The Love Left Behind: Hartford Estates

The Love Left Behind

Her only worry was the out-of-control mother-of-the-bride, until the past slammed head first into the present.

Marlee Thomas looks at life head-on. No looking back, no second chances on what could have been. Except to thank her great aunt one more time for giving her love, a home, a legacy, and the means to mold an event planning business she loves.

Brian Mason is on his own. Left behind is his family’s law firm legacy and a disastrous marriage born out of family loyalty. He’s starting fresh, away from the big city where his surname is infamous.

Coincidence finds Marlee and Brian face to face for the first time in twenty-seven years. She the event planner, he the divorced father of the bride.

Mixed signals, a secret baby, instant passion ignited years ago, and second chances divide the years. Can either forgive past mistakes to learn to love again?

Dedication

To Michelle Libby, whose writing prompts one dreary March day, when the world seemed to be imploding, and my brain was in lock-down, sparked this story. For four weeks, I madly wrote, many times in the middle of the night when the news disturbed my sleep. So, raising a glass to Michelle for jumpstarting my muse during a pandemic. Thanks! Michelle for not only this idea, but for being my travel buddy to conferences, and for all your encouragement over the years.

And to the great women in my life from the generation before me, my surrogate mothers, Jean Faught (whose mash potato recipe is made in this story), and my Aunt Virginia Shannon Malany-Meloney, who was a trailblazer as a WASP (Women Airforce Service Pilots) ferrying war planes to the troops during WWII (whose name I used for the heroine’s great-aunt.) I miss you both. Both names are immortalized in this book.

Acknowledgments

Special thanks for my editor, Janet Corcoran, for her usual diligence in pointing out my whacky timeline. I really did try hard to get it right this time, and she still found discrepancies. And for picking up my overused words, which change from manuscript to manuscript. There are no words for my gratitude.

Also, a big shout-out to my cover artist, Karen Ronan, who puts up with my constant tweaks. I appreciate your patience and talent.

And to my formatter, Nina Peirce, who made this book beautiful inside, and still, after helping me publish seven books, answers all my questions with grace and wisdom.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to coastal Rhode Island, where the winds gust, the waves roil, and the landscape and estates that dot part of the state are legendary.

As you read in the dedication, I thank my critique partner and dear friend for inspiring the idea for this story. As writers, we like to challenge each other, especially when we are all isolated at home. So, when Michelle sent out a list of writing prompts, phrases to jumpstart the muse of those in our writing group, two of the suggestions caught my attention and sparked the premise for this book.

The two prompts were: (1) one meets another at a wedding AND (2) one learns a shocking secret about the other.

On my daily walk, those two prompts rolled around in my mind, and I pictured not only the setting, but who the characters were, and what secret one held close. I immediately sat down and wrote the first chapter, just to get me started with the idea. My intention was to put this book in my write-one-of-these-days file. I woke in the middle of the night and wrote the second chapter, and the third the following day. I promised myself I’d make more notes and again file the story away, since I was already working on another book. But I couldn’t stop writing, the ideas of what was to come, the scenes, and the characters ran through my mind night and day. It wasn’t until I finished the fifth chapter, that I realized I was writing a book set in Rhode Island. The visual I had in my head for my fictional town was of a New England coastal area, but when I thought about it, I realized the scenery details in my head were of the landscape in and around the Newport, Middleton, and Portsmouth areas.

So, here’s to the members of the Rhode Island Romance Writers who are always welcoming when, on occasion, I visit a monthly chapter meeting or attend an annual weekend writers’ retreat. And for showing me around the coast of Rhode Island, so filled with history and beauty.

I hope you enjoy this book as much as I loved writing Marlee and Brian’s story.

~ Delsora

Contents

About The Love Left Behind * Dedication * Acknowledgments * Note to my Readers

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 * Epilogue

Excerpt from The Rancher Needs a Wife * About the Author * Other Books by Delsora Lowe * Reviews * Copyright

Chapter One

The wedding ceremony had gone off without a hitch. Even so, Marlee Dunning held her breath deep inside to ward off any jinx to her thoughts of all going well. She’d been in the business long enough to know expelling prior to the last guest exiting was a no-no.

Standing several yards inside the ballroom doors, she pressed her hands against her chest, relaxed her shoulders, and raised her head. The splendor of the sun warmed her cheeks. On this beautiful mid-September day, the light poured through the bank of twelve-foot tall accordion doors overlooking the estate gardens. The view never got old, even though she’d witnessed the sight a million times since summers as a teen spent visiting her aunt.

Outside, the silver torches along the edges of the patio overlooking the ocean had been lit. The sun lowered to hover over the horizon, shimmering a path across the Rhode Island estate pond. Guests picked their way over the flagged-stone walkway toward the wide-open patio doors and streamed into the ballroom.

