Chapter 24

24

I t was the day before her wedding, and Emerson had decided to take the bull by the horns.

Time to have it out with Shy Blackwood today.

She smiled at the bride sitting across from her, thanking her for coming in to discuss the designs for the wedding and groom's cakes. They set a time next week for her to return with her groom in order to sample the selections and make their choices.

This was the only appointment Emerson had today. She had nothing to do for the wedding since Harper and all her friends had everything under control. Braden and Finley had taken over preparing the meal for the guests. Dax had the music ready, asking Ry and her what some of their favorite songs were, saying to leave the rest to him. Ivy, freshly home from her triumphant art exhibit in New York, was seeing to the flowers. Ana and Finley had taken her dress shopping, and Emerson had purchased a tea-length cream-colored dress that she hoped she would be able to wear in the future.

She left the winery and drove back into Lost Creek, heading to where Ry's food truck was located today. A longer than usual line surprised her, and she thought maybe it was because customers knew he wouldn't be open tomorrow for lunch since it was his wedding day. Though the ceremony wasn't starting until five o'clock, Emerson had told Ry he better not be anywhere near smoked meats for the entire day because she wanted her groom smelling like anything but barbeque.

They would take a delayed honeymoon next week to the Texas coast, where the Gulf of Mexico's water was still warm and the beaches would be fairly empty since school was already in session. It would be a long weekend, Thursday through Sunday, since Ry had no catering obligations on his calendar. Rhiannon had agreed to bake the cakes for Emerson's weddings that weekend.

For now, Operation Heal the Rift was about to commence.

Joining the line, she chatted with Cyndi Johnson, who was a realtor in town, and Jean Bradley, who owned a local B&B where Holden had stayed when he came to Lost Creek.

Emerson finally reached the front of the line, receiving a warm smile from her handsome fiancé.

"And what might I get you, beautiful?" Ry asked. "I should've told you that you can always cut to the front of the line."

"Maybe once I'm Mrs. Ry Blackwood, I'll flex a little muscle and do just that. In the meantime, I thought I would take lunch to The Bake House staff."

He wouldn't be suspicious because she'd done this before. Emerson gave her order to Ry.

"Coming right up."

Quickly, he put the order together, grinning at her. "No charge for the bride-to-be."

"I'll see you later then," she said breezily, flashing him a smile.

Returning to her car, Emerson drove straight to Blackwood BBQ. Inside, she went to Jose, who manned the cashier stand.

"I need to speak with Shy. Where is he?"

"In his office, Miss Emerson," the young man told her, eyeing her with curiosity.

"Thank you," she said, glad she would be able to catch Ry's father away from others.

She went down the hall, turning right to where the owner's office was located. The door was open, and she knocked on it.

"We need to talk," she said.

Shy looked up, pulling off his readers, letting them dangle in his fingers.

"I have no quarrel with you, Emerson. I don't see how we have anything to talk about, though."

Boldly, she stepped into his office and closed the door. "We most certainly have something to discuss, Shy Blackwood. Mainly about what a jerk you're being."

The older man's eyebrows shot up. He glared at her, all previous signs of friendliness gone.

Before he could speak, she marched to the desk and said, "No, you don't get to say anything. I'm the one here doing the talking— and you're going to listen."

She tempered her tone. "Ry is your only child, Shy. He's worshipped the ground you trod upon ever since he could walk. He misses you terribly."

His jaw set stubbornly. "That boy knows where I am. If he wants to come and apologize, he can do so."

"You're a stubborn old goat, Shy," Emerson chastised. "You need to get past it. You may agree to disagree when it comes to barbeque, but you have to make amends and restore your relationship. Do you really think kicking your son out of your family, simply because he added a new dimension to Blackwood BBQ, was the smart thing to do? This isn't about who's right or wrong." She paused. "This is about family."

"The old ways are the best ways," Shy said doggedly. "Ry's tried to change that."

"Ry is still smoking traditional barbeque," Emerson pointed out. "He's also bringing a new aspect to it. One you are too pigheaded to even sample."

Going out on a limb now, because she didn't know if it were true or not, she asked, "How many people have come into Blackwood BBQ and wanted one of Ry's new creations?"

Shy's face grew red. "Some," he admitted grudgingly.

Emerson nodded knowingly. "I'll bet it's been more than some. Ry learned so much during his army days as a cook in South Korea. He visited several countries, observing their traditions and cuisine. He thoughtfully incorporated those into Texas barbeque. He was never trying to throw out your menu, Shy. That's Blackwood history, and Ry has a great respect for it. Your family's barbeque is legendary in the Hill Country. What Ry was trying to do, though, was bring a new layer to what already existed.

She took a deep breath and continued. "There are always going to be people who want their barbeque the tried-and-true way. But in our culture today, especially here in Texas, we're seeing a blending of different cuisines. We have more immigrants in our country than ever before. People want to try new, different things. You've cut off your nose to spite your face. You've lost contact with a beloved son over a very small issue."

