Match Made in Paradise (A Paradise, Alaska Romance, Band 1) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Barbara Dunlop has published over fifty novels with Harlequin Books and eight novels with Tule Publishing. Her stories have ranged from light hearted comedies to family sagas. Barbara is a four time finalist for the RWA RITA award, and her Tule novel His Jingle Bell Princess has been optioned by Motion Picture Corporation of America for a Hallmark movie. Barbara's Tule novels have ranked as high as #1 on Amazon.com.

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Chapter One

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Mia Westberg had dressed meticulously for her husband Alastair Lafayette's funeral. She wore a black silk jersey under-dress that hugged her slim frame. A lace overlay softened the sweetheart neckline and brushed her knees in a sheer, scalloped hem. She added a lariat necklace of black diamonds and put her blond hair up, pinning a puff of black mesh to the wispy braid coronet. She finished with a pair of simple diamond halo onyx studs and slim heeled ankle boots over sheer black tights.

Alastair would have appreciated the ensemble. He'd chosen the dress himself from Lafayette Fashion's new fall Eternity Collection. Knowing his heart condition was worsening, he'd joked that she should wear it before it went out of season. It was dark humor, but that had been his way.

Now Mia and three hundred other mourners were assembled in St. Catherine's Cathedral off Wilshire Boulevard. Mia was on the aisle of the front right-hand pew with Alastair's adult children, Henry and Hannah separating her from his ex-wife, Theresa. None of the trio had looked her way. No surprise there. Henry and Hannah had just turned twenty-five. Mia was twenty-seven, and they'd never forgiven her for that.

The mayor was speaking at the pulpit. His remarks were supposed to be brief, making way for Joseph McKenzie to deliver the eulogy. Joseph was head of the California Fashion Design Council and a longtime friend of Alastair's. He sat across the aisle from Mia right now, notecards in hand, obviously holding back tears.

Mia's emotions were more complicated. She'd loved Alastair for the nine years of their marriage, and fifty was far too young for him to die. But she knew what nobody else did: Alastair's heart condition had made this moment inevitable. It had grown worse over the past six months, causing him intolerable pain and becoming more and more difficult to hide. But he was a proud and private man, and he'd wanted to keep his health a secret right up to the end.

Mia couldn't help but be happy that he'd succeeded. Her husband had lived a gifted life and died on his own terms.

The mayor, who clearly enjoyed the sound of his own voice reverberating from the redwood rafters of the beautifully gilded cathedral, finally ended his speech. People shifted, and a few coughed or whispered as the mayor left the pulpit.

Joseph rose and stepped across the aisle to give Mia's shoulder a comforting squeeze.

She sent him an encouraging smile. Unlike the mayor, Joseph wasn't a fan of public speaking.

But he did both himself and Alastair proud. His voice broke over a few heartfelt passages, and he paused twice to blow his nose. He brought some humor in at the end, and Mia chuckled along with everyone else at the story of Lafayette Fashion's first overseas show. It was long before her time, but anything that could have gone wrong did, and Alastair had eventually seen the humor.

"Did you see that?" Mia heard someone whisper behind her.

"Easy to tell she's not so brokenhearted," someone else whispered back.

Henry looked over at Mia then-well, glared really, but she levelly met his gaze. It was no secret that he and Hannah considered her a gold digger. After reading Alastair's will, they were more convinced of it than ever. As Alastair had predicted, they'd already contested the will in court.

Theresa daintily dabbed her eyes with a lace-edged hankie while Hannah squeezed her mother's hand in a show of support. But having heard Alastair's side of the divorce and having watched Theresa's behavior over the past nine years, Mia knew it was all for show. If Theresa was broken up about anything, it was the lack of an inheritance.

Joseph ended with a heartfelt farewell to Alastair. The priest led the congregation in a prayer then in a hymn where half the people knew the words and half the people obviously didn't. Mia was in the half who didn't. And then everyone rose as the pallbearers escorted the casket down the aisle.

"She couldn't be bothered to shed a tear." Mia heard the voice behind her again.

She could have turned to see who'd uttered the words, but it didn't matter. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and fixed her expression, pretending she was on a runway in New York City. It was Alastair who'd fostered the ice-princess persona for Mia's modeling career. He'd want her to carry it off today of all days. He'd be sorely disappointed in her if she turned into a blubbering mess.

And it wasn't that kind of a sendoff. She was proud of Alastair, and he needed her to be strong. They'd often talked about the future, what would happen when she was left to manage things alone. It was time now for her to carry on.

Mourners clustered around Theresa as if she were the grieving widow. But their words of condolence faded as Mia followed behind Alastair's casket. Nobody reached out to her, and she could feel the shuns, the disapproving stares as she made her way to the back of the chapel. Even Lafayette's vice president of marketing, Geraldine Putts, slid her gaze to one side when Mia passed. The action struck Mia as odd, but the moment was over quickly, and then she was outside the cathedral, where a black hearse waited under the hot June sun with a dozen black sedans lined up behind.

There was something terribly final in the way they slid Alastair's casket into the elongated car. Maybe it was knowing the next stop was Sunnydale Cemetery, where they'd put him in the ground and smooth the earth above him to erase his existence. Mia's chest tightened, and she swallowed. She refused to cry.

Someone touched her arm. "You doing okay?"

It was Marnie Anton. Marnie was on the short side. She had a slight frame, glossy auburn hair, a spray of freckles and was wearing a pair of mottled-green oblong glasses over her green eyes. Dressed in skinny jeans and a white French-tucked blouse with a lightweight olive-colored jacket draped over top-interesting choice for a funeral-Marnie didn't look at all like a lawyer. But she was the best.

"I'm doing fine," Mia said, surprised that Marnie had shown up at all but relieved to have a supporter at her side.

"I came as soon as I heard."

"Heard?"

Marnie had known about the funeral arrangements since Monday.

The pallbearers drew away and the hearse driver closed the oversized door. A flock of pigeons flew up from the square. Not doves, but still, maybe it was something. Mia's breath hitched one more time.

Marnie canted her head to where Theresa, Henry and Hannah stood few feet away. She lowered her voice. "That those three just stabbed you in the back."

Theresa started forward then, her nose in the air, holding tight to Henry's and Hannah's hands as she marched straight to the first sedan in the lineup.

"Seriously?" Marnie said, staring after the swish of Theresa's taffeta skirt and the bobble of Hannah's netted little fascinator hat.

Mia wasn't sold on the fascinator's bow and protruding feathers. A British event was really the only place to pull off that look.

"Whatever," she said to Marnie, trying to mean it. But for a flash of a second she considered elbowing Theresa out of the way and diving into the lead sedan. But she could hear Alastair's admonishing voice: Never let them know you care. You don't.

"Ride with me?" she asked Marnie.

"You got it."

The driver of the second car solemnly opened the back door for them. Marnie ducked in and slid across the seat to make room for Mia. She set her roomy tan leather tote bag in the middle.

The driver took his place up front, but they didn't...