by Anne Canadeo
He smiled and stood up as she walked into the room. “Hi, honey. I was waiting for you.” Lucy walked into his open arms and they shared a tight hug and a kiss. “How was your weekend. Did you have fun?”
“We did, actually. It was a beautiful setting, right on the ocean. We did a lot of fun stuff. Though there was something going on in the community that was distracting, to say the least. I’ll tell you about it later,” she added. Lucy held on to him, her hands looped around his waist as she leaned back. “It was great to hang with my gal pals. But I’m happy to be home with you.”
“I missed you, too. It got a little lonely around here with just my dog friends. They don’t talk much and they never have dinner ready for me.”
Lucy laughed. “Is that the only reason you missed me? No one to cook your dinner?”
Matt stared back at her, wide-eyed and apologetic. “You know I didn’t mean that. I missed you for other reasons, too. My bride-to-be . . .”
He pulled her close and kissed her deeply. Lucy didn’t have any more questions.
* * *
Lucy woke up Tuesday morning in a panic. “Only five days left. I have so much to do.” She and Matt weren’t even out of bed.
“I think we’re in pretty good shape. What’s left? I can help you.”
“Mostly phone calls, confirming things, the flowers and cake and all that. My mother is coming on Thursday, remember?”
“I do. Is she staying here?” Matt was up and headed for the shower.
“I wanted her to, but she insisted on staying at The Lord Charles,” Lucy said, mentioning the inn on the village green in town where the ceremony and reception would be held. “She said it will be convenient for her, and she thinks we need some privacy before the big day and doesn’t want to intrude.”
“That’s considerate of her.”
“Yes, it is.” Her mother was very considerate that way. “But I’m glad she’ll be around, helping the last few days. I still have to clean the house and plan a special dinner. And I have one more fitting for the gown. Suzanne says I need special, heavy-duty undergarments. Body smoothers, she calls them. Which sound more like body armor to me. She said I really should get some. But I hate to feel like toothpaste squeezed into a tube all day.”
“You’ll look absolutely beautiful, no matter what you do. Don’t worry so much.”
Lucy was trying not to, but it was hard. She’d been the coolest, calmest bride in history for weeks. But reality and her to-do list had suddenly hit her like a meteor from outer space.
The dogs came into the bedroom, eager to be let out. Tink found one of Lucy’s slippers and waved it around. Her special signal that the situation required urgent attention. Lucy took the slipper from Tink’s mouth and slipped it on, then located the other one. “I still don’t have anything for Tink and Wally to wear when they walk down the aisle. Maybe some bows and flowers on their collars?”
“No worries. I got that covered. A catalog came to the office, and I ordered them each a wedding outfit. Wally has a tux and tie, and Tink has a flower garland and a pink satin dog dress.”
Lucy stared at him in surprise. Tons of catalogs for pet care came to Matt’s veterinary office. But she never expected he’d take the initiative and complete this task for her.
“That’s great, honey. Sounds adorable.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll check that off my list.” She felt a bit more upbeat as she left the room, the dogs scampering ahead and racing down the stairs. “One down, a thousand and one to go.”
* * *
The knitting group usually met on Thursdays, but they moved this week’s meeting up to Wednesday night, since Lucy’s mother was coming, and they all had things to do before the big day.
They met in Maggie’s shop, and, as usual, Lucy was the last to arrive. She had made a tasty dish for their dinner— penne pasta with fresh tomatoes, zucchini, basil, and mozzarella. She parked in front of the shop and carried the large casserole of pasta on a tray, surprised to see her friends gathered on the porch, waiting for her.
“What’s up? Are we sitting outside tonight?” It was a warm night, and they sometimes sat outside on the shop’s wrap-around porch in the summer.
“We were waiting for you. We’re going to launch Maggie’s new sign,” Suzanne shouted back.
Lucy paused on the walkway and looked up. She hadn’t even noticed, but the shop’s sign had been changed. It had always read THE BLACK SHEEP KNITTING SHOP. But now it said BLACK SHEEP & COMPANY in bold block letters. And below that, in finer print: FINE YARNS, FIBER ARTS, AND MORE.