When he didn't respond, she added, "It's time to reconnect with your son, Shy. Restore your relationship. Don't think about who's right or wrong— because that's not important. And you need to do this now, before you drift even further apart. Not coming to our wedding tomorrow is simply ridiculous. I'm telling you, hardheadedness is not a reason to stay away. I'm here to ask you to be the man Ry believes you to be, Shy. Offer one another an olive branch. "

Emerson held up the sack she had brought. "I've come bearing gifts," she announced. "I want you to taste Ry's food and see what he's doing."

When he looked startled, she wasn't above begging. "Please. As a favor to me. After all, I'm an orphan. My dad died in prison on a murder charge. My mom gave up her parental rights and placed me in foster care. She died from a drug overdose. I have no family, Shy. I was hoping by marrying Ry, I would finally belong to one."

She saw Shy considering her request and held her breath.

"All right."

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

She took out the plates Ry had slipped into the bag for her and then placed a brisket sandwich and a container of sauce on it.

"Try this first," she said.

He opened the foil wrapping and lifted the bun, studying the meat inside the sandwich before pouring sauce over it. He replaced the bun and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. After swallowing, he dipped his finger into the container, tasting the barbeque sauce again.

"The brisket is exactly how I taught him to make it," he conceded. "The sauce is new, though."

"He tinkered with the family recipe," she admitted. "Ry didn't want you to accuse him of stealing it."

Next, she had Shy try the pulled pork. Again, he nodded, proclaiming it to be top-notch quality.

"I have two of the Asian-influenced items I want you to try now. With an open mind," she emphasized.

Emerson watched his face carefully as he sampled both the sandwich and kebab. Shy wiped his mouth with a napkin, and their gazes met.

"Pretty damn good."

"It's terrific," she agreed. "So many of the new dishes Ry has created have become a hit. As I said, Shy, he hasn't abandoned his roots. He still knows how to smoke a flavorful meat. He's simply adding to his repertoire. I'm doing the same with my bakery. The Bake House will always offer the items people adore, those tried-and-true sweets, but as I learn new techniques and grow as a baker, I'll incorporate different pies and cookies or ways to decorate my cakes. The brides I bake cakes for will always have the chance to go with a very traditional wedding cake. But as I investigate new methods and stretch creatively, I'm happy to offer new and exciting choices for those who are a little more adventurous or want something a bit more specialized."

She gazed at him steadily. "Ry doesn't want to compete with you. He loves you. He came home, wanting to be a part of Blackwood BBQ. To bring his experiences from his military days and seeing the world to this little part of the Texas Hill Country. You rejected him outright, without tasting a bite of what he'd smoked. Be the man Ry believes you are, Shy. Heal the breach between the two of you."

Fat tears began to run down his face, and Shy pushed to his feet, coming to Emerson and wrapping her in a tight bear hug.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I've been a total moron about this disagreement."

She looked him in the eye. "Then you'll come to the wedding?" she asked hopefully.

"Hell, honey. I might even dance with my wife."

They laughed and hugged again, relief pouring through her.

Then an idea hit her. "Shy? Could I ask a favor of you?"

"You bet. What can I do for you, Emerson?"

"It would mean a lot to me— and Ry —if you agreed to walk me down the aisle."

Ry had gotten dressed for the wedding at his apartment, the one he would now be giving up. He was moving in with Emerson at her rental house. He hoped one day they would be able to buy a house of their own. For now, though, he needed to get on his feet financially before they could consider that.

Business was good. The lunch trade proved steady, and he'd built a loyal clientele, repeat customers coming more than once a week. Because of that, he kept the brisket and pulled pork sandwiches as a constant, while changing the fusion dishes every week. It kept the menu fresh for those willing to try new foods, but it also satisfied the regulars who showed up and expected good old Texas barbeque. He'd even added his grandmother's banana pudding to the catering truck's offerings. It was the only dessert offered, very simple to make, and he served it in a small cup with a plastic spoon. Customers couldn't seem to get enough of it.

He was also catering his fair share of weddings at Lost Creek Vineyards. While he hated that it was costing Blackwood BBQ business, Harper had told Ry it couldn't be helped. Brides were willing to step outside the box and excited to have their guests try a new spin on a traditional Texas favorite. Still, he knew his dad must be hurt.

Dax entered the groom's room, smiling at him. "Any nerves, Ry?"

"None," he confirmed. "Marrying Emerson is exactly what I am meant to do."

"I put together the songs you requested and added some fun dance numbers. We can put the mix on after we eat. That way, I can dance the night away with my wife."

Ivy was now starting to show, and Ry couldn't help but think what great parents she and Dax would be.

Braden joined them. "Finley and I have the food under control," he said. "Everything's done and in warming trays. I hope you'll like what we made."

Ry laughed. "The fact that I'm not having to cater my own wedding reception is a true gift, Braden. I can't thank you and Finley enough for handling that for us."

"We're glad to do so. Finley even has Holden acting as our sous chef."

"Maybe if he keeps learning more about how to cook, we should work him into the Wednesday night rotation," Dax suggested. "He keeps telling me he's nailed omelets. If he can conquer pancakes or biscuits, we could do a breakfast supper."

