Rosemary set Victor to work whipping an enormous bowl of lavender cream by hand while Dave and Special Agent Morgan each manned a vat of honeysuckle-infused simple syrup.
Mom and I were crystallizing flowers for the cake topper under Rosemary’s watchful eye. Dad had somehow managed to get out of doing any real work and was sitting on the counter with Parsley in his lap, a glass of red in his hand, and a bemused expression on his face, as if he wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up here. I knew the feeling.
Mom tilted her head toward Sage and Roman. “They seem happy.”
“They are,” I answered absently, trying to get a violet to dry straight and not all wrinkly for once. I snuck a look at Mom’s growing heap of flowers. They were all perfect. Then I turned my attention to my own pitiful pile. I figured Rosemary could artfully hide mine under the good ones.
“And Roman’s a good man?” she pressed.
It occurred to me that it was probably wildly disconcerting to come home and find your three daughters involved in serious relationships with three men you’d never even laid eyes on. I put down the flower and gave Mom my full attention.
“Roman is a good man. He was a history major in school, but he’s a very talented golfer. It’s in his genes, I guess. His dad’s on the PGA Tour. Sage works for the dad’s family as an attachment parenting consultant.”
Mom frowned. Dad, who was eavesdropping from his corner, said, “A who what now?”
“A nanny. But she shares parenting ideas that aren’t really mainstream. You know, co-sleeping, nonviolent communication, free-range learning. All the hippie stuff you guys did.”
My mother and father exchanged proud smiles.
“Dave, your soon-to-be son-in-law, is also a good man. He’s a Southern gentleman and a homicide detective. He’s the gentlest guy you’d ever want to meet. And he’s an animal lover.”
“Cats?” Dad asked. Parsley purred and opened one eye, awaiting my answer.
“Um, dogs, actually. He and Rosemary have a dog named Mona Lisa, and they volunteer at some shelter near Los Angeles.”
Dad nodded. Parsley hissed.
“And what about Victor?” Mom wanted to know.
“Victor’s awesome. He’s Brazilian. He came here to go to college. He put himself through school working as a driver, and then he went to J-school to—”
“J-school?”
“Journalism school. He’s a financial reporter for The New York Times.”
“And how did you two meet, pumpkin?” Dad asked.
“I used to work with his sister. She went missing, and I helped him find her.”
“Ha, and now he’s helped you find your missing sister. How symmetrical,” my mom observed.
I nodded. “Things have worked out pretty perfectly, really. Victor comes from a big, close-knit family. He’s always been sort of sad that he wouldn’t get the chance to meet you. But now he has.”
My mother smiled. “And I’m glad to be able to meet him. He asked Dad to take a walk with him tomorrow. Very Old World.”
I just nodded because I had literally zero idea what she was talking about.
Rosemary shooed Sage and Roman out of her way and opened the big wall oven, which had been preheating for some time. A blast of hot air filled the room. She and Dave carefully eased the five layers for her cake inside and gently closed the door.
Victor caught my eye and mimed rubbing his bicep. I stifled a laugh. Whipping cream by hand was muscle-burning work.
“I think that’s good, gang,” Rosemary announced. “After the cakes have baked and cooled, I’ll assemble and frost them. But the hard work’s done. Thank you. All of you.”
Just then Kay opened the door and peeked in. “Rosemary? Chelle’s here. She wants to know if she can have your dress to clean and press it for tomorrow. She understands it might be … dusty.”
“Sure.” Rosemary tossed her room key toward Kay, who snagged it out of the air one-handed. “And tell her thanks.”
Kay nodded. Then she caught sight of Special Agent Morgan. “Mr. Morgan, I’ve booked you into the Petunia Cottage, right next door to Mr. and Mrs. Simon—er, Field. Is that okay?”
“That’s perfect,” he assured her.
Even the fact that my fugitive parents were under the watchful eye of a federal agent couldn’t dampen my mood. The scene in the kitchen, as loopy and unexpected as it was, had a very familiar, comforting feeling; it felt like family.