“Black Sheep and Company! I love it,” Lucy replied. She climbed up to the porch and set the tray down. “I guess Phoebe is the ‘and company’?”
“Exactly. I’m also the fiber arts,” Phoebe added proudly.
“That she is . . . and more,” Maggie replied, making a small pun. “Suzanne insisted on champagne. Though we’re not going to break the bottle over the sign, as if it were a ship’s bow.”
“We’re not? I thought that would be the fun part.” Suzanne sounded disappointed.
“For one thing, you’d need a ladder, and it would waste a perfectly good bottle of champagne.” Maggie shrugged, setting out champagne glasses on a small wicker table.
“All right. If you say so. But I did bring two bottles.” Suzanne was busy unwrapping the foil covering and easing up the cork.
“We’ll save one for Lucy’s wedding,” Dana suggested.
“Good idea!” Suzanne hopped down the steps and stood on a patch of grass in front of the shop. “Can I at least aim the cork at the sign, just for luck?”
“All right, if you insist. I hope you’re a good shot. Duck everyone,” Maggie added quietly.
“I’m a crack shot. No worries.” Suzanne pushed the cork up with her fingers. “Three, two, one . . . happy new sign!”
The cork sailed out of the bottle with a loud pop, along with a spray of foam. They all heard it hit the sign, a bull’s-eye as Suzanne had promised. And then, as everyone cheered, they heard a small thump.
Maggie ran out to the lawn to see what had happened. “Oh dear. It loosened a bolt or something.”
Lucy and her friends followed. They stared up at the sign, which now hung at a slight angle.
Suzanne wore a sheepish expression. “Sorry, Mag. I’ll call a handyman tomorrow and have it fixed for you.”
Maggie looked peeved for a moment and then laughed. “That was strong champagne. I guess it’s very lucky. Come on, everyone. Let’s have a glass and a toast.”
They were soon all lifting their glasses as Suzanne proposed a toast. “To Maggie and Phoebe, and a new era of the Black Sheep Knitting Shop. To its continued success and artistry. It just keeps getting bigger and better.”
“Here, here.” Lucy took a sip from her glass; the bubbles tickled her nose.
“Well said, Suzanne. And here’s to the Black Sheep Knitters, the best knitting group and best friends anyone could ask for,” Dana said.
“I’ll drink to that,” Maggie said happily. “This shop wouldn’t be the same without all of you. I don’t know what I’d do.”
They finished their champagne and brought their meeting inside, to the back room of the shop. The food Lucy had brought was still warm, and she placed the casserole dish on the oak buffet.
“What did you make for dinner, Lucy? It’s smells yummy.” Phoebe placed a basket with a crusty loaf of bread next to a bowl of green salad.
“A pasta dish with vegetables. I think we ought to eat before starting to knit, everyone. It could get messy.”
Maggie had set up the dishes and silverware, and everyone helped themselves to dinner.
“Hmm, this is delicious,” Maggie said after a bite or two.
“It’s pretty easy to make. I got the zucchini at the farm stand on the Beach Road, and the tomatoes and basil are from our garden.”
“You and Matt are so cute. I just love the idea of you two, working together out in a vegeta
ble garden. Like two rabbits in a picture book. How cute is that?” Phoebe said.
Lucy had never felt like a rabbit in a picture book, getting down and dirty with the weeds, worms, and tangled vegetable vines. But she knew what Phoebe meant.
“A garden is a lot of work. But I read a new study that found there’s some bacteria in the soil that gardeners inhale. It wards off depression and even causes sort of a gardener’s high,” Dana said.
“Interesting.” Lucy forked up another bite. “Matt and I do feel good after we work together outside. Especially if I cook something tasty for dinner with the vegetables. You can also add shrimp or even lobster to this dish, to bump it up a notch for company.”
“I like it just fine, as is.” Suzanne wiped a bit of tomato from her mouth. “Speaking of lobster, you just reminded me of Maine. I heard from Amy today. There’s a footnote to the Julian Morton murder case.”
