by Susan Wiggs
Annelise came in next, followed by Lilac and Chips, who had seemingly adopted her. Every time she came to stay at Bella Vista, the cats took to sleeping in her room and shadowing her every move. “There mustn’t be crying on such a joyous day,” she said.
“That’s easier said than done,” Tess told her, raising her tea mug. “But they’re good tears. I want to make a toast right here and now, to all the good women in my life—my mother, my grandmother, my sister—you became my family at the very moment I needed you most. And to Ernestina and Jamie—you inspire me in ways you can’t imagine. I feel so blessed that you’re all here today.”
Shannon lifted her coffee cup. “May the men in your life end up being as good to you as the women.”
“Hear, hear,” said Isabel. “To Tess...and her one true love.” She heard the echo of her conversation with Mac, and of course that evoked memories of the night they’d spent together in Francesca’s room. She still couldn’t believe it had happened, that she had been so open and vulnerable. His lovemaking had been a revelation. Never had she been treated with such tenderness and respect. Never had she found a man’s touch so arousing.
She would have loved to linger over thoughts of Mac, but the caterer and florist arrived. After that, the day kicked into high gear. The wedding planner orchestrated things like a practiced maestro, directing everyone to their tasks. Isabel was more than happy to take orders. She had already created the menu, perfected the recipes. Together, she and Tess had designed the venue. She and the others happily submitted to manicures, pedicures, hair and makeup. There was nothing left to be done except to dress for the occasion.
Two hours before the guests started to arrive, the women gathered to prepare themselves and the bride for the pre-ceremony photos. A handmade cream lace veil had been imported from Shannon’s native Ireland. Tess had chosen an ivory couture dress from a boutique in San Francisco, and a pair of glittery dancing shoes for performing the surprise wedding tango they’d learned from Annelise. The Irish veil was held on with a crown of fresh flowers. Around her neck, Tess wore the pink alabaster lavaliere from Annelise, and it was hard for Isabel to look at her without getting teary-eyed.
Life had come full circle for these two, and Isabel’s heart was full of gratitude for them both. This was exactly what she had pictured for Bella Vista—that it would be a gathering place for friends and family, for reunions and celebrations.
“You’re so beautiful,” she said. “You look like a dream.”
“I feel as if I’m in a dream,” she said, her eyes sparkling like emeralds. “Come on. The photographer wants us for pictures.” Then she stepped back and stared at Isabel. “And look at you. My God, where did you get that dress?”
Isabel twirled in a rustle of silk and chiffon. “You like?”
“It’s amazing.”
“Mac and Grandfather found it in a trunk of my mother’s things. It’s a Valentino.”
“Seriously? Wow, what a find.”
“I had the cleaners in town do some restoration work.”
“Lovely,” Shannon said, “but you need shoes to do it justice. Bare feet aren’t going to cut it, even with that pedicure.”
“Oh...I hadn’t thought about shoes.”
“Someone did.” Ernestina came forward with a black-and-white box with a suspiciously familiar signature logo. She removed the lid to reveal a pair of perfect champagne-colored peep-toe pumps inside.
“Hey Lady dancing shoes,” Tess exclaimed. “Where did you get those?”
Isabel’s face drained of color, which must have clued in Tess immediately.
“Oh, no, he didn’t,” Tess said.
“I mentioned the shoes once, I swear. I can’t believe he remembered....” Unable to suppress a grin, she slipped her foot into the pump. A perfect fit.
“You look incredible,” Tess said. “You should do ‘fitted and revealing’ more often. You’re going to outshine the bride.”
“Ha. Not a chance.”
* * *
The ceremony was everything they had envisioned, only better, because there were unexpected surprises, like the way the deep amber light of sunset sneaked through the gaps in the barn walls and illuminated the podium, decked with stargazer lilies. And the solemn joy with which the groom’s little daughter and son accompanied him down the aisle. And the fact that both Dominic’s younger sister, Gina, and Magnus, had both decided to wear a top hat and tails.