Chapter 25
Rosemary
By rights, I should have been exhausted. I’d stayed up past one o’clock in the morning, cleaning up the kitchen and reminiscing with my parents and sisters about growing up at the resort.
Then, I’d leapt from bed at five-thirty on the dot this morning, just minutes before the Dowell’s rooster ushered in the sunrise. By seven o’clock, I’d frosted, assembled, and decorated the cakes. By eight, I’d read over my vows for the thirty billionth time, showered, and washed and dried my hair.
Now, all that was left was the waiting.
“Maybe you should take a nap?” Sage suggested.
I gave her a look. “I’m too excited to sleep.”
Thyme, who was arranging my blonde hair into a cascade of thick spirals that she piled into a high bun and secured with a glittering comb, met my eyes in the mirror. “You’ve got several hours to kill, Rosemary.”
“I know. I thought the three of us could go to the fairy garden.”
Sage threw a panicked look at my newly cleaned gown and the two spotless strapless dresses she and Thyme would be wearing. (One light purple, one light green).
“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “We can go before we change. Please? It’ll be fun.”
“I’m game,” Thyme said with a little shrug of her shoulders.
“Why not,” Sage agreed.
So the three of us slipped out through the French doors that had caused me so much grief just yesterday and wound our way along the path that followed a hill down behind the back of the house. The fairy garden wasn’t the sort you sometimes see on manicured lawns, with whimsical, glittery stone houses and darling terra cotta decorations. Our fairy garden was an overgrown jumble of wildflowers surrounding an old tree stump with a hole in it.
We’d discovered it when I was six or seven. We were absolutely convinced fairies used the tree stump as a portal to commute between our world and theirs. We used to pack up a lunch and spend hours sitting cross-legged in the patch of flowers just waiting for a fairy sighting and spinning stories about the fairies. Every once in a while, we’d find some berries or an acorn a bird had dropped and decide that the fairies had left them there as a message for us.
Standing there now, I felt like that little girl with perpetually scraped elbows and knees and two braids bumping against my shoulders and not like a fully grown woman who ran two businesses and was about to make a commitment to the man who shared her life.
I glanced over at my sisters. Thyme was humming under her breath. I recognized the tune; it was a song we’d made up for the fairies. Sage was crouched beside the tree stump, peering into the hole as if she’d resumed our decades-old vigil.
“I wanted to tell you both something about Mom and Dad,” I said.
Thyme stopped humming, and Sage stood up slowly. They watched me, waiting for me to elaborate, so I did.
“Yesterday, while we were trapped in that storage unit, we had a lot of time to talk. And they told me they’d saved several thousand dollars. You know those two, they weren’t exactly sure how much. But they said they wanted to give it to us so we could reinvest it in the resort.”
Sage frowned. “It’s a lot of money, for sure. I know because I saw it in the cottage when Roman and I were searching for clues about what happened to you. There was a giant stack of cash in Dad’s underwear drawer.”
Of course there was. That sounded just like our father.
“We shouldn’t take it, though. They need to use that to pay off their other debts. I mean, right?�
� Thyme interjected.
“I think they will,” Sage agreed. “I spoke briefly to Special Agent Morgan about the possibility of a settlement with the government. Besides, I think it gets messy if we take their money for the resort.”
“Me, too. So I told them no. This place belongs to the three of us now. And it’s finally becoming something other than a weight around our necks. But I was thinking we could offer them jobs helping us manage things. They could live here and work with Kay, so we wouldn’t have to make so many trips back to check on things. How do you two feel about that?”
Thyme answered first. “I think it’s a great idea, so long as they aren’t handling the finances in any way.”
“I think they’ve finally realized that’s not their strong suit, but I agree. Kay would remain in charge of the accounts, but they could help with reservations, maintenance, guests’ requests—that sort of thing,” I said.
