Must-Have Husband

big help in running the business. Wendell Senior would be able to go to his grave in peace, leaving Wendell Estates Wines in his son’s and Elizabeth’s capable hands. Now his final task remained in marrying off his granddaughter. But seriously, couldn’t she have made a more careful choice for herself?
    Wendell pushed back in his chair and set his putter aside. “Yes, I’m here.”
    “Elizabeth and I were hoping to have a moment to talk with you.”
    Wendell frowned, feeling a scolding coming on.
    “Where are your nurses?” Elizabeth asked, looking around.
    “I sent them out for lattes,” Wendell answered, feeling grumpy. “I don’t need them around twenty-four-seven, you know.”
    “They look like models, Dad,” Junior said. “I’m surprised to hear you complaining.”
    Wendell waved him away. “It’s not the nurses I’m concerned with. It’s Connie.”
    “Precisely what we’re here to see you about,” Junior said.
    “She sent you?”
    “No. Elizabeth insisted.”
    Elizabeth took her husband’s hand.
    Wendell studied them both: the united front. “I see.”
    “Wendell,” Elizabeth said kindly. “We know that you love Connie just as much as we do.”
    “We also understand that Mac is a little different from the fiancés she’s brought home before.”
    “He took off his clothes at my party!”
    Junior drew a breath. “Well, okay, that was unusual. But Elizabeth has an explanation for that.”
    “An explanation?” He studied his daughter-in-law. “In the sixties, it was free love, then in the seventies came women’s lib. In the eighties, it was disco, then hip hop; now, I don’t know. But I can tell you one thing. Disrobing at a party is not the norm in any age!”
    Elizabeth raised her brow. “It is at bachelor parties.”
    Wendell stared at his son. “You didn’t tell her about…?”
    “No, Dad,” Junior said quickly before Wendell could accidently spout that whole thing about the girl popping out of Junior’s pre-wedding-night cake. “Our point is this. Connie has made her choice in Mac, and we — Elizabeth and I” —h e tightly squeezed her hand — “ believe that all of us should support her.”
    “What was I last night if not supportive? I did suggest that the new couple have the first dance.”
    “Yes, and that was very nice,” Elizabeth said softly.
    “We understand your reservations…” Junior began.
    “Do you?” Wendell cut in.
    “Of course, we do. He’s in a different line of work than we’re used to.”
    “And out of work besides,” Wendell added. “Ollie filled me in.”
    “He has plans to rebuild his store,” Elizabeth said.
    “With what money?”
    The three of them looked at each other.
    “There’s something that doesn’t add up about this man.”
    “Dad, please.”
    Elizabeth gazed at him with pleading eyes. “Let’s just give him this weekend. All right? A little more time to get to know him and prove to us he’s not nearly the bad guy you think he is.”
    “Harrumph.”
    “Dad?”
    Wendell shifted in his chair, feeling out of sorts again. So Mac had a burned-down business and was planning to rebuild, with no visible means of monetary support, as far as any of them could tell. None of this seemed right to Wendell. In fact, it sounded downright suspicious. As if this hiking-boot-wearing Tarzan was out to take financial advantage of his granddaughter. Naturally he wanted her to get married, but to the right man , not some tree-swinging stranger she’d picked up off the Internet.
    “Wendell?” Elizabeth pressed when he didn’t answer. “Please promise you’ll at least try.”

    Mac arose early after having spent a fitful night trying to imagine what he might do to fix his enormous blunder with the dress. It occurred to him he could ask Ollie to borrow some thread and a sewing needle while pretending he needed it to stitch up Ollie’s clothes he had ruined. But then Mac reasoned he shouldn’t go anywhere near that sacred gown again, especially carrying a sharp instrument. It probably would require professional repair. Somebody trained in working with delicate materials would have to undo the damage Mac had caused. His palms grew moist at the realization he’d need to offer to pay for it, which would probably take all the money from this gig he was earning to begin with. But could he really charge for his time here when he’d made a fiasco of the whole event? First by causing a scene on the dance floor, next by