Tess had never been more beautiful. She wore her red hair swept up and adorned with a single lily. Her perfectly fitted ivory gown had a sweetheart neckline that framed the rose-pink pendant. The skirt was a long fall of silk chiffon that seemed to dance with every movement. The most beautiful thing about her, of course, was the expression on her face when she looked up at Dominic.
Isabel loved every music-filled, emotional moment of the ceremony. She loved the fact that her family was expanding, that she would have a brother-in-law and a niece and a nephew.
While Jamie performed a delicate rendition of “Come to Me,” Isabel stood by the podium, proudly holding her lilies and sneaking peeks at the gathering. It wasn’t hard to spot Mac, thanks to his height and broad shoulders. That wasn’t what made her go weak in the knees, though. No, that would be the fact that he was looking straight at her with an intensity she could feel clear across the room. And she couldn’t help but notice that he wore a flawlessly tailored tuxedo, and was perfectly groomed from head to toe.
Neelie, the bridesmaid to her right, leaned over and whispered, “Your boyfriend cleans up nicely.”
“He’s not—” She stopped herself. When they’d made love, the bond between them had changed from friendship and flirtation to something deeper, much deeper. Emotions she’d never felt before filled her up in places she hadn’t even known were empty. At some point, long before Mac had arrived, she had stopped expecting love to come along, and she thought she was okay with that, but he had revived a dream long since buried. The thoughtful words and beautiful music of the ceremony sharpened her yearning.
At the conclusion of the service, the mariachis burst into a zany version of “Don’t You Want Me Baby.” Dominic and Tess turned to face everyone with their arms raised like a pair of victorious prizefighters; then they practically danced down the aisle, followed by Dominic’s kids, his sister Gina and Isabel and the rest of the party.
The reception began with a blessing from Father Tom, the priest of the local Catholic church and a close family friend. His words evoked both laughter and tears, and as always, his appearance evoked stunned looks from the women present, as he had the kind of Hollywood handsomeness that stopped traffic. Then the band started up with some surprising covers of ’80s dance tunes to get everyone in the mood. Servers moved among the guests with trays of hors d’oeuvres and the signature cocktail, champagne with a honey infused liqueur and a delicate spiral twist of lemon.
The banquet was bursting with color and flavor—flower-sprinkled salads, savory chili roasted salmon, honey glazed ribs, just-harvested sweet corn, lush tomatoes and berries, artisan cheeses. Everything had been harvested within a fifty-mile radius of Bella Vista.
The cake was exactly what Tess had requested, a gorgeous tower of sweetness. Tess offered a gracious speech as she and Dominic cut the first slices. “I’ve come a long way from the city girl who subsisted on Red Bull and microwave burritos,” she said. “There’s quite a list of people to thank for that—my wonderful mother, my grandfather and my beautiful sister who created this place of celebration. Most of all, I’m grateful to Dominic.” She turned to him, offering the first piece on a yellow china plate. “You’re my heart, and there is no sweeter feeling than the love we share. Not even this cake. Wait, that might be overstating it. Everyone, be sure you taste this cake. It’s one of Isabel’s best recipes.”
In addition to emotional toasts from frien
ds and family members, there were special songs. Playing the acoustic guitar, Jamie sang “Reign of Love” with heartfelt tenderness, offering the melody like a gift floating on the breeze. Then the mariachis did a rendition of “Crazy Train” that was oddly evocative, with the blare of trumpets and unexpected vocals.
The bridal couple’s first dance took everyone’s breath away, because no one was expecting Tess and Dominic to perform a well-executed and stylish tango to “Por Una Cabeza.” But it was a later dance that brought a sigh to everyone’s lips. Magnus and Annelise danced a beautiful waltz to “Rose of My Heart.” Their old-fashioned dignity gave new meaning to the Johnny Cash lyrics. Isabel grew teary-eyed, thinking about the history the two of them shared, reaching all the way back to their childhood years in Copenhagen. The dangers and tragedies they had survived seemed to fade away as they slowly turned through the steps of the waltz, totally absorbed in one another.