Sage looked first at me and then at Thyme. “Does this mean you two are ready to forgive them? Can we be a family again?” Her eyes were shining.
“I hope so,” I said. “It’s what I want.”
“So do I,” Thyme chimed in. “You were right, Sage. We do need to forgive them and move forward.”
She grinned at us. “It took you two long enough to come around.” Then she had a thought. “Do you want them to walk you down the aisle instead of us?”
I shook my head, making the curls bounce wildly. “No. You two are walking with me; you’ve earned that. I have an idea, though.”
At precisely four o’clock, I stood under the elm tree in my magically fresh, clean, and pressed wedding gown, clutching a bouquet of flowers that had just been picked from the garden and tied off with a silk ribbon. My left arm was linked through Sage’s and my right was linked through Thyme’s, just as we’d rehearsed. But now, Sage’s left arm was linked through our mother’s arm, and Thyme’s right was linked through our father’s.
We’d rearranged the chairs to make a much wider aisle and had convinced Marie to switch out the processional music. As she pluck the first cords of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” on her harp, the five us stepped in unison onto the petal-strewn path that would lead me to my future with Dave.
Chelle and Kay were both already crying when our unwieldy human chain passed their seats. Special Agent Morgan gave us a thumbs up from his spot between Roman and Victor. And my Aunt Ruby was blowing her nose into Uncle Joe’s handkerchief, sounding like a loud, angry goose.
We reached the gazebo and Thyme and Sage released my arms and each fell back a step. Mom and Dad came around and kissed me on the cheek before taking their seats.
Dave stood alone under the canopy of blooms and fairy lights. His familiar smile and the expectant gleam in his eyes almost undid me right there, and I was afraid I’d end up doing a honking duet with Aunt Ruby. Then he winked at me, and my heart melted.
I reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly while Reverend Mark greeted our friends and families. The ceremony was a blur. I tried to concentrate on what Mark was saying, and the meanings of the readings my sisters had chosen to mark the occasion, but it was impossible to focus.
I’m marrying Dave. I’m marrying Dave.
The sentence spooled around and around in my mind. My heart seemed to beat in time with its cadence.
I’m marrying Dave. I’m marrying Dave.
And then, through the haze of my emotion, I heard Mark saying it was time to recite our vows and exchange our rings.
A few minutes later, Dave was covering my mouth for a quick kiss full of promise and love. And just like that, I was his wife. He was my husband. We were married. We were family.
Chapter 26
Sage
I flitted around the reception tent, making sure all the details were perfect. And they were.
People were eating, drinking, and dancing under the twinkling lights. A cluster of Dave’s cousins’ children gathered around the S’mores bar, squealing with sugar-induced glee. Reverend Mark, who had a fierce sweet tooth, had graciously volunteered to supervise the toasting of the marshmallows over a table of Bunsen burners Rosemary had borrowed from the high school’s science department.
The mason jars filled with wildflowers picked up the light from the globes strung above the tables. The mismatched, vintage china in several faded patterns looked fabulous against the simple white tablecloths. I was pretty darn impressed. Thyme had done a great job.
Speaking of Thyme, where was she? I scanned the tent and spotted her. She and Victor were twirling around the dance floor like their names were Fred and Ginger. Meanwhile, Rosemary and Dave were weaving their way through the tables, hand in hand, stopping to chat with everyone and to show off their wedding rings.
The only thing missing was my date.
Roman seemed to have disappeared. I searched the tent carefully but saw no sign of him. After a moment, I realized my parents and Special Agent Morgan were also nowhere to be seen.
I suppressed a groan. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since Rosemary had vanished. Surely the family wasn’t due for another abduction already?
I popped a small round of toasted bread smeared with roasted fig jam into my mouth to distract myself from that line of thought and plucked a flute of champagne from a silver tray.