Harper's belly— and then Harper —appeared in the doorway. "It's almost time," she told them. "Ry, you need to come to the front."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, saluting and then following her to the large, open space.

He and Dax, who was serving as his best man, moved toward the glass wall where Judge Grady, who was tonight's officiant stood. Ry greeted the judge and then gazed out over the vineyards, thinking about what a beautiful venue this was for a wedding. Usually, he was stuck in the kitchen, getting plates of food ready to come out, and he'd never really had an opportunity to appreciate the beauty of the setting.

Glancing across the small crowd gathered, he felt the lump forming in his throat. In a short time, he had made life-long friends in Lost Creek, a place he knew he would live for the remainder of his life. He couldn't ask for a better group of friends, which had become family to him.

Instrumental music began playing, and he watched as Holden escorted Ry's mom down the aisle, seating her on the front row. Alone. His chest grew tight, wishing his dad had come today. He began second-guessing himself, thinking he should've reached out. Gone to see his father. If he had, though, it probably would have resulted in a bitter fight, and the gulf between them would have grown even wider. He didn't need that kind of toxicity in his life.

Ry cleared his thoughts, trying to calm himself, as his watched Finley breeze down the aisle. As Emerson's best friend, Finley was acting as maid of honor.

She smiled at him and then winked saucily as she took her spot.

Then the music changed. He eagerly awaited his first glimpse of his bride. She appeared —and Ry's heart stopped.

She came down the aisle on Shy Blackwood's arm.

His throat grew thick with emotion. Ry couldn't look at his dad. Instead, his gaze connected with Emerson, who beamed at him. Then he worked up his courage and glanced his father's way, seeing tears glimmering in Shy's eyes, matching his own.

They reached the front, and Judge Grady asked, "Who gives this woman in marriage?"

Solemnly, his dad said, "Emerson doesn't need to be given to anyone. She's a determined woman who stands on her own two feet. I'm happy, though, to welcome her into the Blackwood family— and hand her off to my son."

Shy brushed a kissed against Emerson's cheek.

Ry moved to his dad, enveloping him, whispering into his ear. "Thank you. I love you, Dad."

His father smiled through his tears. "I love you, son. I'm so proud of you. I'm sorry I've been a stubborn old goat." He glanced to Emerson. "At least that's what the bride called me."

He started laughing. "She did?"

"Emerson is a very smart woman, Ry. You've definitely chosen the right person to marry. Now, go do it."

He hugged his dad again before turning to his bride.

Taking her hands in his, he said, "Thank you. You've done the impossible."

"Shy needed to be here. For you—and for him."

They turned back to Judge Grady, who grinned at them and asked, "Are we ready to have a wedding now?"

"Yes, sir," Ry said.

The weight which had been pressing upon him floated away. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing his parents sitting together. His mom and dad held hands. They looked at him, their eyes shining with love.

He looked back at the judge, who began with, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony."

As Ry listed to the words which would bind him to Emerson forever, he knew their love would stand the test of time.

Twenty minutes later, they swept down the aisle together, now united as man and wife, their guests cheering for them. The Italian feast Braden and Finley had prepared was delicious. Rhiannon's cakes were spot on. Everyone danced for several hours.

And happiness shone on his bride's face.

When an Ed Sheeran ballad came on, Ry pulled Emerson close, whispering in her ear, "Are you ready to leave after this song?"

She smiled. "If you're telling me you're itching to start the wedding night, I'll tell you I was ready to leave an hour ago."

"Then let's go." He grabbed her hand and raised it. "Bye, everyone! Thanks for everything! Goodnight!"

Before anyone could stop them, Ry had pushed open the doors, tugging his new wife along with him. They laughed the entire way to his truck. When they reached it, he gave her a slow, deep kiss.

"I love you, Mrs. Blackwood," he said huskily.

"I love you ten times more, Mr. Blackwood," she teased, pulling him down for another kiss.

They finally got into the truck and drove the short way home. Ry carried his bride over the threshold.

"I can't believe we're finally married," Emerson said.

A cell chimed. He saw her phone sitting on the counter and said, "Don't look at it."

She wriggled from his arms. "It might be important."

He caught her wrist, bringing her back to him, kissing her. The minute he broke the kiss, she skittered away, claiming her phone. Ry watched her face as she read the text, not able to discern the emotions which flitted across her face.

Bringing the phone to him, Emerson handed it over. "Read this."

Ry frowned, glancing at the screen.

It's Tucker Young. I got your message. I'm ready to talk to Ry. Have him call me at this number. 555-234-5858

Stunned, he met her gaze.

"I wasn't sure if Tucker would get my message, much less respond," Emerson said. "I didn't want to raise your hopes in case he didn't reply."

"You are a miracle worker, Emerson Blackwood," Ry proclaimed. He hesitated. "Do you think we can call him now?"

"I'm glad you want to," she responded. "Let's FaceTime him."

They settled on the sofa, and he dialed the number, his hand shaking. Suddenly, Tucker's face was on the screen.

"Hey, Ry," his cousin said.

Ry swallowed, full of emotion, and managed to respond. "Hey, Tuck. I just got married tonight. I want you to meet my wife. This is Emerson."