Standing at the edge of the dance floor, Isabel felt Mac’s presence behind her. She was so finely tuned to him that she recognized the quality of warmth he exuded and the unique scent of him. “It’s never too late to fall in love,” he said, watching her grandfather.
“Are they in love?” she asked.
“Looks that way to me. We’ll have to see how fast she dives for the bouquet when the bride tosses it.”
She laughed at the mental image. “Right.”
“Would it bother you if the two of them....”
She turned and smiled up at him. “No. Of course not. Bubbie’s been gone a long time. I want Grandfather to be happy.”
“He’s looking happy now.”
She nodded. “I didn’t know he was such a good dancer.”
“I bet you didn’t know I’m a good dancer,” he said, cupping his hands around her waist.
“Really?”
The band started up with “The Way You Look Tonight.”
“What about your knee?” she asked.
“The knee’s fine. The knee can handle dancing with you.” He offered a formal bow and held out his hand, palm up. “Try me.”
She happily complied, and yes, he did surprise her. “You’re showing me up,” she said.
“Just let me lead, and you’ll be fine.”
“Where did you learn to dance like this?”
“With all those brothers, I’m an old hand at weddings,” he said. “Toasting, roasting and dancing are the primary duties of the groom’s brothers.”
“Good to know. And by the way, thank you for the shoes.”
“You needed dancing shoes.”
“I can’t believe you did that.”
“Me, neither. Your friends in the boutique helped.”
“Well, thank you again. Now, be quiet. I need to concentrate.” She loved the way the silk dress moved, and she loved the idea that it had once belonged to her mother. She loved the twinkling lights strung from the rafters, and the purple twilight visible through the tall open doors. She loved the couture shoes, especially the fact that Mac had gone to the trouble to get them. She loved the way she felt in his arms.
“I have to ask,” she said. “I can’t help myself. Did you dance at your own wedding?”
He stiffened; she could feel the tenseness in the muscles of his arm. “It wasn’t like that,” he said.
“Oh. Maybe someday you’ll tell me what it was like.”
“Not tonight,” he said. “I’ve got other plans for you tonight.”
She ducked her head, feeling the heat of a blush.
“You have the nicest smile,” he said softly into her ear.
“Shh. Let’s just get through this number.” But his comment only made her smile more. As promised, he was a good dancer, his lead easy to follow. She relaxed into the dance, and she even liked the attention she was getting from the other wedding guests. Most people around Archangel knew her to be a homebody, particularly cautious when it came to men, dating infrequently, selectively, and never letting anyone get too close. Certainly no one had seen her hanging out with someone like Cormac O’Neill. Or wearing a dress like the one she had on.
After more than one acquaintance gave her a not-so-secret A-okay sign, Mac asked, “Do you think they know we slept together?”
“Stop it. That’s not—”
“I bet it is. And by the way, I didn’t get a chance to tell you—that was one fantastic night.” He let his hand slip down briefly to her hips.
“Yes.” She couldn’t lie or pretend to be outraged. “I feel the same way.”
“So, tonight...”
“Mac, I don’t know.” She wasn’t sure she could go down that road, not knowing where it was leading. It was hard to trust her own judgment when it came to men. She was already falling hard. But what was the point of falling for a guy who wouldn’t be around to pick her up?
“I do know, and for the record, it was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
That startled her. He was so worldly, so...adept. Not to mention blunt as a spoon. “Let me ask you something,” she said.
“Shoot.”
“Are you extremely good in bed, or is it that we’re good together?”
“What do you think?” he countered.
Ah, that reporter’s trick. She was getting used to it. “I’m asking what you think.”