Maggie tore a slice of bread in half and took a bite. “I was wondering how it all spun out. I assume Meredith confessed to the police.”
“Right after we left,” Suzanne reported. “The police even followed through on that green yarn tip you sent, Lucy. They matched it to the yarn in Meredith’s possession, from her summer shawl project, as we suspected they would. It turns out Lewis did not have any time to spare between leaving the hospital and returning to Osprey Shores. Certainly not enough time to hide his car some distance from Osprey Shores, walk up the path, and murder Dr. Morton. Security cameras at the hospital garage and the record at the Osprey Shores gate confirmed his alibi.”
Dana, who loved any dish with vegetables, helped herself to more pasta. “So she wasn’t taking the blame for Lewis,” Dana said. “She actually did it.”
“The police think so. Lewis was released, and Meredith was charged, but she’s out on bail right now. Everyone says she’s too sick to stand trial. I believe her attorney is pursuing that line of defense.”
“Is she out of the hospital?” Lucy asked.
Suzanne sighed and put her dish aside. “Yes, they sent her home. But she’s lost a lot of ground. Her disease is advancing. Amy said Lewis moved her into his cottage, so he could take care of her. Amy heard that her doctors don’t give her much more time.”
“How sad.” Lucy also put her empty dish aside.
“It is sad,” Maggie agreed. “But at least she won’t live out her last days in a jail cell. She and Lewis can spend whatever time is left together. That has to be some comfort.”
“Cold comfort. But something,” Suzanne said. “Oh . . . and get this. Tanya has now officially inherited her husband’s intellectual property, the mysterious, hidden invention. Lewis gave the police the memory stick with the final plans. Amy heard she’s already sold it to a big biotech firm.”
“She’s a very rich woman after all. That was her main goal,” Maggie observed. “At least someone’s happy.”
“She is. Rich and happy,” Suzanne agreed. “But here’s the surprising part. Tanya is trying to make amends for Julian’s misdeeds. She’s given Cory a fair share of his father’s estate and is also taking care of all of Meredith’s medical costs.”
Lucy was surprised, but pleased by that news, and the way it overturned everyone’s expectations of the crafty beauty.
“She always reminded me of an evil mermaid,” Phoebe admitted. “But I guess the gorgeous, scheming, ex-lingerie model has a heart after all.”
“Seems so. Though Amy says Tanya has other motives besides pure largess. Tanya told Helen Shelburn she’s doing it as a way to get back at her husband, who was such a miser and turned his back on Meredith and Cory. She hopes Julian is watching his money being given away and turning over in his grave.”
“Whatever Tanya’s twisted motives, the end result is kindness and benevolence. I’m sure Cory and Meredith never expected it,” Lucy said.
Maggie nodded. “I agree. But a lot of unexpected things happen on Osprey Island. The place seems so picturesque and serene. Meanwhile, there’s a lot going on below the surface,” she observed. “Why don’t we clear the dishes away and start our knitting? I have a new pattern to show you.”
“Great. I can use a new project.” Dana scooped up the salad plates and some utensils. Suzanne and Phoebe had already brought the dinner dishes to the storeroom, which doubled as a fully-equipped kitchen.
“Are you going to bring your knitting on your honeymoon, Lucy?” Phoebe said as she returned.
Lucy nearly dropped the salad bowl. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
Suzanne was right behind Phoebe and started laughing. “Good one, Phoebe. Who’s going to knit on their honeymoon? For goodness’ sake. She and Matt have better things to do. I’d be worried if she brought her knitting.”
“Good point, Suzanne.” Maggie glanced at Lucy.
Lucy didn’t answer, feeling her cheeks flush. She hated when she blushed, but she couldn’t help it. Head down, she headed into the storeroom, hearing her friends giggling behind her.
* * *
The next day, Lucy was happy to see her mother, who drove in from North Hampton and arrived around lunchtime. A professor of anthropology at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, Isabel Binger had a way of bringing calm and order to most any situation. Lucy felt relieved just seeing her mother’s battered green Volvo wagon pull up in the driveway.
