by Donna Ball
Lindsay made a brief rueful expression and lifted one shoulder. “Now that I can’t use roses, what difference does it make?”
“I thought Dominic was set on having the ceremony in the vineyard.”
Lindsay sighed. “Roses are my signature flower. I was going to have sprays of them at each row of seats, and winding through the grape arbor, and all along the reception table. And in the bouquet, of course.”
“It’s a little late in the year for roses anyway,” Bridget said sympathetically.
“Unless you’re planning to wait until summer,” Cici said.
Lindsay brightened slightly. “That’s a thought. The gardens are gorgeous in May.”
Cici and Bridget exchanged a look. It was Cici who spoke. “You know, Lindsay—and don’t take this the wrong way—but I was just wondering … are you sure about getting married?”
Lindsay looked both surprised and insulted. “What do you mean? Of course I am! It was my idea, remember? Why would you say that? Of course I am!”
“It’s just,” Bridget put in quickly, “you keep changing the date …”
“That’s not all my fault,” Lindsay protested. “Dominic had to go to that conference in California in August and we all agreed he couldn’t afford to miss it …”
Cici and Bridget quickly murmured consent.
“And I couldn’t get the dress altered in time for the next date, and the minister wasn’t available on the next one, and my sister couldn’t make it on the next one. And don’t forget Paul and Derrick’s grand opening pretty much took up all of last month, and since Paul is my wedding planner I could hardly do it without him, could I? Besides, most weddings take over a year to plan. We’ve barely been engaged three months!”
“Well,” Cici pointed out a little less than tactfully, “most people aren’t as old as you are when they start planning.”
Lindsay gave her a sharp look.
“What I meant was,” Cici corrected herself quickly, “you’re the one who said why wait? It was your idea to have the wedding this year.”
“There’s a lot to consider,” Lindsay said, only partially mollified. “It’s not just the wedding, you know, but here we are about to bottle our first vintage, and Dominic is working overtime with the harvest coming up, which you might not know is a pretty big deal when you’re running a winery.”
“That’s all true,” Bridget agreed. “But you haven’t even made some of the most important decisions, like where you’re going to live …”
Lindsay frowned uncomfortably into her glass. “Well, it’s not like we’re college students, you know. We both have lives, and a lot of stuff to consolidate. It’s complicated.”
Cici nodded. “Just like it was when we all moved in here together.”
“But this is a huge house,” Bridget went on, “with more than enough room for a married couple, if that’s what you’re worried about. We can fence off a section of the pasture for the horses, and if the golden retriever is a house dog he won’t even notice Rebel.”
Cici shot Bridget a quick look. “Even though we’ve never had a house dog before.”
“And Ida Mae would have a fit,” Lindsay said. “She barely tolerates us in the house.”
“And we can always use more barn cats,” Bridget went on cheerfully.
“We already have a cat!” Cici exclaimed, and then looked around suspiciously. “Where is he, anyway?” The new kitten, whose name was still under debate, had an unnerving habit of springing out of what was apparently thin air to latch onto ankles, pants legs, shoulders, and sometimes scalps with needlelike claws, causing them all to mistrust the silence when they could not see him.
“This is a working farm,” Bridget insisted firmly. “We need working cats.”
“Which lets out that little monster of yours.” Erring on the side of caution, Cici tucked both of her bare feet onto the top rung of the rocker, presumably out of harm’s way.
“Maybe the four of us should all sit down and have a talk about how it’s going to work,” Bridget suggested, “just like we did when we decided to buy the house.”
“Just like we did when we decided to go into partnership with Dominic on the winery,” Cici clarified. “You’re the one who’s always saying that you can make anything work with a plan.”
Lindsay nodded, and sipped her wine. “You’re right. That’s what we’ll do. We’ll all sit down and work things out. That will make everything so much easier.”
“How about now?” Cici suggested. She lifted her arm to beckon Dominic to the porch. He latched the door to the chicken coop and waved back.
