Authors: Mariah Stewart
Jesse thought of his mother, his sister, and what he was beginning to feel for Brooke. Even his grandfather, whom he was just getting to know, and knew the answer. “No, Pop. That’s not me.”
“I didn’t believe for a second that it was. And I don’t believe that you haven’t fallen in love because you can’t. I think it’s because you haven’t met the right girl yet. When you do, when you feel that zing to your heart, you’ll know it, and you’ll do the right thing.” Curtis released his seat belt and opened the car door. He swung his legs out and looked back over
his shoulder. “But I suggest you move that all along. You aren’t getting any younger, you know …”
Curtis stood in the doorway and watched his grandson drive away, his heart beating with thanks for the gift he’d been given in Jesse. He closed the door and locked it, took off his overcoat and hung it in the closet, tucked his gloves inside his hat, and left them on the console in the hall. He went into the living room and turned on a lamp, sat in his favorite chair, and picked up the book he’d been reading that afternoon. The crime novel by his favorite author had been delivered from the online bookstore he’d ordered it from—God, but he loved technology!—and he was almost to the end. It bothered him that so far, he’d been unable to identify the killer. In the old days, he’d always known before he got to the middle of the book who the bad guy was. These days, not so much.
He tried to read but his thoughts kept wandering back to dinner and all he and Jesse had talked about. Family relationships. Love. Commitment. Parents and children. Husbands and wives. He’d never been one to talk about such things at such length with anyone but Rose, and it surprised him that he found it so easy to talk to Jesse, whom he’d barely even thought about a year ago. At first he’d thought that it might have been because he spent so much time alone now, that any opportunity to converse had the potential to turn into a discussion, but he knew that wasn’t the case. He used to see his son Mike every day at the office, and they’d rarely had such conversations, had almost never discussed their feelings. Perhaps it was because this younger generation of men was more
open about sharing how they felt about things. Curtis preferred to believe it was because he and this grandson had a connection.
He picked up the current issue of the
St. Dennis Gazette
that he’d been looking at earlier, and gazed at the picture on the front page. The camera had caught the beautiful young woman and the handsome young man in a waltz’s embrace, smiling and gazing into each other’s eyes.
Curtis knew that look. He and his Rose had looked at each other in the same way, their smiles only for the other, their eyes never seeing anyone else.
“What do you think, Rose?” he said aloud.
He waited to hear the rustle of that silken robe she liked so much, to smell the scent of gardenias that always accompanied her. Would she come tonight? He sat quietly, the book unopened on his lap, longing for her presence for just a little while. Sometimes he felt her here, sometimes in the conservatory on the side of the house, where she’d once tended her orchids and her gloxinia and those big leafy things she’d loved, some of which had, over time, grown taller than she, who’d been such a tiny thing.
Perhaps she waited for him there tonight as she had in the past. He started to rise, then tilted his head slightly to one side.
“Rose?”
He felt her glide into the room on the whisper of silk. He could not see her—he’d never seen her after she passed—but he could sense her as surely as he had when she was still alive. Funny, he thought, that he, who had never believed in ghosts or spirits or any of what he’d once considered nonsense, now looked
forward every waking moment to experiencing just such a presence.
“Funny how it all works out, isn’t it, my love?”
He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the scent of gardenias surround him and fill the room.
“I spent the evening with our boy, Rose. He’s a good boy. A good man. You’d like him.” He considered for a moment. “Actually, I believe you’d love him. I see so much of myself in him, and nothing of Craig. Funny how sometimes things seem to skip a generation, isn’t it?”
Behind him, he heard the faint
shush
of her robe.
“I want him to stay, Rose.” He sighed. “I want so very much for him to stay …”
“I’m assuming that by now, you’ve both seen the photos of the bridesmaid dresses Steffie and I picked out while we were in New York.” Dallas opened her bag and pulled out a photo and held it up. “Just in case you haven’t …”
“Ooooh, nice.” Vanessa nodded enthusiastically.
“I agree,” Brooke said. “I love it.”
“Good, ’cause the bride—or in this case, the
brides
—get to choose and you have to wear it.” Steffie placed a dish of ice cream in front of each of her friends. She’d closed Scoop at eight on Sunday night so the four of them—she, Dallas, Brooke, and Vanessa—could meet to go over the wedding plans and try out her newest flavors at the same time.
