by Ginny Baird
Eleanor screwed up her face. “Of the problems, you mean?”
“No. The meeting?”
Eleanor shook her head. “Shoot away,” she answered, charging ahead with the details. “First we have the weather issue.”
Hope peered out the window at the clear blue sky.
“Things are looking dicey toward the end of the week,” Eleanor continued. “So, we should probably develop a backup plan for the ceremony.”
“Weather, right.” Hope tapped some notes into her phone and then snapped a pic of the group surrounding the table. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to catch Eleanor without wearing a scowl. Why was the woman so bitter? Wasn’t wedding planning supposed to be fun?
“What about the back porch?” Margaret suggested. “It’s nice and broad. Could probably accommodate thirty people. Especially if we moved furniture around and used the folding chairs.”
“Good idea,” Elsa agreed.
“It’s a beautiful porch,” Ava added. “Acoustics will carry very well from there.”
Elsa appeared to appreciate this thought. “For the violinist, yes.”
“I was actually thinking about—for me.” Ava beamed around the table and then settled her gaze on Hope. “I’m afraid I let the cat out of the bag. Oopsies.”
“Mo-om. I told you we’d think about it.” Hope attempted to sound gratefully chipper but technically failed. “I haven’t even mentioned the idea to Brent.”
“It’s just a little wedding tune,” Ava told the others. “I’ve been practicing for weeks! Ever since I first heard about the wedding.”
Hope decided to address this with her mom in private. This was tantamount to blackmail, and Ava knew it. Though Jackie honestly might not mind, it really needed to be her—and Brent’s—decision.
“The porch could work.” Eleanor nodded without looking up. “Assuming it’s not windy.”
Margaret frowned. “Oh dear. I didn’t consider that.”
“I thought the rain wasn’t coming until Sunday?” Elsa leaned forward with the question, and Hope was glad somebody in the family had been watching the weather report. She would have typically checked it on her phone, and there was no television in the carriage house.
“These fronts can shift suddenly,” Eleanor said, finally gracing them all with a look. “Especially this time of year. The forecast is looking dubious toward the end of the week. Anything could happen.”
That’s when Hope noticed something strikingly familiar about her. She’d seen those hazel eyes before, but they’d been shielded by heavy-framed glasses, and the teenager who wore them had light brown hair, not blond. Then, the realization clicked. “Lainie?” Hope asked uncertainly. “Lainie Fitch?”
Eleanor raised one pencil-thin eyebrow. “You can’t say you didn’t know until now.”
“I, um…er. Sorry, no. I mean, yes, of course. It’s just that you’re very different.” The Lainie Hope had known in high school had been extremely awkward and shy. She and Hope hadn’t exactly been friends, but they’d been in a few classes together.
“You’re not,” she said pertly, and Hope felt the dig. That’s when she remembered. Lainie’d had the most embarrassing “secret” crush on the president of the math club, but he’d had the unbearable hots for Jackie. While Hope had known Lainie a little and always been kind to her, very popular Jackie had likely never noticed her. They didn’t share any classes and weren’t exactly in the same social orbit. It was funny how they seemed to be now, with both of them becoming wedding planners. Although Hope imagined the schedule for coordinating nuptials in Blue Hill wasn’t quite as demanding as setting them up in Boston, one never knew.
“Isn’t this a small world?” Hope smiled around the table. “Lainie and I knew each other in high school.”
“I knew who you were, anyway.”
Lainie’s tense smile caused Grandmother Margaret to bristle. “Weren’t you the lucky one?”
Hope couldn’t believe Margaret had rushed to her defense. At the same time, she couldn’t make an enemy of the wedding planner. “We were both lucky,” Hope rushed in, “to have gone to such a great school.” She viewed Eleanor in what she hoped came off as an admiring fashion. “And look at you now, doing so well with your own business and everything.”
“It’s small but profitable.” Eleanor nodded, and then she got back to business. “So, plan B is on the porch if it rains.” She studied her tablet. “Worst-case scenario, we’ll have to move everything indoors.”
