Epilogue
“This itches,” I complained. “And I can’t see.”
“It’s a veil,” Mia said with exasperation. “It’s not supposed to be comfortable.”
The lace got in my mouth and I blew air, spitting it out. “It’s really irritating.”
“Too bad.” Mia was implacable. “And stop licking your lips. Your lipstick is going to come off.”
Okay, so I’d heard of bridezillas. But what did you call the niece of the bride who was cracking the whip on a smoky eye, nude lipstick, and an updo that was crafted so beautifully—and hairsprayed so heavily—that I was afraid to stand too near an open flame?
“Honey, have a mint julep.”
I’d lost track of how many mint juleps Grams had drunk, but this time, I accepted her offer. Twenty minutes until showtime.
I took a swig of the amber liquid, and promptly coughed for ten straight seconds.
“Grams! Now her eyes are watering! I have to redo her makeup.” Mia’s indignant outburst was followed by a removal of the hated veil and a careful reapplication of some kind of makeup on my eyes that involved no less than three different brushes.
The veil was reapplied and fussed with until Mia was satisfied.
“Okay! You can look now.”
I got up from the chair, once again grateful that I’d held the line on not wearing heels. Instead, I had a white pair of Converses that Mia had glammed up with lace and glitter. I thought they’d look ridiculous when she’d told me what she was going to do, but instead they’d turned out rather pretty.
I held my breath as I walked to the full-length mirror, hoping Mia’s magic had worked to transform me into a beautiful bride. When I saw my reflection, my breath came out in a rush.
“Wow,” I breathed.
I looked . . . perfect. My dark hair was a stark contrast to the white of my dress and veil. The dress itself was simple. Sleeveless with a sweetheart neckline, it showed my shoulders, arms, and a classy amount of cleavage. I was suddenly glad that Mia had insisted on taking me tanning for the past two weeks (despite my quoting statistics to her about the correlation between skin cancer and tanning beds).
The dress was formfitting satin with tiny jewels nestled among the folds of fabric wrapped around me, so when the light hit, I sparkled. An attached train of yards of delicate lace stretched behind me, matching my veil. In my hair, Mia had woven more jewels similar to the ones on my gown. The dog tags I wore that were hidden inside my neckline didn’t exactly go with the dress, but no one had said a word about my taking them off.
“Oh, honey,” Grams said with a teary smile, “you look just beautiful.”
“That’s not the mint juleps talking, is it?” I teased.
She laughed. “Your man is going to be speechless.” She sidled a bit closer. “Now I know you’re probably nervous about tonight. I just want you to remember that the first time may twinge a bit, and depending on his size, it may look like he isn’t gonna fit. But I can assure you—”
“Stop!” Mia and I spoke at the same time.
“Um, I’m good, Grams,” I said, my cheeks burning. “You know, there’s books and . . . stuff.” Now wasn’t the time to tell her that the white dress was due to custom rather than a testament to the state of my hymen.
“I just want you to be prepared,” she said. “On my wedding night, your granddad ended up chasing me around the room with that thing because I was positive that it couldn’t be done.” She winked at me. “Your granddad was generously endowed, you know.”
“Nope. No. Didn’t know that. Didn’t need to either, Grams.”
“I’m just saying, I was a lucky woman.”
Mia was choking back her laughter at my dismay. She was no help at all.
“And don’t even think of letting him anywhere near the back door. One time—”
“Where’s Bonnie?” I blurted out, desperate to stop Grams’s reminiscing.
There was a knock on the door. Mia opened it a crack and peered through—she’d been adamant about the groom not seeing the bride—and opened it enough for Bonnie to slip inside.
She saw me and squealed. “Oh my God, you look amazing!”
“Thank you, but get dressed! The wedding is in ten minutes!” She was my bridesmaid, Mia my maid of honor. Mia was already wearing her gown, a dress similar in style to mine, but with a skirt ending below the knee. Her color was scarlet. Bonnie’s was a deep blue. Each color suited them the best.
Grams was walking me down the aisle, and she wore a champagne-colored skirt and blouse with a matching jacket. The jacket had fancy embroidery that she said her friend Marjorie had added to “jazz it up.”
“I’m hurrying,” Bonnie said. “I had to check on the hors d’oeuvres. I’m not sure those chicken kebabs were a good idea.”
I winced. Bonnie had insisted on catering the reception, despite her lack of experience and, well, culinary skill. Jackson had agreed, but had quietly hired other chefs disguised as waitstaff and kitchen help to fix whatever Bonnie messed up. Of course, she didn’t know this, and I wasn’t about to tell her. Instead, I pasted on my smile.
