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“I’d love to.” The shadow seemed to be gone from her eyes. “Also… can we talk about the wedding a little?”

“Sure.” He put the golf cart into motion. “What needs to be decided?”

“Well, Creekside Fellowship is already booked for June 17. We could find out if the town square is available?”

“How about getting married up here in the lodge instead?”

“Oh, could we? But there will be guests onsite, won’t there?”

He shrugged. “Sure, but we can close the lodge to them for a few hours. Do you want me to check with Grandfather?”

“Would you mind? That sounds amazing. The fireplace is so gorgeous, and then the view of the lake from the windows on both sides. The grand staircase coming down. I love it!”

Tate grinned at her, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. He could envision her descending the staircase in a flowing white gown. “Your parents won’t mind? Because if it’s here, Nadine can run the kitchen.”

“My mother is having fits about the short timeline and the catering. I suggested maybe the church women could bring plates of sweets and that would be good enough.”

“How about a cake? My cousin on my mom’s side had this enormous creation with a chocolate waterfall down the middle of it.”

Stephanie wrinkled her nose and looked up at him. “Really?”

“Really. It was quite the sight.”

“I don’t want that. I wouldn’t even if I had two years to plan and had all the money in the world.”

Money wasn’t an issue, but time definitely was. But… maybe there was a way. “Want me to take care of the cake?”

She looked perplexed. “But you know fewer people in Jewel Lake than I do.”

“Do you have a cake decorator in your back pocket?” He ran his hand across her hips on the golf cart seat.

“No.” She giggled.

“Then let me. I have some ideas.” He’d have to give Mom a call, but she’d be up for it, wouldn’t she? If Dad had to fly to Gilead to bring Mom to the ranch for the wedding anyway, what was one more passenger? Or there was that bakery in Chicago that catered some of Sullivans’ gatherings there.

“Okay.” Stephanie rested her head against his shoulder, and he snugged her close. “Oh! Look at the view.”

“These are the cabins ready for occupancy.” He spied the golf cart Kaci had claimed. “Want to see inside one?”

“Please!”

He parked, and they went up the steps. “Hello?” he called as he opened the door.

“Hello!” a female voice answered from the loft above. Kaci’s curly dark hair appeared over the railing. “Oh, hi, Tate. Stephanie. Come on in.”

“This is gorgeous.” Stephanie looked around in wonder. “All the comforts of home.”

Kaci jogged down the half-log staircase. “Isn’t it cute? All six on Dragonfly Lane are alike. They have small but full kitchens, gathering rooms, and a bedroom and bath tucked beneath the loft. They each sleep six comfortably, or even eight if the occupants fold out the sofa.”

“With decks that look right onto the lake. What a great place for a vacation.”

“Yes, the previous owners had great vision,” Tate agreed.

“I think you have to credit the owners before the Smiths.” Stephanie’s mouth pulled into a thoughtful frown. “They tried to get this on the map probably ten years ago, but then the rancher got sick — Lou Gehrig’s, I think — and they lost heart. They finally had to sell, then the Smiths bought it and, well, you know the rest of the story.’

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Compassion crossed Kaci’s face. “What a rough time they must have had.”

Tate shook his head. “It does sound like a sad tale.” Fortuitous for Sullivan Enterprises down the road, though.