Elsa appeared worried. “That might be cramped, but it could work.”
“Maybe we should have gotten that tent, dear,” Margaret whispered into Hope’s ear. “Do you think it’s too late?”
“Is it?” she asked Eleanor, sure that Eleanor had overheard.
“There’ll be an extra charge because this change is so last minute.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Ava said.
“Ava’s right,” Elsa agreed.
“All right,” Eleanor said, speaking crisply. “I’ll see to it.” She studied her list. “The cake issue is next.”
“What about it?” Hope asked.
“You wanted white chocolate whip, but the caterer says she can’t make it.”
Hope knew one thing. If Jackie had ordered a certain type of cake, she’d had hard evidence that sort could be made. Her whole life was wedding planning. “And why’s that?”
“Because of the tiers,” Eleanor explained. “The batter’s too light to stand up to the weight. Only the top tier can be white chocolate. The others will have to be vanilla cake.”
Hope didn’t want to alter Jackie’s wishes for her cake. White chocolate had always been her sister’s favorite. She’d even asked for white chocolate Easter bunnies as a kid. “Well, maybe we should check out a different bakery?”
Eleanor blanched, aghast. “At this late date?”
“Or,” Hope corrected quickly. “Maybe I could talk to the cake maker? See what accommodations she can make?”
“What about cupcakes?” Elsa suggested. “Those can be cute.”
“Cupcakes for a wedding?” Margaret asked, appearing horrified.
“My niece had that done at her wedding,” Ava informed the group. “They were set on a tiered stand and actually looked very nice.”
Everyone’s expectant eyes turned on Eleanor. “Cupcakes could work,” she said, taking notes, and Hope panicked. Jackie had told her just to okay plans that were already set, not to change them.
“Wait. What about—”
“Do you have a better idea?” Eleanor asked.
“I, um…no.” Hope wondered why Jackie had chosen Eleanor to coordinate her wedding. Then she recalled Jackie saying that Elsa recommended using the planner who’d handled William and Sofia’s ceremony. Weddings by Eleanor Bell was also the only game in town.
“Okay, now.” Eleanor heaved a breath. “About the flowers.”
Hope massaged her forehead with her hand. Jackie had told her everything was all set. “What about them?” she asked, peering at Eleanor.
“We’re going to have to make some changes there. The red roses you requested came in yellow.”
“Yellow?” everyone asked at once.
“They’re a very pretty yellow, though,” Eleanor assured them. “It might already be too late to get in another shipment. The florist said she could try, but it will be down to the wire to secure the ninety dozen you requested.”
“What?” Hope’s jaw unhinged. “Ninety what?”
“Dozen.” Eleanor eyed her evenly. “You were pretty insistent about that. One dozen for every day of your courtship with Brent.”
“Oh, that’s sweet!” Elsa said.
Hope quickly did the math, understanding that totaled over one thousand roses.
“Yellow can be good,” Ava said.
Margaret backed her up. “It is summery. Nice for June.”
“Is there no way to get them in red?” Hope asked. “Yellow is kind of a friendship flower.” The others looked at her, and she continued. “Symbolizing, um, platonic love?”
“Then, what’s the florist supposed to do with all the others?” Eleanor countered.
“Well, since it was the florist’s mistake…”
“It wasn’t her.” Eleanor shook her head. “But her supplier.”
“Oh.”
“It’s such a little detail,” Ava whispered from Hope’s other side. “Maybe just go with it.”
“Fine, fine,” Hope agreed, feeling like she was treading through heavy sludge. This was not going as she’d anticipated at all, and she was going to have a lot of explaining to do to Jackie.
“The caterer’s good with the food order,” Eleanor replied, finally delivering some positive news. “The tables, linens, and place settings are ready to go, too. The beverages and bartender have been confirmed, along with the officiant. That only leaves…” She flipped through her tablet. “The issue with the musician.”
