Renee hadn’t known when she’d accepted the bridal consultant position at Weddings by Diana that it would be the key to her heart’s desire.
Two weeks ago she’d presented her idea to the two partners, and after jumping every time one of them opened her door, they’d finally given her the go-ahead today.
Standing under the trees, Renee smiled at the sky through the water in her eyes. The universe had finally favored her. She stood for several minutes, taking it all in. She didn’t know how much time passed before she felt the press of heat and humidity on her skin again. Back on solid ground, she returned to the office.
Humming one more wedding as if the phrase were the lyrics to a popular song, she pulled up the file for the Griffin–Shephard nuptials on her computer. Twenty minutes later she was still staring at the screen with no idea what she should do next. Yet her mind was racing with things that needed to be done for her new venture.
A bridal magazine. Her own creation. Directed by her. With her ideas. There was so much to be done. Vendors, suppliers, layouts. Did she still have her contacts in the industry? She had to find a place to work, hire people...she needed to talk to Teddy about using her designs in the first issue. The first issue. She nearly screamed.
And a name.
What was she going to call the magazine? She had control, complete control—the partners had given it to her. Releasing a breath, Renee threaded her fingers through her hair, holding her long mane away from her face as her thoughts whirled. A boulder-weight of decisions crushed her shoulders. Where was she going to start?
And how long would it be before Carter found out?
* * *
Two weeks later, Renee’s blood still sang with joy at the prospect of her new job. She was in New York, and she’d had several appointments to get the magazine’s plan started. Initially, she’d been overwhelmed, but a little wine and a pen and paper calmed her down enough to begin cataloging the list of things she needed to accomplish. But before everything could begin rolling, she would have to be a consultant on one more wedding she’d already agreed to do. Then she could give her full attention to Designed for Brides, the name she’d chosen for the magazine.
The sun had set and she should be out with friends, painting the town as many shades of red as were in the rainbow. But she wasn’t. She was walking toward Rockefeller Center, marveling at the heartbeat of the city and remembering the times she’d rushed past all the wide-eyed tourists and crowded commotion without a second thought.
Reaching Radio City, Renee turned toward Fifth Avenue. A couple holding hands raised them in an arch and she ducked through it. Renee looked after the lovers, remembering when that was her. She should have known better than to come to the city. It was too close to Carter. But New York was huge. Nightlife was abundant. There had to be a million places to go on any given night. The chances of her running into Carter Hampshire were minuscule. She was safe. And maybe he wasn’t even in the city anymore. He’d told her he was leaving when he’d said he no longer wanted to see her. Maybe he was still away. Gone to parts unknown.
Renee had departed, too. She’d pulled up stakes and moved to Princeton, NJ, where, to her good fortune, she’d joined Diana Greer and Teddy Granville at Weddings by Diana.
But today she was back in the city she considered home. Out of the blue, her friend, Blair Massey, had called and invited her for dinner. How Blair had known Renee was in the city was a mystery she’d have to uncover later.
Renee had a wedding in Brooklyn tomorrow night. She was here to make sure all the final details were in order, but she couldn’t help feeling nervous about reconnecting with people from her old life. That was how she thought of it—her old life. Back before she’d gone to Princeton, when she’d spent much of her time with people like Blair and Carter.
Her cell phone played the wedding march. She jerked around toward a shop window and stopped. Just being in New York put her on edge. She relaxed and put the device to her ear.
“Blair, I’m on my way,” she said.
“Glad I caught you. I want to change where we meet,” Blair said.
“Well, I’m good and hungry.”
“I just discovered Villa Maria’s is closed for renovations. Let’s meet at Moonraker’s on 48th Street.”
“Fine,” Renee said. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“See you then.”
She felt a little better after hearing Blair’s voice. The night had promise. Renee wouldn’t think about Carter at all—he was out of her life. He’d been out of it for three years. There was no reason to think that on a Friday night, in a city this size, she’d run into the one man she never wanted to see again. He was probably in the Hamptons or out having fun with someone else.
Still, she couldn’t help thinking about him. They’d worked together, then begun dating. She’d been well on her way to falling in love when—when he’d left her. It had been a clean break, nothing drawn out or lingering. No arguments, accusations or tears, yet three years later Renee felt as bereft as she had the day he’d walked out of her life.
She’d cycled through many possible reasons for their breakup: he wanted to marry someone else, his family disapproved of her, there was another woman, maybe he’d discovered he had a child. The truth was, she just didn’t know. And without that closure, her wounded heart had no chance of healing.
* * *
Carter Hampshire sat forward in his chair and snapped the trade magazine as if he could shake the words off the page. Dropping it on the desk, he steepled his fingers as he looked down over the story. It was a small notice, but the name jumped off the page. He hadn’t heard about her in three years. Carter looked down again. Of all the print on that page, his eyes went straight to her name.
Renee Hart, former director of the wedding magazine division at Hampshire Publications, is planning to start her own magazine for brides. The title for the new venture has not been determined at this writing, but Ms. Hart is actively making the rounds.
“Damn,” Carter cursed. It couldn’t be true. But in his heart, he knew it was something she was fully capable of doing. It wasn’t inevitable, but it was logical for Renee. If she hadn’t gone to work for one of his competitors, she’d be striking out on her own.
Carter walked to the windows on the 38th floor of the building that bore his family name. The night lights of New York emulated the postcards tourists bought every year.
“Renee Hart.” He spoke her name aloud, checking the feel of it on his lips, the sound of it in the empty air. After three years, she still haunted him. A benevolent ghost, whose face and figure was as corporeal as smoke. But in his mind she was almost touchable.
And now she was returning to New York. It made sense that she would return to the city—New York was a publishing powerhouse.
Carter returned to his desk and picked up the office phone. He dialed a number and waited. Blair Massey answered on the first ring.
“Good, you’re still there,” he said without saying hello. It was seven o’clock, but Blair often worked late. He and Blair had known each other for years. She was a wizard at what she did, and she had mentored Renee. If anyone knew the whole story, it would be Blair.
“I was just on my way out.”
“Meet me in the lobby.” It was a suggestion, and Carter tried to keep the command tone out of his voice. He hung up.
Blair was waiting when he stepped out of the small paneled room. The fifty-year-old woman looked serious, although she was as impeccably dressed as any model on the fashion pages.
“Carter, I was trying to tell you I already have dinner plans,” Blair said. She checked her watch. “And I’m already late.”
He took her arm and moved her out of the parade of people. “Where