Save the Date Read online

  Acclaim for Jenny B. Jones

  “There are few things I love more than curling up with a Jenny B. Jones cast of characters. Save the Date was no exception . . . ”

  —KRISTIN BILLERBECK, AUTHOR OF A BILLION REASONS WHY

  “I loved Save the Date! Jenny B. Jones infuses the story with her trademark wit and sass, and has written a brilliant book with so many layers, I savored each one. This novel stayed with me long after I read it, the highest compliment I can pay an author.”

  —KATHLEEN FULLER, BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF

  A MAN OF HIS WORD AND A HAND TO HOLD

  “At turns sweet and funny, poignant and gripping, Save the Date is a wonderful smile-inducing read lovingly stitched together with a message of God’s tender grace. Readers should definitely save the date for this latest offering from Jenny B. Jones.”

  —TAMARA LEIGH, BEST-SELLING, AWARD-WINNING

  AUTHOR OF SPLITTING HARRIET

  “. . . If you love novels with real characters wrestling with life and faith while they find love, this is the book for you. Add in heaping doses of humor that will leave you laughing even after you’ve closed the book, and you have the perfect recipe for a Jenny B. Jones romance and a book you will think about long after the last page.”

  —CARA C. PUTMAN, AUTHOR OF STARS IN THE NIGHT

  “NOOOOOO . . . the word I wanted to scream when I came to the end of Save the Date . . . Save the Date is lively, funny, kind, romantic, unbelievably charming with a few twists that delighted and surprised me . . . ”

  —TRACEY BATEMAN, AUTHOR OF THIRSTY AND TANDEM

  “For sassy, romantic banter, you need look no further than the novels of Jenny B. Jones . . . If you’re a fan of Jones’s young adult novels, you’re in for a treat—her novels for adults are even better.”

  —TRISH PERRY, AUTHOR OF THE PERFECT BLEND

  “I stayed up late and got up early to read this book. Save the Date has sass, spirit, laughter, tears—buy this book. You. Will. Love. It.”

  —KIMBERLY STUART, AUTHOR OF OPERATION BONNET,

  STRETCH MARKS, AND ACT TWO

  “Jenny B. Jones has done it again! Save the Date is a delightful story featuring quirky characters and just the right mix of humor and romance. You will laugh, cry, and think more deeply about what’s truly important in life. Readers who enjoyed Just Between You and Me will love this new story.”

  —CARRIE TURANSKY, AUTHOR OF SEEKING HIS LOVE

  AND CHRISTMAS MAIL-ORDER BRIDES

  Save the

  Date

  Other Novels by Jenny B. Jones Include

  Just Between You and Me

  Young Adult Series

  THE CHARMED LIFE SERIES

  So Not Happening

  I’m So Sure

  So Over My Head

  THE KATIE PARKER SERIES

  In Between

  On the Loose

  The Big Picture

  Save the

  Date

  JENNY B. JONES

  © 2011 by Jenny B. Jones

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

  transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording,

  scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior

  written permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered

  trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.

  Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business,

  fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail

  [email protected].

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are

  either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and

  any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Scripture references are taken from the HOLMAN CHRISTIAN STANDARD BIBLE. Copyright © 1999,

  2000, 2002, 2003 by Broadman and Holman Publishers, Nashville, Tennessee. All rights reserved.

  Author photograph taken by Belinda Robbins.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Jones, Jenny B., 1975–

  Save the date / Jenny B. Jones.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-1-59554-539-8 (softcover)

  1. Weddings—Planning—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3610.O6257S28 2011

  813'.6—dc22 2010043888

  Printed in the United States of America

  11 12 13 14 15 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Saving Grace, a home for young women who have graduated from the foster care system, is a real place. With real girls.With real hopes and dreams. This book is dedicated to them.

  You are an inspiration. We are all so excited for your futures.I admire the women you are, as well as the women God is shaping you to be. Never give up. Never lose hope. Never stop dreaming. And never stop reminding the world that our work has only begun. You are worthy, you are beautiful, you are . . . amazing.

  . . . But one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and reaching forward to what is ahead, I pursue as my goal the prize promised by God’s heavenly call in Christ Jesus.

  —Philippians 3:13, 14

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Reading Group Guide

  About the Author

  Prologue

  It was a good night to get engaged.

  The moon was full. The candles lit. And Lucy Wiltshire wore a new black sheath that would have made Audrey Hepburn jealous. Her friends might say it was just another old find from the secondhand shop, but Lucy had known from the moment she’d spied the dress that it had been something more. Found on a tightly crammed rack between an avocado peacoat and an acid-washed denim skirt that had seen one too many Bon Jovi concerts, the dress had just called out to her. Buy me. I’m yours. We belong together.

