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    The Wedding that Wasn't
    The Wedding that Wasn't
    The Wedding that Wasn't
    Ebook120 pages1 hour

    The Wedding that Wasn't

    By Lori Wilde

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    About this ebook

    A runaway bride sets true love in motion—from the New York Times bestselling author whose “novels are always a delight!” (Jill Shalvis, author of Almost Just Friends)
     
    On the morning Felicity Patterson was born, a bluebird crashed into the bedroom window pane and died. The superstitious midwife announced that the baby would never know true happiness.
     
    Silly stuff, of course, and Felicity doesn’t want to believe the prophesy has anything to do with the string of heartaches she’s experienced. Or the fact that bluebirds haven’t been seen in Serendipity, Texas, for decades. 
     
    In any case, things are looking up. Since the town’s leading family chose her B&B to host their daughter’s society wedding, The Bluebird Inn has become the hottest venue around. Until the bride says, “I don’t!” and blows out of town on a hijacked Ducati. Rumors of a jinx have guests canceling their reservations in droves—all except Tom Loving. The retired Army officer and amateur ornithologist hopes to lure the bluebirds back to Serendipity. What does Felicity have to lose? Only her heart, it seems. But maybe it’s time for her luck to change—and love to take wing . . .

    Originally published in A Wedding on Bluebird Way

    Praise for Lori Wilde

    “Lori Wilde writes characters who always speak to my heart.”—RaeAnne Thayne, New York Times bestselling author

    “Every now and then a book comes along that touches every emotion, from heart rending tears to belly laughs. The Moonglow Sisters is a one of those rare books. From the first line to the last sigh, it was amazing.”—Carolyn Brown, New York Times bestselling author
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherZebra Books
    Release dateFeb 26, 2019
    ISBN9781420150605
    The Wedding that Wasn't
    Author

    Lori Wilde

    Lori Wilde is the New York Times, USA Today and Publishers’ Weekly bestselling author of 97 works of romantic fiction. She’s a three-time Romance Writers’ of America RITA finalist and has four times been nominated for Romantic Times Readers’ Choice Award. She has won numerous other awards as well. Her books have been translated into 26 languages, with more than seven million copies of her books sold worldwide. Her breakout novel, The First Love Cookie Club, was made into a Hallmark movie titled A Kismet Christmas. Lori is a registered nurse with a BSN from Texas Christian University and a MLA from the same university. She holds a certificate in forensics and is also a certified yoga instructor. A sixth-generation Texan, Lori lives with her husband, Bill, in the Cutting Horse Capital of the World.

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      Book preview

      The Wedding that Wasn't - Lori Wilde

      Wilde

      Prologue

      The Lore

      At the moment of the baby girl’s birth, a bluebird, attracted by the shiny prism hanging in the bedroom window, hit the glass pane and broke its beautiful azure neck. The superstitious midwife clucked her tongue at the dark omen, and told the laboring mother that, alas, her baby would never know true happiness.

      To counter the nay-saying nurse’s dire prediction, the determined mother purposefully named her child Felicity, meaning happiness, refused to tell her daughter about the midwife’s bleak forecast, and did everything in her power to make sure Felicity grew up feeling safe, healthy, and loved.

      The child’s mother encouraged her gifted girl to sing with a voice as clear and unwavering as a bluebird’s buoyant warble, and they lived blissfully together in a small cottage on the outskirts of Serendipity, Texas—planting gardens, nurturing animals, humming tunes of thanksgiving for their bountiful blessings.

      That was, until the mother died in a freak farming accident on her daughter’s eighteenth birthday.

      And, from that moment on, Felicity’s life went right to hell in a wicker handbasket.

      Chapter One

      At forty, Felicity Patterson knew how to take a licking and keep on ticking. Life had kicked her in the gut, the teeth, the kneecaps . . . oh, just about anywhere it was possible to get kicked and survive . . . and, against all odds, she’d managed to stay perky, plucky, and optimistic.

      Her resilient ability to rebound, no matter what, was why most everyone in Serendipity loved her. In fact, she was so bouncy, people said her middle name should have been Super Ball.

      Until the day Aunt Molly spilled the beans.

      When it happened, Felicity and her aunt were standing amidst the metal folding chairs sectioned into rows and aisles underneath the newly installed pergola in the middle of the Bluebird Inn’s backyard garden. On the morning Felicity’s long-held dream of turning her struggling bed-and-breakfast into a wedding venue was about to come true.

      It was late March, and spring flowers bloomed in wild profusion—yellow daffodils, grape hyacinth, pink petunias. The air smelled of honey, hope, and happiness. It was seven-thirty in the morning, barely light, but Felicity had already been up for three hours, prepping for the eleven a.m. society wedding. Her first at the Bluebird. The breeze was cool at sixty-four degrees, and the forecast promised clear skies and a high of seventy-five. Perfect weather for an outdoor wedding.

