Free Picture Perfect (Weddings by Design Book #1): A Novel by Janice Thompson Page B

stark contrast to his deep tan, and the expression on his face spoke of contentment. Happiness.
    Then again, why wouldn’t the guy be happy? He got all the breaks.
    “Well, one thing’s for sure, Hannah Grace,” Mama said as she faced the sink full of dirty dishes. “We McDermotts might fight to the finish, but with competitors like that, it’ll be a lovely fight.”
    “A lovely fight?” I let out an unladylike snort. “I somehow doubt it. According to Dad, the Kincaids and McDermotts don’t get along. I guess this is no time to sign a peace treaty.”
    “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Mama glanced over her shoulder at the picture, and a girlish smile turned up the edges of her lips. “I might be willing to sign.”
    “Mama!”
    She giggled and went back to work, her hands now deep in suds. “I’m sorry I almost threw away your article. Guess I should pay more attention to the mail.”
    “I guess so.” I finally ripped open the breakfast bar and took a little nibble. “I have to go. Not quite sure when I’ll be back, exactly. Kind of depends on how much work is involved. The Rossis have a big family, so pray for me. It’s going to be a challenge to get this done.”
    She turned toward me once again, and her face lit in a smile. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t I come with you? That way we’ll already be together. We can go on from there. And maybe I could help you in some way. You know? Doesn’t that sound like fun?” Her expression told me it sounded fun to her.
    “Hmm.” I paused to think this through. Might not hurt to have someone else there to assist.
    At once my pride kicked in. What would it look like to Bella? I didn’t want her to think that I couldn’t handle things on my own.
    “I’m not sure,” I said after a moment.
    Mama sighed and reached for a dish towel to dry the bowl in her hands. “I understand. You’re a grown woman. You don’t need your mama tagging along.”
    “It’s not that. I just don’t want you to be bored.” I offered what I hoped would look like a convincing smile. “And it’s going to be really chaotic. They’ve got kids. Lots and lots of kids.”
    “I love children. You know that.” She gave me that same “why don’t you get married and have a few?” look I’d seen so many times.
    Good grief. How would I get around this?
    “I’ll tell you what.” I grabbed my mother’s hand, an idea taking hold. “You come by Club Wed around noon, okay? We should be wrapping up by then. There’s someone I want you to meet before we head out for the day.”
    “Bella Neeley?”
    “Well, Bella, yes, but someone else too.” I filled her in on the Food Network connection, and for a minute there, I thought she might faint.
    Mama could barely get a word out. “You’re—you’re—you’re telling me that Rosa—the very Rosa who makes all of that great Italian cuisine—lives here, on the island?”
    “Yes. She’s Bella’s aunt. It took me awhile to figure it out too, because Rosa’s last name is Rossi. Bella’s is Neeley, but that’s her married name.”
    “I—I—I see.” Mama began to pace. “And I get to meet her? And Laz too?”
    I nodded, praying Bella would go along with the idea. Had I spoken too soon?
    “There is a God, and he loves me!”
    Her joyous outburst surprised me. “Well, of course, Mama. We’ve always known that.”
    “Oh, honey, you don’t understand.” My mother’s eyes filled with tears. “I watch every episode of The Italian Kitchen . I record it and watch while your father’s at work. He would never understand my passion for Italian food. I’ve been sneaking around for months, wishing, hoping, dreaming about manicotti. And ravioli. And garlic twists. And tiramisu.”
    “Ah.” I smiled. “I’ve actually eaten Rosa’s manicotti. It’s wonderful.”
    “You—you have? I’m so jealous.”
    I gave my mother a detailed description, which had my mouth watering in short order. Mama began to gush—now in