He twirled her out, then reeled her back in. “I think we’re magic together.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I think we’re magic together. He had an uncanny way of saying everything while saying nothing. She couldn’t be sure whether he meant what he said, or if he was simply telling her what he thought she wanted to hear. Either way, it worked. They stayed up dancing and drinking until the bride tossed her bouquet. It landed in Annelise’s lap, and the ensuing toasts were rowdy and full of laughter.
After a final round of drinks and farewells, Tess and her groom departed through a gauntlet of sparklers. Then Mac brought Isabel to his room and made love to her again, and it was even better than the first time, because they were getting to know each other in ways more intimate than she’d ever thought possible. She learned the ebb and flow of his pleasure and the rhythm of his breathing, the texture of his skin and the exquisite comfort of cradling her head against his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart.
Despite the emotional upheaval of her love affair with Mac, life did go on. In the aftermath of the wedding, a quiet lull settled over Bella Vista. The preparations for the cooking school were nearing completion. Tess and Dominic were off to Iceland for their honeymoon. Isabel had to force herself to focus on the project that had consumed her for the past year, the project she’d dreamed about for the past decade. Carrying on with Mac O’Neill was no excuse for neglecting things.
The cooking school was wholly her own, something no one could ever take from her. It would last as long as she wanted it to. Romance was ephemeral; she already knew Mac planned to leave soon. The dream she’d created for herself would last. It wouldn’t betray her or leave her or break her heart.
She liked being in charge. She was good at it. Like a battle commander before a major campaign, she organized a photo shoot and publicity coverage for the cooking school. MenuSonoma Magazine was due to arrive within the hour to do a cover story, and Isabel was determined to make certain Bella Vista looked and sounded as incredible as she knew it was going to be.
Filled with nervous excitement, she made her way to the teaching kitchen to get ready for the reporter and photographer. She had even hired a stylist to help her with her clothes, hair and makeup, knowing she needed plenty of help in this area.
Her phone rang, an incoming call from the magazine editor. “Hi, Leo,” she said, sounding slightly breathless. “Are Jared and Jan on their way? Do they need directions, or—”
“Um, yeah, about that...” Leo’s voice soun
ded hesitant. Apologetic.
Her hopes were already shriveling. “What’s the matter?”
“The photographer and reporter aren’t going to make it today. They’re stuck on assignment with Calvin Sharpe.”
Her heart shriveled a little. Of course Cal would be the one to disrupt her plans. Even now, she thought. Even now.
“So what’s your plan B?” she asked.
“We can reschedule the shoot, but the first available date I have for them isn’t for another five weeks.”
“How will that affect your cover story about the cooking school?”
“I’m sorry to say, we’ll miss the deadline, and the cover is spoken for until next spring.”
“So what’s going to be on the fall cover? Oh, wait, let me guess—Calvin Sharpe’s new restaurant.”
“He bought a lot of ad space,” Leo admitted. “We can still feature the cooking school—”
“Question,” she interrupted, acting on a sudden inspiration. “Have you ever heard of Cormac O’Neill?”
“Sure, everyone has. His book on Thai street food is a classic.”
She didn’t know anything about that book, but assumed that meant Leo was a fan. “Suppose Cormac O’Neill wrote the piece on the cooking school, and did the photography.”
“I’d think you were biting the heads off those little pot-infused gummi bears he mentions in that book.”
* * *
“Wow.” Summoned by an urgent text message, Mac stepped into the teaching kitchen and stared at Isabel. He felt a flush come over his body, his attraction to her an inner fire that only increased as the days passed. This feeling was new, an exhilarating ride, and he was enjoying the heck out of it.
She was wearing a new outfit, not the usual flowy stuff that hid all her assets. The fitted skirt and blouse showed off her figure in a way he found extremely distracting. “Wow in a good way. Isn’t that one of your mother’s outfits?”
“Yes, restored to its former glory. It doesn’t look too dated?”