Page 7 of The Runaway Bride's Vow

At one point, he stopped and set down his things in order to pull out his phone. He snapped some reference photos. The front doors were weathered. He imagined them sanded and repainted. Perhaps a bright, cheery red to draw the eye and say: come inside. He made a note to discuss the door’s new color with Clara.

He glanced back at the parking lot. There was still no sign of the person he was supposed to meet. They were supposed to unlock the chapel and be Clara’s eyes while she was out of town.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Clara’s number. The line rang once before switching to voicemail. He disconnected the call.

Perhaps his contact had arrived before him. After all, the episode at the coffee shop had delayed him a bit. Maybe they’d unlocked the door for him and were planning to return later. He climbed the few steps to the doors. He reached for the brass handle.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

The woman’s voice came from behind him. His hand lowered to his side as he turned around. An older woman with short curly white hair stood in the parking lot. With the aid of a cane, she shuffled her way toward him. A deep frown settled on her features.

He wondered where she’d come from. There was no other vehicle in the parking lot. Was it possible she’d walked to the chapel? That seemed to be the only reasonable explanation. And yet that didn’t seem right because her mobility appeared to be hampered.

She lifted her arm with a cell phone in it. “You’re trespassing. I’m calling the police.”

He had no idea who this woman was, but she was feisty. “I’m the contractor hired to work on the chapel.”

The woman frowned at him. She cupped a hand by her ear. “I can’t hear you.”

He retraced his steps until he stood in front of the woman. He raised his voice. “I’m the contractor.”

She frowned at him. “Where’s Clara?”

“I believe she’s out of town, but she arranged for someone to meet me here.”

Just then there was a strong gust of wind. It blew hard off the ocean. Dirt was swept up in the air causing him to squint.

“Oh no! My scarf.” A worried tone filled the woman’s voice as she reached out for it. Her fingers clasped nothing but air.

He watched as a scarf in the shades of pink, purple and aqua get swept away with the wind. A quick glance at the anguish on the woman’s face let him know what must be done. He took off after it. The wind whipped the material around like it was a kite. It rose high before dipping low. It kept getting away from him but he refused to give up.

When he was halfway across the large parking lot, the wind let up. The colorful material fluttered to the ground. He moved quickly, hoping to snatch it up before the wind picked up again.

When his fingers clutched the soft scarf, a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. Got it.

He retraced his steps and came to a stop in front of the woman. He held the scarf out to her. “Here you go.”

Tears shimmered in the woman’s eyes. “Thank you so much. You don’t know how much this scarf means to me.”

“I’m glad I was here to help.”

She clutched the scarf to her chest. “This was the last gift my husband gave me before I lost him. He knew how much I loved bright colorful scarves.” Her warm gaze met his. “My name’s Mabel. Mabel Grace.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Logan Montgomery.”

She smiled at him. “Will you take good care of it? It’s been in my family for generations.”

His gaze moved from her to the chapel and back again. “Maybe you could tell me about its history.”

“I would love to.” Her eyes lit up. “I have some photos too.”

He loved learning about the older structures he worked on. It helped him understand the personality of the building.

Mabel told him that she would gather the information and let him know when she had it together. He noticed how animated she became as they continued to talk. He got the impression she was a bit lonely. So when she offered him some coffee, he promised to do that at a future date—sometime when he wasn’t in a rush.

When she walked away, he moved toward the chapel. He grasped the brass handle, and to his surprise, the latch gave way. He pushed the door wide open and took a step inside. Just one step. It was all he needed.

The sun was shining through the many windows surrounding the front of the small chapel. The morning rays reflected off the many surfaces, giving the interior a warm glow. If he were the romantic sort, it would take his breath away, but he wasn’t that type. He was more matter of fact these days.

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