Page 5 of The Brit and the Bridesmaid
“Because I have a fitting today!” Caroline’s frantic tone was clear even with the noise of the city echoing through the phone.
Abby could think of a hundred things she’d rather be doing than spending another Saturday at Sainsbury House. “Why not Mom?”
“She’s coming to the fitting with me. Come on, Abby. You’re maid of honor— you’re supposed to help with this stuff.”
There should be a law against sisters being maids of honor.
“You’re right.” What else could she say? “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.”
“Yes, I am.” She hit the end button and tucked her phone in her pocket. “Yes, I am.”
She stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to Sainsbury House’s wraparound porch. Wedding planning, especially in a place as high-and-mighty as Sainsbury House, wasn’t her kind of thing. She’d dragged herself away from her garden that morning to run this errand. She probably still had dirt under her fingernails.
Dirty fingernails and fancy houses don’t go together.She knew that well. Dirk the Jerk—her family had given him that name even before Abby realized the kind of guy he was—had lectured her on that so many times.
“At least pretend like you belong here.” That had been one of his favorite lines.
Abby stepped inside the entryway. The place was as overwhelmingly fancy as it had been a week earlier. It made a person feel judged, like the paintings and crown molding and polished tables were there solely to remind her that she fit better in a tiny apartment in a barely middle-class neighborhood than in a mansion.
“May I help you?” A woman Abby thought she’d seen in passing the last Saturday greeted her near the winding staircase. As near as she’d been able to discover, Matthew was the only person at Sainsbury House who spoke with an accent.
“I am looking for Matthew Carlton.” She was proud of herself for not calling him Brit Boy or Mr. Elegant or any of the other names she’d been using in her mind the past week.
“He is in his office.” The woman motioned toward the same room they’d been shown to before.
“If I’m interrupting, I can wait.” She wanted to wait. For reasons she refused to think about, she was nervous. Matthew Carlton had shown up a few too many times in her wandering thoughts recently.
The woman peeked past the office door then looked back at Abby. “No one is in the office but Matthew. You are quite welcome to go on inside.”
She threw back her shoulders. No snooty Englishman was going to intimidate her. She might not fit in with her worn-out jeans and casual top. The dirt under her fingernails and her complete lack of jewelry probably pegged her as someone not cut out to be a client at Sainsbury House. But she didn’t care. Not at all.
Abby stepped into the office. Matthew looked up from his laptop.
He smiled at her. That smile was part of the reason he’d shown up in her thoughts so often. She couldn’t be blamed for thinking about it, or for her heart fluttering around at seeing it again.
“Ms. Grover.” He stood and came around his desk, indicating the leather armchair nearest his desk. Once she sat, he moved back to the chair he’d occupied before. “What brings you to Sainsbury House?”
“My sister.” Might as well get right to the point.
His mouth pulled in a thought-filled line. “She did not mention that you would be stopping in.”
“Has Caroline been in touch with you?”
That smile returned again. “She emailed me six times yesterday.”
“That’s Caroline.”
“She seems very... particular.” His green eyes sparkled with amusement.
Abby did her fair share of laughing at her sister, but she didn’t like anyone else to. “It’s her wedding day,” Abby said in Caroline’s defense. “She’s entitled to be picky about a few things.”
“Of course.” He gave a short nod. He threaded his fingers through one another. “What may I do for you?”
“What may I do for you?” No one talks like that.If he kept it up, she wouldn’t be able to understand him at all. Sainsbury House, apparently, was the place to go if a person wanted to feel poor and stupid.
“Caroline sent me to ask about a few things.”