      The only things missing from the garden were the bluebirds that had once been so plentiful on the grounds. Several years ago urban sprawl, and the common house sparrows that came with it, had driven the migrating birds from their natural nesting grounds.

      A dozen contract workers buzzed around, setting up the altar, arranging flowers, putting the finishing touches on the reception tables in the ivy-draped pavilion.

      It had taken Felicity months to convince the wealthiest family in town to hold their only daughter’s wedding at the Bluebird Inn. But now that she’d persuaded the Lovings (yes, they were descendants of the famed cattle baron Oliver Loving) that she was up for the task, the Bluebird was booked solid with weddings every weekend all the way through September.

      What a blessing!

      With more bookings and deposits coming in every day, for the first time since she and her husband, Steve, had opened the Bluebird Inn, it was running in the black. Steve would have been so proud.

      At the thought of her late husband, Felicity’s eyes misted. Steve had been gone two years, and, for the most part, she’d come to terms with losing him far too young, but there were times like this when grief still ambushed her.

      She bit down on the inside of her cheek to stay the tears.

      By all rights, Steve should have been here with her. The dream of running a B&B had initially been his. He was the extrovert who thrived on being around people. And while Felicity enjoyed people too, she was an empathetic introvert who needed to go off by herself from time to time in order to recharge her batteries. But she did love running the grand old Victorian and creating a hospitable environment for her guests.

      Sweetheart, Aunt Molly said, peering at her from behind gray, round-framed Oakleys that softened the rectangular shape of her face. Please, don’t expect too much to come of this wedding.

      What? Felicity glanced up from where she was tweaking a large bow anchoring the aqua slipcover to a cushioned folding chair.

      I don’t mean to be a downer. Her aunt’s face was kind. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.

      Why would I get hurt? Felicity cocked her head, confused. Things have never been better. My business is booming. I’ve got more bookings than I can handle. Friends and family I love. I’m healthy as a horse. Life is pretty darn good.

      Well, except there was no man in her world, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to date anyway. Maybe she never would be, and Felicity was okay with that. She’d had her one great love. She wasn’t greedy.

      Which is precisely why I’m worried. A frown knitted Aunt Molly’s brow, and one side of her mouth kicked up in uncertainty. "Every time things are going good for you, bam! That old midwife’s curse comes true."

      What midwife? What curse?

      Oh. Aunt Molly exhaled sharply, shook her head, and the silver feather earrings nestled in her lobes trembled with movement. Never mind.

      Huh? Felicity straightened, squinted against the sun, scratched her head. What are you talking about?

      It’s nothing. Aunt Molly pushed a hand through her coifed pageboy. Do you need me to check on the caterers?

      The wedding planner takes care of that. Felicity touched her aunt’s elbow. What did you mean by the midwife’s curse?

      Aunt Molly shifted uncomfortably. I’m being a silly old woman. Don’t pay me any mind.

      You’re only sixty. Far from old. What curse?

      It’s not a curse. Aunt Molly fidgeted, tugging at the collar of her blouse. Not really. More like a prophecy.

      Something niggled at the back of Felicity’s mind. A memory of a disturbing encounter between her mother and an older woman who’d shown up at Felicity’s high school graduation with a gift.

      You’ll not poison the well, crone, Mom had hissed at the woman. Her mother was never rude, and her behavior had alarmed Felicity. Your jinx didn’t work. She’s happy as a bluebird. Stay away from my daughter.

      Then Mom had tossed the gift in the trash.

      Who was that? Felicity had asked, looking longingly over her shoulder at the brightly wrapped package in the garbage can.

      A superstitious old fool, Mom had said. Never mind her. Let’s go celebrate your diploma.

      Three weeks later her mother had been killed when the tractor she was riding on turned over in the pasture.

      A light breeze stirred the hairs on Felicity’s arms, and she shivered and met her aunt’s Plymouth-blue eyes, a shade lighter than her own. Just tell me.

      Your mother made me promise never to tell you. It was a slip of the tongue. It means nothing.

      If it doesn’t mean anything, then why not tell me? All this mystery is making me itchy.

      "Well, you are forty, Aunt Molly said. Halfway through a tough life. I don’t see any reason to keep it a secret any longer."

      Felicity folded her arms over her chest, suddenly chilled to the bone. She wanted to go get a thicker sweater, but her aunt had perched on the edge of one of the folding chairs, blocking her way. She took a seat beside her aunt and waited.

      Aunt Molly rubbed her thumb across her chin and related the tale about the superstitious midwife and the circumstances of Felicity’s birth. Your mother didn’t tell you because she didn’t want you to believe you were jinxed and doomed to be unhappy. She didn’t believe in the curse. Not for a second.

      Felicity absorbed the information, felt it hit her like the bumping updraft of air turbulence. Dozens of images tumbled through her head, starting from the day she’d heard her mother was dead.

      Mom’s funeral. Discovering the dark secret that her biological father was serving a life sentence for murder. The visit to the prison, finding out her

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