“Lucky for us you have good taste. I’ve heard some real horror stories about ugly bridesmaid dresses.” Brooke dug with the plastic spoon Steffie handed her. “This is really delicious, Stef. What are we calling this?”
“This is Honeymoon Heaven.” Steffie grinned. “Just all sweetness and love.”
“And coconut, I see,” Brooked noted. “What’s that other flavor I’m tasting?”
“White chocolate chips and honey.” Steffie joined them at the table. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s heavenly,” Brooke said.
“I agree.” Dallas nodded.
“Ness?” Steffie asked. “Did you taste it? What do you think?”
“Oh. I think it’s lovely, Stef,” Vanessa replied.
“Great. It’s unanimous, then. We’re serving it at the wedding along with a wedding cake that’s yet to be determined and some of Brooke’s fantastic ‘White Wedding’ cupcakes.” Steffie licked her spoon.
“Speaking of ice-cream flavors … Stef, is there any chance you could make up something special for Mr. Enright?” Brooke asked.
“When did you start calling Jesse ‘Mr. Enright’?” Stef asked.
“Not Jesse. Old Mr. Enright. Curtis,” Brooke explained. “He’s going to be eighty-five in two weeks and Jesse wants to surprise him with a party, and we—that is, Jesse—thought it would be fun to have an ice cream made for him. Of course, we’ll—that is, Jesse will understand if you don’t have time, with the wedding coming up so soon and everything.”
“Oh, I love old Mr. Enright! He’s such a sweet old man,” Stef said. “I’d love to do something special for him. Let me think, what would be appropriate …?”
Brooke shook her head. “I don’t know what he likes. I’ll have to ask Jesse.”
“I guess it didn’t occur to you to ask him last night.” Stef smiled and scooped some ice cream onto her spoon. “Or this morning.”
Brooke flushed scarlet.
“What’s that mean?” Vanessa turned to Brooke. “Are you dating the barrister?”
“I’d say dating is the least of what she’s doing.” Stef elbowed Brooke.
“Okay, so how do you know about last night?” Brooke stuck her spoon into the mound of ice cream and left it there.
“Brooke.” Steffie rolled her eyes. “This is St. Dennis. Your car was parked in his driveway last night when Wade and I came back from Berry’s after dinner, and it was there again when we went jogging this morning.”
“Seriously? You and Jesse Enright?” Dallas wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“All right. Seriously. Yes. Me and Jesse Enright.” Still blushing, Brooke dug into her ice cream.
“Wow. Not bad, Brooke.” Vanessa nodded her approval. “Not bad at all.”
“He
is
pretty hunky,” Stef acknowledged.
“And smart,” Dallas added. “We had a long conversation one night about entertainment law. I’m thinking about hiring him to handle some work for me personally and for my studio as I get things finalized.”
“I love a smart hunky guy,” Stef said.
“You’re marrying my little brother,” Dallas reminded her.
“Wade’s smart and hunky,” Stef said defensively. “He’s also hot.”
“If you say so.”
“You’re his sister, Dallas. I would hope you didn’t
find him hot.” Steffie stood up. “Anyone want something to drink? Milk shake? Root-beer float? Iced tea? Water?”
“I’ll have water, thanks,” Vanessa said.
“I’m good,” both Dallas and Brooke replied.
“Speaking of hunky guys …” Dallas turned to Brooke. “Who was the cutie you were with at Logan’s game on Saturday morning?”
“That was Eric’s brother, Jason. He paid a surprise visit. To see Logan. He’s sticking around for a few days to spend some time with him and go to a few games. Logan is Jace’s only nephew, so he just wants to spend a few days getting to know him a little better.”
Steffie returned to the room.
“So what else do we need to know about your wedding plans?” Brooke asked.
“That was a slick attempt to change the subject.” Stef handed Vanessa the requested bottle of water. “However slick it may have been, it’s been rejected. We’re not done grilling you about you and Jesse.” She looked around the table. “Anyone feel they’ve heard enough?”
Dallas and Vanessa both shook their heads.
“There you have it. It’s unanimous. So spill.” Steffie sat and waited. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not even sure
I
know what’s going on,” Brooke admitted. “I went over to his office the other night and we were going over the changes I wanted in my will, and the next thing I knew, I was on his lap and … I don’t know, something just came over me and—”
“It’s called ‘lust,’ ” Dallas told her. “You’ve been alone a long, long time, girl.”