Hope’s stomach clenched.
“She’s not so sure she can play ‘Eres Tú’.”
Hope’s eyes widened in horror. Her mom had studied in Mexico in college, where she’d somehow heard the old seventies love song, which was an American pop classic, even though it was sung in Spanish. She’d wanted it sung at her own wedding, but her church’s regulations hadn’t allowed it. Hope and Jackie had grown up hearing their mom croon the old piece while badly mangling its high notes.
“I can’t imagine how that got on the agenda,” Hope said, glaring secretly at her mom. “We can just take it off.”
“Oh, no.” Ava raised her hands in protest. “Please, sweetheart, let’s not.”
“That’s a beautiful song,” Margaret said, as if recalling its high strains. “I haven’t heard it in decades.”
Shockingly, Ava took this as an invitation.
“Como una promesa, eres tú, eres tú—” she began singing, and Hope shouted.
“Mom!”
When everyone turned toward her, Hope softened her tone. “I mean, please. Stop.” Then her forehead shot up as she scrutinized her mom. “You mean you got in touch with the violinist directly?”
“It’s Nancy Carole,” she explained. “She and I worked together as baristas in the old days. She was putting herself through music school then.”
So her mom had gone behind Jackie’s back. She’d essentially admitted as much.
“I certainly had nothing to do with this,” Eleanor said sourly. “But, if you’re insisting on this change, you might have to find another violinist.”
“Well! She said it would be no problem.” Ava shrugged, appearing haughty. “Maybe Nancy’s not as talented as she thinks she is.”
Hope couldn’t wait for this meeting to end and the “fun” part of this day to get started. “No, no. We’re good,” Hope told Eleanor. “We can leave off ‘Eres Tú’ and stick with the original plan.”
“All right.” Eleanor gave a few final staccato taps on her tablet. “Looks like we’re all done. Thank you, ladies!” Then she stood with prompt efficiency and shook everyone’s hands.
“I’ll see you out,” Margaret said, standing. Elsa decided to go with them, leaving Hope alone with Ava at the table.
“You and I are going to have to discuss the song thing,” Hope said. “You know I said no promises.”
But Ava’s attention was still on the departing women and tightly focused on Eleanor. “I don’t like her aura,” she whispered with a grimace. “It’s very brown.”
Chapter Twelve
Brent grabbed a line and helped Derrick hoist up the mainsail on his grandpa’s forty-foot sailboat. His dad was at the tiller with Grandpa Chad seated beside him, and William scrambled around untying them from the dock. Within minutes, their sail caught the wind and they were moving away from the marina and into deeper water.
As much as Brent adored his baby sister, who was also an expert sailor, there was something special about being together with just the Albright men. He checked his watch, thinking of Jackie. Her meeting with the wedding planner should be done by now. Hopefully it had gone well.
The three brothers seated themselves on the bench on the starboard side of the ship as it listed port-ward, and they turned toward Long Island, one of the larger islands in the center of the bay. It was a gorgeous day, and the wind was just right.
“So, um,” Derrick began from beside him. “This marriage came up awfully fast.”
William leaned forward beyond him to address Brent. “But Jackie’s awfully nice.”
“Not saying she isn’t,” Derrick said. “I’m just asking…” He viewed Brent directly. “What’s the big rush?”
“You married Olivia after six weeks,” William replied.
“Yeah.” Derrick shook his head. “And look where that landed.”
“I appreciate your concern, little brother,” Brent said. “I really do. But Jackie and I are fine.”
“So what?” Derrick persisted. “You didn’t give her an engagement ring?”
“Of course I did. The one that belonged to Grandmother Margaret’s mother.”
“Yeah? Then where is it?”
William appeared interested in the answer to this question, too.
“She’s getting it sized,” he said, supplying the explanation Jackie had given him. “It was too loose, and she didn’t want to risk losing it.”
“It’s a shame you two couldn’t get that done before the wedding.”