The silver wall sconces gleamed and glinted in the late afternoon. Couples and singles, alike, searched for their names on silver-edged place cards. Marlee lingered near the first row of tables she had meticulously checked a dozen times in the last few hours. She breathed a sigh of relief at the murmured exclamations about the beauty of the venue.

A tall woman in an emerald green, square-necked sheath exclaimed over the centered, low-lying bowls filled with silver roses, gray-green eucalyptus, and pittosporum atop the rose-gray cloths at each table. Marlee swallowed an overt gloat, remembering the battle she’d had with the bride’s mother as she defended the newlywed’s color choices.

She glanced at the bank of patio doors, where her head server stood by with a guest list and corresponding table numbers for those unable to locate seating. Tuxedo garbed wait staff clutching champagne bottles stood at attention around the rim of the room, ready to pour for the first toast to the newly-weds.

The aura of romance surrounded her. What she sold—dreams and glamour and a high-end venue.

Marlee had given up on her own dreams, except on days like today when she wondered about what-ifs. She shook her head, straightened her shoulders, and concentrated on business. She was fine. No need to overthink the past.

Her gaze swept over the entire dining room, as a spark of excitement flickered through her. Expanded over the last five years from her great aunt and uncle’s original vision, this was her domain. All hers. She’d forged ahead, despite her husband’s dire warnings of failure. One reason she’d divorced him.

She bit her lip to quell the smirk of a smile she wanted to shoot toward the heavens. Or more likely, aim her bitter stare at his lack of respect and faith in her abilities, never mind his unfaithfulness, toward the fiery depths of…

She shrugged off depressing thoughts, checked her watch, and stepped toward the patio doors.

Darcy, her manager, organized the bridal party for photos on the patio, near the trellis that cascaded with the same florals as on the tables. With the shimmery and slim-fitting, silver-gray bridesmaid gowns, the setting was a perfect backdrop.

The couple had opted out of a formal receiving line, but wanted to announce the wedding party in a grand entrance. Once the preliminary photo session ended, the procession would enter the hall, the wedding party seated, and the toasts would begin.

Marlee loved weddings. She loved the pageantry of the ceremony and the grandeur of receptions. Even the simplest of weddings had both. The allure and fun of running this business lay in making each wedding a perfect match for the bride and groom.

She ran her hands down her black midi-dress and eased into the shadows of the room to let the crew do what they did best. Except to pitch in if needed, her job was done. Although, she wouldn’t necessarily take a final breath of relief until dinner had been served, the cake cut and disbursed, and the night eased into the dancing portion of the reception. Only then would she breathe easy, slip out to escape to her suite on the top floor, and leave the party in the capable hands of her manager and staff.

Despite this being the thirty-seventh wedding she’d organized since her great aunt left her the grand estate on the outskirts of Newport, her nerves continued to spark.

The pre-planning and organization that went into each event was her realm of expertise. Sure, that part came with both the joy of watching a wedding come together and the frustration of working with interfering relatives, usually the mothers of the brides. This MOB had been particularly meddlesome, but Marlee loved the challenge.

She stepped forward to help an elderly couple navigate their way to their table.

Thank you, dear. The woman reached out to catch Marlee’s hand. You’ve a lovely spot here. Everything is so elegant.

Marlee displayed her practiced customer service smile, but inside, she beamed with pride.

The crystal sparkled from the dimmed wall sconces and the soft light of the overhead, unpretentious chandeliers hanging from the trayed ceiling. The overall effect was romantic and, Marlee had to agree, elegant. The look she aimed for when she renovated the old story and a half tall ballroom.

The last few years were spent building the perfect staff and reputation. Their chef was exceptional, the management and wait staff of the highest caliber, and the orchestral house-band was known for the ability to ease from classical and soft-jazz dinner music into full-blown and raucous dance music.

All those years waitressing after she dropped out of college and then managing restaurants and event venues while running a household, raising a child, and reigning in a wandering husband prior to rescuing the estate, culminated in that sweet compliment by the older woman she’d just seated.

Marlee inhaled the lavish floral scents and admired the sparkling tableware that showcased a successful business.

Tonight was the embodiment her carefully laid plan for this particular event worked seamlessly. As long as the MOB was kept occupied enough to not interfere one…more…time.

The music changed from soft background to a grand entrance tune signaling the arrival of the wedding party fresh from the photo shoot. Everyone stood and cheered as the wedding attendants paraded in to You’re Still the One.

The song reminded her of her college days and the only man she’d ever loved. The one man she would never forget. The one man who broke her heart. The one man who would always be the one.

She shook her head, dislodging disjointed thoughts of love and hate from the past, and concentrated on the now as each attending couple entered the room, spaced out for full effect. The bow ties and cummerbunds matched the silver-gray of bridesmaid dresses and were spectacular under the subtle light of the chandeliers. The colors perfect against the backdrop of the wide urn displaying a fan of tall rose and silver-gray florals staged against the wall behind the head table.

She signaled the thumbs up sign to Darcy standing