“Not tonight,” Lindsay said. “I’m too tired. But soon.”
“When?” Bridget said.
“Soon. Maybe next week. I’ll see when Dominic has some free time.”
“He has some free time now,” Cici pointed out.
Dominic put away the feed bucket and started across the lawn toward them, but Lindsay was already shaking her head. “We’ll get around to it. What’s the rush, anyway?”
Cici glanced again at Bridget, who responded with a slight, almost imperceptible lift of her eyebrows that Lindsay chose to ignore. Cici said, “Look, Linds, we’re on your side, you know that, whatever you want to do. It’s just that we just went through this whole thing with Lori, remember, where she didn’t want to pick a date, and she didn’t want to try on dresses …”
“I have my dress!” Lindsay protested.
“Because Lori didn’t need it,” Bridget pointed out.
“Because the reason she didn’t want to be pinned down about any of the plans was that she really didn’t want to get married at all,” Cici said. “So I’m just saying, maybe you should ask yourself if the reason you’re having such a hard time making decisions is … well, you know.”
Lindsay said patiently, “Look, we don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to weddings around here, you know. The first time we tried to have a wedding at Ladybug Farm a tornado came and the goat ate the cake.”
“Not the whole cake,” Bridget protested.
Lindsay overrode her. “And the second wedding we planned, the bride ended up running away to be with another man.”
Cici objected, “I wouldn’t say Lori ran away. Exactly.” She frowned into her wine. “Besides, that had nothing to do with us.”
“The point is,” Lindsay said, “I’ve waited over twenty years to get married again, and you can believe me when I tell you it will be for the last time. All I’m trying to do is make sure everything is as perfect as it can be. And it will take as long as it takes.”
Bridget sipped her wine, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t know, Lindsay. After a certain age, it doesn’t always pay to put to things off. It’s like the preacher said, we’re not promised tomorrow.”
Lindsay drew in a sharp breath to reply but let it out silently as Dominic came up the steps.
“Hello, my darlings,” he greeted them. “How was the funeral?”
Lindsay made a face. “Why do people say that? It was a funeral. How good could it be?”
“It’s a Southern thing,” Bridget said. “We have this whole dark delight thing going on with funerals.”
“Speak for yourself,” Lindsay said. “I hate them.”
“Actually,” said Dominic, “I was just being polite.”
“It was a lovely service,” Lindsay replied dutifully. She extended one hand in welcome, but her smile seemed a little distracted.
“I’m sorry I missed it.” He caught her fingers and kissed them, then turned to pour himself a glass of wine. “I was fond of Maggie.”
“You were at the visitation last night,” Bridget reminded him. “I know the family appreciated that. Will you stay for supper?”
“Thank you, but I’ll just have a sip with you, if I may, and then get along. The day is only half done.” He lifted the wine bottle and examined the label before pouring, more out of habit than curiosity. In his world, the only wine that matte
red was the wine from Ladybug Farm. All other vintages were just filling in the time until his own was ready to debut. “Good turnout, was there?”
“Everyone in the county,” Cici replied. “If we hadn’t gotten there early we never would have gotten a seat. Thanks for taking care of things while we were gone.”
Dominic topped off Cici’s glass, then Bridget’s, then Lindsay’s. He took his glass and sat next to Lindsay.
“You know, it makes you wonder,” Bridget said thoughtfully. “How many people will come to our funerals when it’s time?”
Lindsay groaned out loud again and Bridget insisted, “No, I’m serious. You see someone like that, who’s been here so long and touched so many lives, and people are standing in line to pay their respects … but we’ve only been here a few years, and we don’t know that many people. Really, who would come? And is there anything sadder than a funeral where nobody comes?”
“I’d come,” Cici assured her, “and I’d make Lindsay come whether she wanted to or not.”
“I’m sure your children would make the trip,” Dominic added.
