by Lucy Hepburn
“Would you? I seem to have discovered that I am not very skilled in this art.”
“It’s easy—I can just get on with it if you like.”
His grateful look told her that yes, he very much did like.
She crossed over to the wheelbarrow and began sifting through the freshly-cut flowers and greenery. “They smell gorgeous.”
Francesco had already filled half a dozen vases with water, and so Molly set about arranging the blooms.
“When are you going to tell Caitlin?”
Francesco was ripping the packing tape off the top of a case of champagne. “I have had a number of conversations with Pascal, and he is, hopefully as we speak, distracting the ladies so that he might pack their wedding things and organize a taxi to take them here.”
“Oh no!” Molly realized. “My dress is at the hotel!”
“Pascal reminded me that this might be the case. He will take care of it also.”
“Phew,” Molly exclaimed. “Otherwise I’d have to run myself up something to wear from one of these tablecloths!”
“You look perfect, Molly,” Francesco smiled, and he said it with such sincerity that she almost believed him.
“Oh, sure I do! So, does that mean Pascal will tell Caitlin about the wedding?”
“I hope not, though if he feels he must then of course I cannot object. He is going to try and tell them that he has organized a trip into the mountains to enjoy some fresh, clean air. Caitlin told me that she was just going to have a quiet day with her mother. She said she would not think about rearranging the wedding until her condition was stabilized. And if she still feels that way when she gets here, we can just have a quiet family day.”
A family day. Molly knew that, from now on, that her family was going to be very lucky to include Francesco Marino in it.
They worked in silence for a while, Molly choosing and matching flowers and foliage, Francesco arranging chairs and straightening cutlery and glasses with touching concentration and attention to detail.
“You sounded like you knew Pascal back then—have you two met before?” Molly asked by way of conversation.
“No, Caitlin has been quite secretive about the dress arrangements. But I feel like I know him. Caitlin told me as much as she could about him before I called the airport.”
“How do you mean, the airport?”
He put down a handful of teaspoons and looked at her, puzzled by her puzzlement. “At Sion? When he…had that problem with the police? I spoke to the guards when they were holding him after his panic attack on the plane.”
Molly’s jaw hit the floor. “You?” She had been certain it was Delametri. But since she’d met him, that was becoming less and less likely.
He shrugged, embarrassed. “Yes. I thought you knew.”
“You got him released?” Molly slapped her forehead. “It never crossed my mind it might be you…I thought it was someone else.” She couldn’t bring herself to say Delametri’s name out loud. She had been such a fool.
“It was good to be able to do something to help the family,” he said simply.
Molly was astounded. Just how many more preconceptions were going to be blown apart today? Yet still, she found herself wondering just how much Francesco had to pay to sort the situation out. And she felt she had probably got to know him well enough to be able to ask. “Was it…very expensive?”
He frowned. “How do you mean?”
“Getting him out?”
“You think I bribed them?” he spluttered. “Molly! What sort of a man do you think I am?”
Molly saw immediately that she’d made a terrible mistake. “I’m sorry…I just assumed…” Visions of Goodfellas and The Godfather dashed from her mind.
He shook his head. “No, it’s all right. I am afraid my so-called ‘celebrity’ probably had a lot to do with his release. I merely spoke to the police chief and asked him politely if he might consider letting Pascal continue on his way so that he could assist at my wedding. I told him that Pascal was a very nice man, and well, I may have suggested that if he let Pascal go, then he would be out of Switzerland and therefore no longer Switzerland’s problem.”
He spoke kindly and calmly to them, that was all. After dealing with the insanity of Molly and Pascal it was probably a huge relief for the poor security guards. “I feel terrible,” Molly mumbled. “I really did get you all wrong. I’m sorry.”
“Forget it,” he smiled. “We understand each other now.”
“Yes,” Molly smiled, though her cheeks were still burning, “I think we do.”
They worked on in companionable silence until finally the wheelbarrow was empty, the vases full, the champagne chilling, the tables set perfectly, and the groom exhausted.
“Thank you,” he said, kissing Molly’s hand. “I think it looks good—the flowers are spectacular. You have an artist’s eye.”
“Why, thank you,” Molly replied. “I suppose it’s not a million miles away from fashion design, really. But it is rather lovely,” Molly agreed. “Be nice for Caitlin to see something I’ve done well—she usually associates my name with disaster.”
“Caitlin?” He gave her a puzzled look. “She is very proud of you.”
Molly spluttered. “Yeah, right!”
“She is! She has told me many times that you are the creative one and that your designs are spectacular! Honest!”
Molly wondered what spin Caitlin had been putting on their relationship. “So…well…why did she?” She thought better of saying anything. “Oh never mind.”
“No, go on,” Francesco urged.
“Why didn’t she let me design her dress, then? I’m sorry, Francesco, but I’m afraid I was a little hurt.”
Francesco sat down on one of the dining chairs and looked up at her. “My fault, I’m afraid.”
Molly felt confused.
“Well…my fault for being born to my dear mama. Caitlin said at the beginning that she would ask you to design her dress…”
Molly was thunderstruck. Could that be true? “Did she?”
