Diary of a Real Payne Book 3 by Annie Tipton

Author:Annie Tipton [Tipton, Annie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-63058-576-1
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2014-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

The crystal-clear ocean water gently laps the white sandy beach as the tropical breeze tickles palm tree leaves high above. The groom fidgets nervously in his Hawaiian shirt and khaki cargo shorts, his ghost-white legs mostly covered by long black socks and sandals on his feet. (EJ shakes her head and smiles to herself, amused by Mr. Johnson’s lack of fashion sense.) The white-haired man stands in the sand under an arch adorned with green palm fronds and hot pink exotic flowers. His entire face lights up and he stands a little taller, and EJ knows the time is almost here.

EJ looks across the tops of the heads of the wedding guests to see the lovely bride take her place at the edge of the sand. She strums the first few chords of the simple but beautiful tune and inhales the salty sea air into her lungs before singing in her clear soprano voice, “You are my sunshine….”

“I’d love to have a Hawaiian destination wedding.” Mrs. Winkle sighed and untied the vintage grass skirt that had triggered EJ’s daydream. “If only Honolulu weren’t four-thousand twenty-eight miles away from Spooner.”

“That’s a very specific number of miles, Wilma,” Mom said, taking the grass skirt from Mrs. Winkle and hanging it on a display of authentic Hawaiian clothes.

“I Googled the distance from Spooner to Honolulu.” Mrs. Winkle’s eyes twinkled. “A girl can dream.”

“I know you’ll come up with a fabulous plan for your wedding, Mrs. Winkle.” EJ returned a flower lei to the display and glanced around the antique shop full of interesting goods for sale. “I mean, you’re the most creative person I know.”

“The child speaks truth!” Miss Adele, the shopkeeper of Miss Adele’s Antiquities, popped out from behind a display of mismatched trophies, some of them more than seventy years old but shining like they were brand new. “I gave up any hope I had to be as creative as you years ago, Wilma.”

Miss Adele was a feisty little lady, a retired junior high algebra teacher, and one of Mrs. Winkle’s good friends from the bowling league. Miss Adele loved helping people plan their events, and even though she wouldn’t admit it, Miss Adele had almost as many fascinating ideas as Mrs. Winkle. The shopkeeper wore multiple layers of sparkly, gauzy shawls on her thin shoulders and more jingly bangles on her wrists than EJ could count. The reading glasses propped on her head were encrusted with multicolored jewels, only matched by the large rings on nearly every finger. Miss Adele greeted Mrs. Winkle, Mom, and EJ with an air kiss on each cheek—“like the Europeans do,” she’d explained the first time EJ and she met.

“Adele, I should’ve come to you weeks ago—I don’t know where to begin with this wedding business!” Mrs. Winkle held her face in her hands as she looked around the store. “Classic and serious or fun and frivolous?”

“Oh dear, I’d hate to think those were our only two options!” Mrs. Winkle, Mom, and EJ followed Miss

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