Her parents had divorced when Lucy was in high school. Now her father lived in Florida with his second wife. Both her father and Lucy’s stepmother enjoyed golf, very dry martinis, and watching CNN most of the evening. Her father was coming in on Friday night, right before the wedding, and also staying at the Lord Charles. Which was just as well, Lucy thought, since it was stressful for her to juggle her father, her mother, and her stepmother, even though they all seemed to get along just fine. In public, at least.
Lucy’s older sister, Ellen, was the maid of honor, and Matt had asked his brother to be his best man. Lucy’s two nieces were junior bridesmaids. And then there were Tink and Wally, sure to steal the show when her nieces led them down the aisle.
Lucy wished she could have asked her best friends to be in the bridal party, but that just wasn’t practical, and they understood. She knew her best buddies would be walking down the aisle in spirit with her, definitely cheering her on, and probably even weeping a little in their front-row seats.
She and Matt had tried their best to keep the wedding simple and fun. But they had still invited nearly a hundred guests and booked a large reception room at the inn and a six-piece band.
A justice of the peace would perform the ceremony in the lovely garden behind the inn, if the weather held up. Lucy had always wanted to be married in a garden, under a trestle of flowers. She and Matt had written their own vows, though Lucy hadn’t actually finished hers—another item on her list. She was more of a visual person, but hoped that something poetic and heartfelt would come to her once she sat down and concentrated.
“All right, let’s just focus on what you have left to do, Lucy,” her mother said as they finished their lunch at the bakery café in town. “Do you have a list with you?”
“I do, Mom.” Lucy pulled a battered notebook from her large handbag. “It’s not so bad . . . I hope. Forty-eight hours and counting.”
Her mother looked over Lucy’s scrawled notes, even the cross outs and extra bits jotted in the margins. “Not so bad. Don’t worry. We’ll get this done with time to spare.”
Lucy smiled with relief. “You think so?”
Her mother laughed. “A wedding is like Christmas, honey. If you can’t finish every bit of trimming, most people won’t even notice. Let’s focus on the most important items first. Your dress fitting. Guess we’ll skip dessert.”
Lucy sighed. She’d been so good, just ordering a salad. Dessert was the best part of coming here. “I guess so,” she agreed, taking a last sip of iced tea.
* * *
With her mother at the helm of the to-do list, the next two days passed in a blur. Lucy soon found herself sit
ting beside her father in the back of a black limousine that pulled up to the front of the Lord Charles Inn. He wore a tuxedo, the stark white shirt contrasting sharply with his golfer’s tan and greying dark hair. He pulled at his burgundy bow tie a bit, then patted her hand.
“You got a perfect day for a wedding. That’s good luck. Are you nervous, honey?”
“A little,” Lucy admitted.
“Don’t worry. Nothing to it. We’ll just stroll up the aisle, and everyone will be gaga about how beautiful you look. Then you’ll say your vows, kiss Matt, and the rest of it will be easy as pie. Try to enjoy yourself, Lucy. It will go by too fast. That’s my advice. For your wedding day and the rest of your life with Matt,” he added in an unusually somber tone.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll remember,” she promised.
Her father kissed her cheek, then helped her from the car and led her toward the inn, where she was immediately swarmed by her mother, sister, and nieces. The dogs, dressed in their wedding attire, looked too adorable to be believed.
Her mother smoothed Lucy’s veil down over her face as they approached the back of the garden. Lucy felt like the queen of the bee keepers in her long dress and veil, but she was still glad she had chosen a traditional, but simple, gown. She saw Matt up at the top of the aisle, waiting with his best man beside the trellis of flowers.
The garden was cool, lush, and green. The wedding guests were festively dressed, looking excited and happy. A musical trio played a piece by Bach on a cello, flute, and violin. The flower arrangements—cream-colored roses, white hydrangea, and lilies—looked abundant, elegant, and just right. The whole scene was just as Lucy had pictured it, and she felt as if she had stepped into a lovely dream.
But when the opening notes of the “Wedding March” sounded, and her father tucked her arm into his, she felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. It was no dream.
“That’s our cue. Showtime, honey,” her fathered murmured.