“My mother spoke to her. She persuaded her that it was essential to have a…prestige wedding dress…” he broke off to shake his head at his own words. “I know that sounds bad, but my mother insisted that such a high-profile dress ought to be designed by somebody with a proven track record.” He sighed. “I think my mother didn’t want to let me down. The decision was nothing to do with me, as it was about the dress. But I was annoyed with Mama for getting involved. I did speak to her about it when I found out.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “She’s nervous, Molly. My family does not come from wealthy beginnings. Mama felt the world should see her daughter-in-law wearing a dress by a famous designer.”
“Ah.” This was making more sense.
“She gets all of her fashion information from the magazines at her hairdressers, from talking with her friends, talking with her fortune teller, from reality television. They know all of the big names, and she has seen so many so-called ‘celebrity’ weddings.”
“It’s okay, I get it,” Molly said, though it didn’t sound much like Caitlin.
“Caitlin is very sweet to my mother. This wedding is a very big deal for my whole family; I think my mother just wants everything to be perfect, you know?”
Molly nodded. Mothers could be interfering at the best of times. That was their role in life.
“But Caitlin did put her foot down when my mother tried to insist that the dress should be made by Chanel.”
Molly recoiled. “Why would anyone do that?” Molly asked. “Chanel for heaven’s sake!”
“Is it not obvious?”
“No, actually.”
“Why, because she knew that Delametri Chevalier was your favorite designer!”
Molly’s mouth dropped open.
“Of course. Did you not do your university paper on his work?”
Molly was shocked that C
aitlin had remembered this detail and even more shocked that she’d told Francesco about it. She groaned and nodded. “More fool me! But yes, I do love…the Chevalier line.”
“That is why Caitlin insisted she went to Chevalier; she trusts your opinion.”
Molly shook her head. “Well, it’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
Francesco smiled at her. “Siblings, huh?”
“Do you have any?”
He nodded. “Ciara. She lives in Milano. Her little baby, Mia, is the most beautiful child I have ever seen.”
“And have you told her that’s what you think?” Molly was smiling.
He nudged her. “Not nearly enough.”
Molly was twisting a stray ivy leaf to destruction between her fingers. “I was hurt when she didn’t ask me to be involved. I felt she was beginning a process of removing herself from my life.”
“No, never that,” Francesco said. “I am certain of it.”
“And I didn’t know you—I let myself form opinions based on stupid, superficial stuff.”
“You did so because you care for Caitlin,” he said softly. “It is good to be cautious, is it not? We haven’t been together for all that long, and I am afraid I never found a moment to fly to Yorkshire to meet you.”
“Now that would have been strange!” Molly grinned. “I can’t imagine you in my little flat!”
“Why not?” He looked closely at her.
“Because…you are rich and famous. And my flat is ordinary. My town is ordinary.”
Francesco chuckled. “Maybe so. But the Wright women are anything but ordinary.”
“Is it your TV experience that’s taught you to say the right thing every time?” she teased, before realizing her words could be taken as a sideswipe at his reputation. “Sorry…I mean…”
“It’s okay!” He shrugged. “I see a lot of Caitlin in you.”
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.” She could feel herself blushing.
“And so you should.” He looked at his watch. “Do you mind if I go and change? There is a room for you upstairs where you can change when Pascal brings your dress…though as I said, you look perfectly lovely…”
“In my grubby jeans? Thanks, Francesco, but I think you can stop now.”
He smiled. “Your key is at reception with your name on it.” He made to leave, then turned. “Molly?”
“Yes?”
“If Pascal has not already told her, would you please explain everything when she arrives? I do not think my nerves could stand it.”
“Me?” Molly was horrified. “Francesco, don’t give me that amount of responsibility! She’s my big sister!”
“And she loves you,” Francesco reminded her. “Who better to hear it from?”
He bounded off toward the stairs. Molly was in turmoil. No way did she want to be the one to tell Caitlin of Francesco’s wedding plans—what if Caitlin didn’t like them? She’d always associate Molly as some sort of accomplice, a traitor even!
She sighed. Why was life so complicated? And why the hell hadn’t Simon called her back?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Molly set off to explore the gardens to pass the time before Caitlin, her mother, and Pascal arrived. Despite feeling mentally and physically exhausted after the events of the past three days, her steps felt lighter than they had for years.
Caitlin didn’t see her as a clumsy waste of space after all! She always pictured Caitlin rolling her eyes when she thought about or spoke of her little sister. Molly, the klutz…
But the nicest thing of all had been getting to know Francesco. What a lovely guy! She couldn’t ever imagine Reggie being so open and friendly with Caitlin, sharing his feelings like that. She smiled. Caitlin had found a wonderful man.
And he’s a millionaire! she thought with a wry smile.
Inside, she could see the chef fussing over baskets of bread on a side table in the dining room. On the other side of the main entrance, a cozy yet elegant drawing room had been cleared and set with chairs for the ceremony. Molly bit her lip. What if Caitlin hated the idea? What if the day’s delay had given her cold feet about the whole thing?
Then she’s an idiot. She smiled and turned back toward the house.
But just then she heard the sound of a car engine. She looked down the driveway. A taxi was approaching with four people inside.