“I guess.” Brooke nodded. “But it wasn’t just that. There’s something about him that I really like. Something about him that makes me …”
“Hot?” Stef suggested.
“No. I mean yes, but no, something more than physical.” Brooke thought for a moment, then said softly, “When I’m with Jesse, I don’t hurt anymore.”
“Awww, honey.” Stef got up and put her arm around Brooke. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s a first,” Vanessa quipped.
“Sounds like this could be serious.” Dallas leaned both arms on the table.
“It might be. I’m almost afraid that it could be. When you’ve loved someone and they’re taken from you, the way Eric was taken, you don’t ever want to be that vulnerable again. You don’t want to ever be in a position to feel that kind of pain again. At least, that’s how I felt. But there’s something about this guy …”
“Sounds to me like you’re starting to fall for him,” Vanessa said.
“I think maybe I already have.”
“How does Jesse feel about you?” Dallas asked. “Do you know?”
Brooke nodded. “I’m pretty sure he feels the same way. He’s up-front about things. If this were a fling, I think he’d say so. I think he’d be honest about that.”
“No one ‘flings’ with the Halloween queen in my town,” Stef told her. “Bring him to the wedding and we’ll all observe.”
“That should make for a fun night for all, with everyone watching my every move. Besides,” Brooke
added, “you’re going to be too busy being The Bride to be worried about what I’m doing.”
“Don’t kid yourself. My capacity for such things is boundless.” Steffie gathered the dishes, all of which were empty except for Vanessa’s. “Okay, so what didn’t you like about it, Ness?”
“What?” Vanessa looked down at the bowl where the ice cream had melted into a creamy soup. “Oh. I guess I’m still full from dinner. Sorry, Stef.”
“It’s okay. You can taste-test later, if you like. Or tomorrow.” Steffie removed the bowls and disposed of them in the trash behind the counter. “Now, since we have so many fun things to celebrate, I think I’ll open that bottle of wine I picked up yesterday.”
She went into the back room and returned with a bottle and four plastic cups. “I’m glad you and Vanessa like the dresses we picked out, Brooke. We thought they’d go nicely with the overall color scheme, which is basically white. Although Dallas’s dress is really silver, but a darker shade than yours.”
“Because I’ve been married before,” Dallas reminded them. “I didn’t want to wear white. I do have an eight-year-old son.”
“I think those old rules are being stretched all the time,” Brooke told her. “I think any bride should wear whatever color or whatever dress she wants to wear.”
“I agree.” Dallas nodded. “And this dark silver is exactly what I wanted. It’s all sequin-y and sparkly and I love it. It’s just what I had in mind.”
“It’s spectacular and Dallas looks like … well, she looks just like a big Hollywood movie star in it,” Steffie told the others.
“It is almost over-the-top,” Dallas agreed, “but stops short of ‘is she kidding.’ ”
“Anyway, I’m wearing white.” Steffie put the bottle on the table. “I cannot believe that I am going to be wearing a gown designed by Teresa Kearney.”
“Me either. Never in a million years did I ever think I’d have something of hers. Even the knockoffs are beyond my reach,” Brooke said. “It was very cool of her to offer complimentary gowns for the attendants.”
“She’s going to be getting a gazillion dollars’ worth of free publicity from doing Dallas’s dress. She
should
do something special for the wedding party.” Steffie opened the wine. “Anyway, for Dallas’s wedding, we’re wearing the silver dresses and carrying white bouquets that will be dusted with silver glitter. For my wedding, you all and Dallas—who will wear her silver wedding dress—will wear wide satin sashes.”
“What color?” Brooke asked.
Steffie grinned. “The MacGregor tartan. On the sash and wrapped around the bouquets, which for me will be white and red. No glitter. Oh, and I found shoes that are made in the tartan plaid. I’ll need your shoe size so I can order those, everyone. And that reminds me, I’m going to have to have Grant call his former wife and make sure that Paige can come to St. Dennis to have her dress fitted. Not that the child would mind. She’d rather be here with her father than in Ohio with her mother.”
Dallas took a small notebook from her bag and started to write. “Paige will need two pairs of shoes, then, since she’s in both ceremonies. I’ll get her size
for you, Stef, so that you can order a pair of the plaid ones for her.” She looked up at her soon-to-be sister-in-law. “Do they have flats?”