  And buy it she did. Despite the fact that the bodice was a bit tight, and she’d had to let out the waist a few inches, the dress just felt right. It made Lucy want to twirl in her tiny kitchen, letting her kitten heels slide across the gray tile floor.

  It was the pe
rfect outfit to wear when getting proposed to. She had dreamed of this day since she was six and had thrown a wedding for Barbie. And now her own Ken doll was four feet away, acting nervous as a man with marriage on his mind and a solitaire in his pocket.

  Matthew tugged his navy tie loose and sat down at the kitchen table.

  “Good day?” Lucy asked, as she put some garlic bread in the oven, humming to herself.

  “It was fine.” His voice was distracted, his focus on the stack of mail she had yet to move. “What’s this?” He held up a gold embellished card.

  She glanced his way then quickly turned back to the oven. “It’s nothing.”

  “It looks like a class reunion invitation. I thought you didn’t graduate in Charleston.”

  Her childhood in South Carolina was the last thing she wanted to discuss tonight. Or ever. “Obviously it’s a mistake on someone’s part.” Or a cruel joke. The daughter of a maid, Lucy had been on the very bottom of the social food chain at the elite Montrose Academy. Her mother had cleaned the homes of her classmates. And they had never let her forget Lucy wasn’t one of them. But now, back in Charleston, life couldn’t be sweeter.

  “Or maybe they just want to see you.”

  Lucy sat down and stared at the man who had asked her out one year ago today. Matt’s fingers drumming next to his plate seemed out of sync for someone who was normally as calm as a morning sunrise. She adored his predictability. His sandy-blond hair always parted to the left. His white shirts starched and perfectly creased in the sleeves.

  The timer over the stove dinged, and Lucy jumped up to take out the bread. “I hope you’re hungry. I made your favorites.”

  “I noticed.”

  Lucy threw the bread in a basket and placed it on the table. Grabbing his plate, she loaded it with her homemade noodles, her own secret-recipe marinara sauce, and a salad—easy on the dressing, just like he liked. Lucy could envision them sitting together thirty years from now, sharing a meal and talking about their day.

  “Maybe you should go to the reunion.” Matt neatly placed his napkin in his lap. “If you’re wanting to start that girls’ home, you’re going to need to rub elbows with as many people in the community as you can.”

  Lucy watched him as she sat down. “I’ll get the funding from somewhere else. That’s what federal grants are for. And besides, it’s the same night as your award ceremony.”

  Matt was going to be honored for his charity work with senior citizens. An accountant, he had donated countless hours helping the older folks in Charleston with their taxes and providing free financial counseling. Every day she gave God a big “thank you” for sending Matt her way. He was . . . perfect.

  He called his mother twice a week. He led a Bible study and played on a baseball league at church. He read autobiographies and watched CNBC. The guy drove a Volvo. What more could she ask for?

  “Lucy?” Matt’s face was taut as he reached for her hand.

  This was it. She was going to become Mrs. Matthew Campbell. She hoped her lip gloss was still on. And where had she put that camera? If any occasion called for a “extend arm and take your own photo,” this was it.

  He swallowed and folded his fingers over hers. “I have something I need to talk to you about.”

  Her vision blurred with unshed tears. They would have a boy and a girl. They’d name the girl Anna, after her mother. He could name the boy. It didn’t really matter to her. As long as it wasn’t Maynard. After that uncle he liked so much.

  “Lucy, we’ve been together a while now.”

  “A year,” she said. “Our first date was a year today.” Which was all part of his thoughtful plan.

  His grip loosened on her hand. “And it’s been great. I’ve enjoyed our time together. And I think you are one incredible person.”

  Matt reached into his pocket.

  The ring. He was going for the ring. Marquis, pear, princess, round—she didn’t care.

  “Matt”—Lucy sniffed—“I want you to know I’m so happy God put you in my life and—”

  He opened his hand.

  And placed a business card on the table.

  Lucy’s pink lips clamped tight. Those were not wedding bells pealing in her head right now.

  “What is this?” She picked up the card. “Matthew Campbell, senior accountant, Digby, Wallace, and Hinds?”

  His smile was hesitant. “I got a job offer.”

  “Offer?” She ran her finger over his embossed name. “Looks like you’ve already progressed beyond that. When were you going to tell me?”

  “I’ve tried.” He pushed his plate aside. “You’ve just been so busy with the shelter.”

  “Residential home,” she corrected. “Saving Grace is a residential home.”

  “You’ve been so occupied with getting that started, I haven’t been able to get your attention lately.”

  “You’ve got it now.” Something was very wrong here. “What’s going on? I’ve never heard of these people. Are they new?”