Bridget nodded, somewhat encouraged. “That’s true, I suppose. And Katie would bring the grandchildren.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about little kids at a funeral,” Lindsay objected.
“You can’t protect children from everything in life,” Dominic said. “It’s important that they understand that what is today may not always be.”
“Of course the girls have to be there,” Bridget insisted, a little indignantly. “You always go to your grandmother’s funeral.”
“Paul and Derrick would come,” Lindsay said. “Paul never misses a chance to give a speech.”
“And I’m sure the garden club would send a representative,” Cici asked. “You’ve done a lot of work for them.”
“Not to mention the Ladies Aid Society at the church,” Lindsay added.
“There, you see?” Dominic lifted his glass to her. “You’ve already gathered quite a crowd.”
Bridget smiled contentedly. “I have, haven’t I?”
Lindsay gave a small, disbelieving shake of her head. “And we’re doing it again. Talking about funerals. Can’t anyone think of anything less maudlin?”
Cici sipped her wine. “My grandma always said you should stop and take stock of your life every now and then by counting the number of people who would go to your funeral if you dropped dead today. If you can’t find more than a dozen people who would make the effort, you’re doing something wrong.”
“I for one expect an impressive showing,” Dominic said. “I’m very well liked, if I do say so myself.”
“You’ve been here forever,” Cici agreed. “Everyone knows who you are.”
“Not to mention being in public service,” added Bridget.
“I wrote a column for the paper for five years,” Dominic pointed out.
“And every farmer in the county has probably had you to thank for his crops at one time or another.”
Dominic inclined his head modestly. “Well.”
“You ran the 4-H program and helped start the high school ag department,” added Cici. “Now that’s the kind of resume you need to have for a really good funeral.”
“They’ll be lined up in the street,” Bridget decided.
“Perfect,” said Dominic, “because I want the marching band to play “American Pie” while everyone files past the casket.”
Bridget and Cici laughed, but Lindsay pressed her hands to her ears. “You people are ghouls,” she said.
Dominic grinned. “Apologies, my love. But I do believe a well-done funeral is the reflection of a well-lived life.”
“We should be planning a wedding,” Lindsay grumbled, “not a funeral.”
“That reminds me,” Dominic said, “Cassie called this afternoon. She’s put together a week of vacation days and is definitely committed to coming out for the wedding. So that gives us a Yes for all three of the kids. As soon as you set a date, of course.”
Lindsay paused with her glass halfway to her lips, her attention sharpening. “Your daughter? She’s coming?”
“She said she wouldn’t miss it. Also,” he admitted, “she thought the trip would give her a chance to meet with their east coast distributor, so it’s a kill-two-birds-with-one-stone kind of thing.”
Dominic had three children, but his daughter, who managed a winery in California, was the oldest, and the farthest away. Now that she had committed to coming all the way from California, the wedding had suddenly taken on new scope.
Lindsay realized she was looking a little nonplussed, so she forced a quick smile. “That’s great. Your kids must really like you.”
He laughed. “I like to think so.”
“What I mean is, they’re all coming such a long way, and it’s a lot of trouble.”
“I’d do the same for them.”
“That’s true, I guess.”
“Besides …” He winked at her. “I think it’s only natural to be a little curious about who your new stepmother is going to be.”
Lindsay smiled, but it was a little weak.
“I think Katie would come from Chicago for my wedding,” Bridget said thoughtfully, “if I decided to get married again. Of course, the twins would be flower girls.”
“I’m sure Kevin could be talked into giving the bride away,” Cici added.
Bridget made a wry face. “I think it’s more likely he would refuse to give the bride away. Remember how hard he tried to talk me out of moving in here?”
“Up until the very minute we signed the papers,” Cici agreed.
“He can be a little bossy,” Bridget admitted. Then, “Don’t you think Lori would come home from Italy for your wedding?”
“I’m not even sure she’d come home from Italy for my funeral.” Cici’s tone was glum, and she took another sip of her wine.
“And what do you hear from her?” Dominic asked.
