“Of course, now give me the biggest hug you’ve ever given me. I need it.”
Wrapping Helen into her, Martha whispered, “You’re going to do great. He’s passed the ‘Martha inspection’ and I even stuck a little sticker on his butt that only the purchaser gets to remove.”
“Oh my God!” Helen said pulling back as they both broke into snarky laughter.
“Not God, just Piers,” Martha said, looking cheeky. “Now, go get him and remember about that bouquet toss.”
Soon, the ladies and gentlemen were in attendance as a golden June sun watched a smiling Helen walk down the wedding path to her waiting, beaming groom. Healy’s gardens breathed a happy sigh as she married her darling, Piers. The whole of Marsden-Lacey’s population, Helen’s family and Piers’ young son Emerson, were in full attendance as the couple kissed and vowed to love and cherish one another “till death do us part”.
As the rings, brought to them by the ring-bearer, Emerson, were slipped onto each finger, Piers turned his bride around to the audience.
“Friends! Family! It is my heart’s greatest pleasure to introduce to you my dearest wife and treasure, Mrs. Helen Cousins!”
Cheers went up as they shared a kiss, and well wishers called out both noble and not-so-noble blessings upon the couple. In all, good humor and wonderful company made the day bright, joyful and full of love.
As the time came to toss the bouquet, Helen held it high, readying it for the throw. Females, both young and old laughed and crowded together in cheerful competition to take their chances at grabbing the bridal promise.
With a great over-handed fling, the beautiful arrangement of white roses, fragrant gardenias and tiny blue freesia flowers made their arch and fell. Arms stretched upward to gain the advantage as voices cried merrily to a higher grace, to let them be the fated winner.
“I’ve got it!” one woman called. And as the lighthearted crowd separated, there stood Polly Johns beaming brightly and holding the bouquet like a trophy above her head for all to see. The crowd cheered and slapped Mr. O’Grady, Polly’s beau, on the shoulder, wishing him all the best. Some even said, he was going to need it.
“You know,” Martha said sidling up next to Polly, who appeared pleased with herself, but upon Martha’s approach moved the bouquet to the safer side of her body. “I had my hand on that before it was wrenched from my grasp.”
Martha showed her the one mangled white rose she still clasped.
Polly, indifferent to Martha’s mock annoyance, said good-naturedly, “Better luck next time. Gotta bring your A-game, Littleword, if you want to play with the big girls.”
“Is that code for ‘scrappy cheaters’?” Martha came back.
“Why don’t you take that rose of yours and go show it to Merriam? I’m sure he’ll get the idea. In fact, I wouldn’t mind you for a daughter-in-law. Merriam needs someone like you to keep him on his toes,” Polly said, as she and Martha moved through the festive merry-makers, and ended up at the reception tent’s bar. “For myself, I’ve grown rather fond, you know, of Mr. O’Grady. Maybe he and I should tie the knot.”
Polly looked at Martha, and with a knowing smile, took one of the gardenias from the fold of many and handed it to her as a peace offering. Turning around to face the crowd in the tent, they watched Helen and Piers move out alone onto the dance floor. The band began to play “Fly Me To The Moon” and soon, other dancers began to fill the floor. Martha watched as Merriam chatted with Donna, one of his constables and Adam, Healy’s security manager, began to dance extremely well with Helen’s daughter, Christine.
“I love a wedding, don’t you?” Polly asked as the bartender asked if they would like a drink. She turned to Martha and added. “We could make it a double?”
Martha watched Merriam move toward her through the crowd as she considered Polly’s idea then the bartender handed them their champagne. The two women clinked the glasses together and toasted the happy couple.
“I appreciate your offer, and thank you,” she said to Polly, “but I think upon reflection I’m happy with the way it is for now. Perhaps in the future, when the time is right.”
The two turned, sipping from their fluted glasses, and went their separate ways in good spirits. After all, it was a time to dance, a time to laugh with good friends, and a time to enjoy all the true blessings under heaven.
Chapter 51
A Last Word
Le Mans, France
Weather in France in mid-June is delectable, and for two happy weeks, Helen and Piers had done nothing but cruise the Loire Valley canals on a self-catering river barge eating, playing and falling more deeply in love.
The only agreed upon goals were to stop at every village along the way to sample the fabulous food, drink the wines and take in the local points of interest. So far, they’d hot-air ballooned over majestic chateaux, dined in tiny outdoor bistros under the stars, and laughed themselves almost sick at their many mistakes trying to handle their old, grumpy Pénichette barge, named Edith.
Today’s outing was to travel to watch the finish of the great Le Mans sports car race. Piers had managed to get them VIP passes to the pit crew areas, where the drivers made their changes. As the cars came into the bay area, the crowd lining the barriers and packed into the stands cheered and threw themselves into joyous exaltations trying to encourage their favorite teams.
Helen, holding desperately on to her hat with one hand and Piers with the other, tried to strain her neck to get a glimpse of each beautifully designed car as it crossed in front of her line of vision.
“Do you know any of the drivers?” she yelled, trying to get her voice over the tumultuous, delighted roar of the spectators.
“Not personally,” he called back. “Come on. Follow me!”
He tugged on her arm to go with him deeper into the mix of people that were leaning over the barriers to watch, as each succeeding car roared past. A red Ferrari whipped into the bay area in front of them and a tall, dark-haired man slid out of the car and slung off his helmet.
“Look!” Piers yelled. “Isn’t that…”
“Alistair?” Helen finished his sentence. “That’s Alistair!”
They both watched as Alistair slapped another man on the back who was already sporting a helmet, but Helen saw from the height and slimness of the new driver’s physique that it almost had to be Perigrine Clark. In less than five seconds, the Ferrari screamed out of the area and back onto the track.
Helen and Piers, surprised beyond belief, both shook their heads and laughed.
“You know, I believe we’ve seen behind Oz’s curtain, Helen,” he said into her ear. “Our secret?”
“My lips are sealed,” she said, grinning brilliantly and pretending to zip them with her finger.
Piers grabbed her, making her laugh. “Come here!” he said, tenderly removing her finger from her lips. “Those lips are better being kissed than sealed.”
“You are mine, Mrs. Cousins, and I love you!”
And as the crowd cheered, and champagne sprayed into the air, Piers pulled Helen into him and kissed her. Love and goodness had won after all.
Thank you for reading!!
Death Drinks Darjeeling (A Helen and Martha Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 22