Molly’s insides flipped. They were here!
She sprinted across the lawn to the entrance, waving and grinning furiously at her astonished mother and sister.
“Thought you were at the shops?” Caitlin called out as she clambered out of the taxi.
Behind her, Molly caught Pascal’s eye. Pascal winked.
“Nope.”
She helped her mother out of the car. She seemed frail and tired. “I was just wondering whether to worry about you,” she said.
“Mum, you just concentrate on yourself, please. Are you okay?”
Pascal leaned in the driver’s window and muttered something to the taxi driver who nodded and took out his newspaper.
Caitlin gestured toward the hotel. “Lovely place,” she said, “but—and I don’t want to be annoying or anything—what the hell are you doing at it?”
Molly thought her head might explode with anticipation, but she held off for another moment.
“It is nice, isn’t it?”
Caitlin had walked up to the doorway and was closely examining the soft pink stucco walls, the trailing plants, the terracotta urns, the soft lighting… “I’d like to stay in a place like this one day,” she breathed. “If only Francesco could see it. Maybe I’ll let him know and we could come sometime.”
Molly erupted with joy. “He’s here, Caitlin.”
Caitlin responded with a withering look. “Francesco’s in Venice, Molly, letting down wedding guests and probably talking to newspapers. The rumor mill will be going crazy already—I wonder who they’re saying dumped who at the altar? Huh, bet they’ve got their knives out for the gold-digging English girl.” She sighed and folded her arms.
Molly went up to her and laid her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “Francesco’s here, Caitlin. He’s inside.”
Caitlin looked sideways at her, her face full of suspicion. And then a flicker of hope in her eyes.
“He’s…here?”
Molly nodded. “He traveled up last night. Caitlin?”
“Yes?” her sister whispered.
“He’s moved the wedding.”
“Wh…what?”
“You can marry him here. Today!” Molly was getting excited herself now. “I mean, if you like.”
“Molly, cut it out.” Caitlin’s voice was stern. “That’s not even remotely funny.”
“Oh, come on, Caitlin!” Moly felt a wave of crossness that Caitlin’s first reaction was that she hadn’t been serious. “Do you think I’d joke about something like this?”
“Yes,” Caitlin shot back, but then as she looked into Molly’s eyes, followed up with: “No?”
“Course I’m not joking, sweetheart.” Her heart went out to her sister; she could tell Caitlin hardly dared hope that this was happening.
She pulled her into a hug then drew back, but kept her hands on Caitlin’s shoulders. “Listen, you. Francesco’s been working flat out for you to try and pull this off.”
“Francesco’s here?” her mother exclaimed. “How lovely! Did you hear that, Pascal?”
“I am afraid I knew already,” he admitted. “I will tell you everything later.”
Caitlin’s eyes were full of tears. She whipped round and looked at her mother whose face was wreathed in smiles. “We can get married here? Today?”
“It looks like it, darling,” her mother replied.
Pascal had pulled a blue spotted handkerchief from his jacket pocket and was dabbing his eyes. Molly’s mother sank down onto the wrought-iron garden seat by the doorway, still smiling, more broadly than ever.
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“Oh! Mum!” Caitlin fell upon her mother in a huge embrace, then, pulling away, she caught Molly’s hand.
“Thank you, Molly, for all you’ve done.”
“Hey, what are little sisters for?” Molly grinned. Then, on second thought, she added, “Don’t answer that.”
Giggling, she went over to stand beside Pascal. “Thank you,” she whispered, clutching his arm.
“My pleasure,” Pascal replied.
Caitlin suddenly clapped her hands over her mouth. “My…my dress! It’s back at the other hotel!” She looked from Molly to Pascal and then to her mother. Then she spread her arms and looked down at the clothes she was wearing: a white cotton skirt and pale yellow cashmere halter top. “Oh, well, some things are never meant to run to plan, are they? I can just stick some of these gorgeous flowers in my hair and get married in this, can’t I?”
Pascal thrust his hands on his hips. “Over my dead body!” he cried. “Get married in that, when your beautiful wedding gown is in the back of the taxi over there?”
Caitlin gasped. “You haven’t…. It isn’t… it never is!”
“I am afraid I was a little devious this morning,” Pascal said sheepishly. “I managed to kidnap the wedding outfits for all three of you!”
“You!” Molly’s mother pointed at Pascal and laughed. “You said you wanted my room key to check to see if the walls were as thin as they were in your room!”
Pascal’s face was a mask of innocence. “I did that also. And yes, they were every bit as thin! But, maybe that is not all I did…”
Her mother had twigged. “Well I joy well hope you got the right outfit,” she scolded, “because I brought two!”
“Trust me, I brought everything,” Pascal twinkled, “even your toothbrush!”
“My dress is in there?” Caitlin gasped, pointing at the taxi as though it was an alien life form.
Pascal nodded.
“Oooh!” Caitlin’s squeal of excitement was so high-pitched that the others had to cover their ears. “I have to see it! Show me now!” She was jumping up and down like a child—Molly felt a pang of nostalgia. Caitlin had been such a free-spirited child… she hadn’t seen her jump up and down like that for, probably, fifteen years.