“Yeah, well. I didn’t know it was a problem until recently.” Brent flipped down his sunglasses when the sun glinted against the boat. “And anyway, it’s not the engagement ring that matters for the ceremony. It’s the wedding bands.”
“You have them?” William asked.
Brent chuckled. “Tucked away for safekeeping, yep.”
“Coming about!” their dad shouted. The captain and the men ducked under the swinging boom holding the mainsail as it swerved abruptly in the opposite direction, turning the boat the other way. Then, they were seated on the port side, the wind and the current tugging their vessel along as they sailed parallel to the land.
“Jackie’s much more than meets the eye,” Brent told his brothers when they were newly settled. “She’s more than pretty. She’s accomplished and smart. Sweet and thoughtful, too.”
“I’ll second that last part.” William tugged on the bill of his hat. “She seems awfully sweet, I mean. Sofia took right to her, and Sofia’s always been a great judge of character.” He grinned broadly, patently alluding to himself. “Case in point.”
Brent and Derrick guffawed.
“Yeah, yeah. Sure,” they both said. Then the wind kicked up, its blustery chorus punctuating their happy banter.
…
After Eleanor left, Hope made up an excuse about being tired so she could go back to the carriage house and take a nap. Not that it was a lie. She fell into an exhausted sleep, dozing for more than two hours and completely missing lunch in the main house. She awoke feeling refreshed—and to a mild bubbling sound, drifting into the cottage through the screen door to the deck.
Hope found her mom soaking in the hot tub outside while applying a “Mother of Earth Mud Mask.” It had mostly dried on her face, causing deep grooves and wrinkles where the mud had cracked.
Ava heard her approach and looked up from the paperback novel she was reading. “Oh, hi. How was the nap?”
“Really great, thanks.” Hope took a sip of the coffee she’d brought out with her. Since she’d missed the midday meal, she’d snacked on some more of that delicious banana bread and had also indulged in a few of those yummy cookies. At least nobody was watching her carb intake at the carriage house.
&n
bsp; Her mom sat up and set down her book on the folded hot tub cover, which had been slid back on brackets. Warm steam rose up around her as perfuming bubbles percolated nearby. Although she was in her fifties, Ava still had the figure of a thirty-year-old and wore a tiny red bikini.
She claimed she maintained her body through hard work, low carbs, and a StairMaster. Which Hope found admirable. Though she wasn’t about to forgo chocolate and bread herself, she gave her mom credit for the amazing discipline she exhibited in at least one area of her life. In that way, she was a lot like Jackie.
“Did you reach your sister?”
“Not yet. I texted her but haven’t heard back. I’ll try again later.”
“The sooner she gets here the better, in my opinion.” She shot Hope a knowing look. “For all parties concerned.”
Hope slid her phone out of her pocket, checking it again for any missed messages or calls. But there was nothing from Jackie, probably because she was busy wrapping up that Martin wedding and preparing to finally attend a wedding week of her own.
Ava sighed dreamily and ducked down lower in the water so it covered her shoulders. “This is the life. If I’d experienced this side of Blue Hill before, I never would have left it.”
“Ha ha.” Hope took a seat on a lounge chair on the deck, gazing out over the water. A large sailboat was trolling along, and she counted five men on board. A couple of them—a guy wearing a fishing hat and another in a baseball cap—waved their arms while shouting hello. A third man wearing sunglasses gave a slow wave, his smile sparkling, and her heart skipped a beat. She’d know that grin anywhere.
“Look,” she said, standing. “That’s Brent.”
“What? Where?” Ava glanced frantically around, partially blocking her face with upturned hands.
Hope bounced on her feet. “Not here. There.” She held up her phone, recalling Jackie’s instructions to capture as much of the activity as possible on Instagram. What a stellar update this would be.
She otherwise wouldn’t have been able to provide a glimpse of Brent’s sailing trip, but now she could add this fun tidbit to Jackie’s Instagram story. She loaded the Insta app and pressed the camera icon.