I was sipping it and chatting with Chelle, when I spotted Roman headed toward the tent. He was coming up the walking path from the meditation garden. And he wasn’t alone. My parents were with him, and Special Agent Morgan trailed behind them.
I excused myself from the conversation with Chelle and raced over to him.
“Is everything okay?” I asked anxiously as soon as I reached him. The last thing Rosemary and Dave needed at their reception was more parental drama.
He gave me a puzzled look. “Everything’s fine,” he squeaked in a strangely high, tight voice. He coughed and cleared his throat.
My mother tittered. Dad pulled her away from us and hurried over to join Aunt Ruby and Uncle Joe at their table.
I watched them walk away then turned back to Roman. “What were you and my parents doing?”
“Just chatting. Oh, look, scallops!”
He darted toward the caterer who was circulating with the tray of scallops as though she were handing out PGA tour cards on a first come, first served basis.
I trotted after him. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” I demanded.
He swallowed his scallop and caught me in his arms. “I’m positive,” he breathed near my ear.
His mouth tickled my ear and I shivered. Roman pressed closer.
“In fact,” he continued, “everything is perfect.” He swooped down and kissed the hollow of my throat. “You’re perfect. Now, may I have this dance?”
I had a strong suspicion I was being distracted, but I was happy to be distracted. So I let him lead me out onto the dance floor. As we moved in time to the music, his weird behavior faded from my mind. I rested my head on his shoulder and allowed myself to relax into his arms.
Chapter 27
Thyme
Victor rubbed my sore feet. I leaned back against the headboard of the bed and gave a contented sigh as his strong fingers worked my tired muscles.
“Thank you,” I breathed. “That was the most fun I’ve ever had at a wedding, but I think I did too much dancing.”
Victor popped up from the floor in mock outrage. “Too much dancing? In Brazil, we don’t even have a phrase for too much dancing!”
I giggled. “Wouldn’t that be … muita dança?”
I’d been trying to learn Portuguese so I could talk to his extended family when we visited them in the fall. Let’s just say my rusty Spanish wasn’t much help in my endeavor.
He beamed at me like a proud teacher. “Lots of dancing is probably the closer translation, but I give you an A for effort.” He leaned in and kissed me.
My foreign language lessons came with lots of perks. Mainly kisses. And the occasional foot massage. Accordingly, I was a hi
ghly motivated student.
“Oh, did you talk to my parents?” I asked.
Once Victor had learned Mr. and Mrs. Simon, the bird lovers, were really my mom and dad, he’d insisted he had to talk to them about our upcoming trip to Brazil. I told him it was unnecessary, but he’d refused to be swayed. I thought it was adorably archaic of him to make sure my parents approved of our trip. I just needed to make sure he didn’t make a habit of asking for their approval. I was, after all, an adult.
“I did. I had to get in line, but I did get their blessing for the trip.”
“What do you mean, you had to get in line?” I asked.
“Roman beat me to it. He got the first audience with them tonight,” he explained.
Audience? Forget Portuguese, I was starting to wonder if I understood English.
“My dad’s not the Pope—and my mom’s not the Queen. Why would Roman need an audience with them?”
“What?” Victor said.
“What do you mean, what?”
“I didn’t hear what you said.”
Even though I was pretty sure he knew exactly what I’d just said, I started to repeat myself. But he eased me back onto the bed and stopped my mouth with a kiss. And then another. And yet another.
“What did Roman need to talk to my parents about?” I asked, trying again.
But by now his lips had moved to my neck, and I was rapidly losing interest in the conversation. I cradled his head in my hands, weaving my fingers through his thick, dark hair, and promptly forgot all about audiences—papal, royal, and especially parental.
Chapter 28
Rosemary — Monday
The resort was quiet. After three days of celebration and joyful chaos, the silence and stillness were both welcome and disconcerting. Sage and Roman and Thyme and Victor had stuck around to say goodbye to our parents after all the guests had cleared out. But even they had left last night. They all had to get back to work.
Lost and Gowned Page 11