Cici’s daughter Lori, whose ambition was to be a winemaker, had apprenticed under Dominic during the summer, and he had more than a passing interest in her welfare. Though she reported she had secured another—paid, this time—apprenticeship at one of the most prestigious wineries in Italy, she was not as regular a correspondent as her mother would have liked.
“You probably hear more from her than I do,” Cici admitted, her expression still dour. “She’s still at Villa Laurentis, doing all sorts of obscure things with wine I can’t even pronounce, and she seems very happy. She e-mails pictures every week or so. It looks like a beautiful place.”
“Good for her,” Dominic said. “I hope she’s learning a lot and learning it fast, because we sure could use her help around here.” “Here” began and ended for Dominic at the winery. “When is she coming home?”
Cici shrugged unhappily. “Who knows? If ever. I think,” she confessed, “she’s involved with that boy, that Sergio she’d been e-mailing with before she left. It’s his father who owns the winery where she’s working—and living, I might add.”
Dominic chuckled. “I say again, good for her. Every young person should have two things in her life before she settles down: an adventure to remember, and an affair to regret.”
Cici frowned. “You sound like Lindsay. She’s the one who said every woman should be kissed by an Italian at least once.”
Dominic glanced at Lindsay, his eyes twinkling. “Did you, now?”
“I think it’s romantic,” Bridget said with a sigh. “Lori’s had a crush on this guy for over a year, she cancelled her wedding for him, flew across an ocean to meet him, and now she’s living in his castle.”
“Villa,” corrected Cici, still frowning.
“Whatever. It’s romantic.”
“It’s flighty and irresponsible.”
Bridget gave her a dry look. “I’m starting to see why she doesn’t call home more often.”
“October twenty-fifth,” Lindsay blurted.
Everyone stared at her.
Lin
dsay glanced around quickly, almost as though she was surprised to realize she had spoken out loud. But then she gave a decisive nod and repeated, “October twenty-fifth. That’s our wedding day.”
Dominic lifted an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t know. I’ll have to check my calendar.” He, too, had learned to take Lindsay’s constantly shifting dates in good humor.
Bridget smiled. “Sounds wonderful, Lindsay.”
And Cici murmured, “Can’t wait.”
“No, I’m serious,” Lindsay insisted. “This is it. October twenty-fifth.”
“Okay.”
“For sure this time. Really.”
“We’ll be there,” Cici assured her.
Lindsay sat back in her chair and sipped her wine, looking satisfied. “You’ll see. October twenty-fifth.” She reached across and took Dominic’s hand. He just smiled.
They sat for a time, sipping their wine, enjoying the gentle peace of the evening that floated down from the mountains and settled over the valley like a sigh. A bluebird landed on the feeder that Bridget had hung from the eaves of the porch, helped himself to a morsel or two, and darted away. Rebel the border collie raced across the lawn toward the house from the sheep pasture on a determined mission, then suddenly swerved in response to a call only he could hear and ran toward the woods; changed his mind and corrected course back toward the house. The chickens clucked and muttered as they found their roosts. A flock of barn swallows rose with a flutter of wings into the pale twilight sky.
Dominic said softly, “It seems only yesterday I was a boy sitting on this porch watching the day melt away. Where do the years go?”
Lindsay shared a quiet and private smile with him, and then with her two friends. “The more things change, the more they stay the same, I guess,” she said.
Bridget added somberly, “There’s nothing like a funeral to remind you how quickly the time passes.”
Cici sipped her wine, watching a hummingbird dart toward the feeder and then veer away. It all happened so quickly that the naked eye could not detect the pause the little bird had taken to drink from the feeder. “I feel bad,” she said after a moment. “During the service, all I could think about was what a waste all those fresh flowers were. I know we weren’t all that close to Maggie personally, but she did sell us this house and I realize now what I was trying not to think about was how she had changed our lives and how, now, everything is different. I know that doesn’t make sense.”