  His green eyes focused on the candle in the center of the table. “No. They’re quite old, in fact. Very prestigious.”

  “And where are they old and prestigious?” She couldn’t relocate. He knew that. Not with mere months before Saving Grace opened. Was he going to move—without her?

  “In Dallas.”

  Lucy’s heart fell somewhere to the vicinity of her shoes. “When are you leaving?”

  He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”

  “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  “I think we’ve been moving too fast.”

  Lucy thought of the bridal magazines under her bed. “Then let’s slow it down. I’m okay with that. I think if we just—”

  “I’m leaving next week. This is an opportunity I can’t pass up.” He spoke low and patiently, as if talking to a child. “I think we need to take a break. My relocating is the perfect opportunity to give ourselves some space and see what happens.”

  The white-picket fence was collapsing before her. Was it too much to ask, God? Was it too much to want a family of my own? To finally have that home? For the first time in her life, she had let herself believe she could have it all.

  Her laugh sounded pitiful and strained. “Can you believe”— tears clogged her throat—“that I thought you were going to propose tonight?”

  Matt stood up, walked over to her, and kissed her forehead. “I think I should probably go.”

  She grabbed his hand as he leaned away. “Is it me?” Because wasn’t it always her?

  Reaching out, he pushed a stray curl behind her ear. “No. I know you’re ready for a permanent commitment, but I have to put my career first now—whether I want to or not.”

  The smells in the room—the food, her life decaying—made her want to throw up. “I could wait, you know. We could do the long distance thing.”

  “I’m sorry.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. “For what it’s worth, I believe you’re the right girl—it’s just not the right time.”

  Two minutes later Lucy stood in her living room and watched Matt drive away.

  No ring. No engagement.

  No happily ever after.

  She walked upstairs to her bedroom.

  Sucked it in as she unzipped the Audrey Hepburn dress.

  Peeled it off her body.

  And threw it out the window.

  Chapter One

  Two years later

  Outside the birds sang happy little tunes as they sat on magnolia limbs old enough to have shaded Robert E. Lee. The May sunshine hovered over treetops and steeples, sending the good people of Charleston away from their porches and inside to the cool. Saving Grace occupied an old home downtown, wedged in tight next to an Italian restaurant that put out more than its share of trash and basil-scented air. But inside the house, Lucy sat in her swivel chair and wondered how many times a world could fall apart.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly.” She
stared at the slender woman sitting in her office.

  “Sinclair Hotels will be cutting our funding to Saving Grace by forty percent, effective immediately.”

  Lucy had barely had time to put down her morning cup of coffee before the PR representative from Sinclair was knocking on her office door. Loosening the garage-sale Hermes scarf at her throat, Lucy tried to recall if she had put on deodorant that morning. It was all a blur. Surely she had. But she needed all her wits about her. And her Dry Idea.

  “Miss Pierson,” Lucy said. “I was promised this amount six months ago.”

  “Unfortunately, tough economic times sometimes necessitate cutbacks. I’m sure you understand.” Miss Pierson speared her with a snotty gaze she had probably perfected in junior high. Lucy immediately had a memory of walking through the halls of her high school. The stares. The ridicule. Her classmates doing everything they could to make the poor scholarship girl feel inferior at that ridiculous private school her mother had made her attend. “Marcus Sinclair and the board are grieved over these decisions as well, which is why I was sent to personally deliver the news.”

  “And I am very grateful,” Lucy managed to say. “Sinclair has been very generous. But if I can’t guarantee the funds you initially quoted, I’ll lose my federal and state grants.”

  “As you’ve probably read, Sinclair Hotels has suffered setbacks these last three years under the previous CEO. So Mr. Sinclair has come out of retirement and returned to the helm.”

  Miss Pierson had to be a size double zero. What a shame Sinclair didn’t pay this woman enough to feed herself. Meanwhile Lucy’s own size-ten skirt was about to cut her waist in two.

  “Isn’t there anyone I could talk to?” Lord, help me be calm. Claiming your peace here. I’m breathing in. Breathing out. Breathing—oh, seriously, her arms are no bigger than toothpicks.

  “It was a board decision.”

  “Maybe I could speak with Mr. Sinclair?”

  “That will not be possible. He’s very busy with his duties as CEO, as well as campaigning for his son.”

  Lucy didn’t even let herself think about Alex Sinclair, heir to the family fortune. Not that he needed anyone else’s money. He had made his own as a quarterback for the New York Warriors. And she had gone to school with him, though she had been a year behind him. If he was still treating people the way he’d treated her, it’s a wonder someone hadn’t smothered him with a jersey in his sleep.