“I’m sure they’ll be great.”
Another knock on the door, and this time it was the wedding planner, though it was difficult to see him past the massive arrangement of white roses he was carrying.
“A delivery for the bride,” he said.
Grams and Mia managed between the two of them to set the arrangement on a table. I counted the roses. Two dozen.
“Here’s the card,” Mia said.
I opened it and read.
One for every year I’ve missed.
I’m sorry I can’t make the wedding, but I’ll be in touch. Maybe we can meet sometime. If you’d want that.
—Mark
Danvers. He’d survived. They’d searched the wreckage when they were finally able to get to it, but it had been in a heavily wooded area. There wasn’t a body, but it had been assumed that wildlife had taken care of that. But they’d been wrong. Somehow, in the middle of nowhere, he’d made it out.
I smiled. Yes. Yes, I’d like to get to know my father, would like to know the man my mom had loved so much.
Ten minutes later, we were all as ready as we were going to be. Bonnie and Mia helped with my train as we walked down the narrow hallway of the tiny chapel the wedding planner had found in Upstate New York. The church only held fifty people, but that was okay. Not many were invited to the actual wedding. Those “five hundred closest friends” would be at the reception we were having later tonight.
I could hear the pianist playing behind the closed vestibule doors, and I took a deep breath.
“Grams,” Mia said sharply. She motioned to the glass Grams was still carrying.
“Oh yes,” she said. Glancing around, Grams emptied the rest of her mint julep into a nearby potted plant. “There we go. Here, honey.” She handed the glass to the wedding planner, who must’ve seen it all, because he took it without batting an eye.
“Good luck,” Bonnie said. “You’re beautiful.” She kissed me lightly on the cheek. The planner handed her a bouquet and sent her down the aisle, carefully keeping me out of sight.
Mia was next. “I love you, Aunt Chi,” she whispered.
“I love you, too.” I hugged her, even though the planner started fussing over my train.
Her eyes misted. “Don’t make me cry! I’ll look like a raccoon.” She received her flowers, and down the aisle she went.
Grams looked at me. “You sure about this, honey? With all that money you got now, we can turn around and skip town if you want. Head to Vegas. We could be hitting the slot machines by dinner.”
“Grams, you know the odds of winning at slots are—”
“I do know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like pressing those buttons.”
I grinned. “Yes, Grams. I’m sure. Jackson’s the one.”
It had been a whirlwind two months, but the October wedding was perfect. Today was a beautifully crisp fall day, and the trees surrounding the tiny chapel were all shades of gold, red, and orange. The white church nestled among them looked like something from a Thomas Kincaid painting. And my husband-to-be was waiting for me at the altar.
The planner smiled as he handed me my bouquet. “It’s time.”
I took Gram’s arm and a deep breath, then nodded.
He opened the doors, and I saw the rows filled with people. Anxiety suddenly hit as they all stood, everyone staring at me. I froze.
Then, like a beacon, there was Jackson. He stood in the center at the end of the aisle, and the look on his face was one I could only describe as adoration. Everyone else melted away, and my anxiety, too. I smiled. He smiled back. And I took my first step.
They threw the traditional rice for us as we left the chapel, though we got into a nontraditional helicopter. Chartered limousines would take the guests to the reception, but Jackson had said he wanted to give me my wedding gift first.
“But I didn’t get you anything,” I’d said. “I didn’t realize it was customary for the bride and groom to exchange gifts.” None of the books or magazines I’d read had mentioned this.
“It’s kind of for both of us,” he’d said, then had refused to discuss it further.
Now I watched out the window, trying to figure out where in the world we were going. Everything looked so much different from up here. It wasn’t until the pilot had set us down on an expansive lawn that I realized where we were.
“Why are we stopping to see Harrison Cummings?” I asked as he helped me down from the chopper. The last time we’d been here, I’d thrown up in the guest bathroom.
“I wanted to give you your present,” he said, taking my hand and leading me across the lawn.
I still didn’t understand, not until we stood on the front step of the massive Tudor mansion and he dangled a set of keys in front of me. My eyes widened.
“Really?”
He nodded, grinning. “You said it was your dream home, right?”
“Yes, but . . . how?”
“I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse,” he said, mimicking The Godfather. “All the furniture, too. Though we can always redecorate, if you want.”
“No! I love it just the way it is.”
“Then unlock the door so I can carry you across the threshold, Mrs. Cooper.”
And that’s just what we did.