EPILOGUE
Senator Harlan Nash and his wife had insisted on having Sophie and Riley’s wedding at their Mississippi estate, and Sophie, God love her, Yank thought, had agreed.
What the hell would have been wrong with the Plaza or another of the old New York City hotels? Yank wondered. He was paying for the shindig anyway. At least he thought he was. Between all the arguing going on, he could never be sure.
Annabelle and Micki had made gorgeous matrons of honor while Lizzie had been the only bridesmaid, and the cute kid had reveled in the attention. As she’d walked down the aisle, she’d waved to everyone like the Queen of England. With her spunk and attitude, she actually reminded him a little of Micki as a kid, he thought, grinning.
Then Yank had walked Sophie down the aisle—without his cane, he thought proudly. He didn’t need a walking stick when he had a dog as smart as Noodle. Never mind that she’d sniffed something and taken off for the other side of the bushes, wedding rings hooked into her collar. A waitress had retrieved them, crawling out of the greenery with leaves poking from her head in time for the I do’s.
The best part of the day had come when Spencer had walked his son halfway down the aisle. The senator had taken over midway. It seemed like a fair compromise to all involved. Everybody had ignored the protestors out back. Harlan had announced his intention to let the voters have their say come November and if retirement was in his future, he had plenty of other pursuits, he’d said. Yank hadn’t a clue what those were, but the man seemed resigned to Spencer’s orientation and place in Riley’s life. Nothing else mattered as far as Yank was concerned.
Now he stood in the backyard, the party tapering down. Many of the senator’s Southern guests had taken leave, as they called it, which was just fine with Yank. The women and their umbrellas and finery, the old men and their fine talk. He’d been like a goddamn fish out of water, is what he’d been. Even with his friends here—like Curly and, of course, Spencer—Yank had kept getting nudged in the ribs by Lola. Minding his manners and his p’s and q’s wasn’t his way. Never had been.
The only good thing was that Spencer’s fruitcake sisters had behaved worse than Yank ever had. Rose and Darla had both dived for the bridal bouquet, pushing the younger women out of the way, ending up fighting each other smack dab in the middle of the dance floor. In the end, they’d split the bouquet in half, though Yank couldn’t see what kind of man would have either of the nut jobs. He had to admit Spencer’s niece, Amy, seemed nice enough, but she had her hands full keeping her mother and aunt in line.
The day was almost over and Yank shook his head in disbelief. He’d raised and married off all three of his girls. Hell, he’d even gone and gotten married himself. How the heck had that happened? he wondered.
Well, at least he still had his Cubans, he thought, patting his breast pocket. He’d hand the suckers out when Lola’s back was turned. The woman had eyes like a hawk.
God how he loved her.
“What are you thinking about?” Lola asked, coming up beside him and linking her arm through his.
“Just admiring my handiwork.”
She looked up at him, confused. “What handiwork?”
“Well, the girls and their men, of course!” He pointed to their family gathered beneath the large white tent.
“The girls all found themselves perfect mates, which as far as I can see, had nothing whatsoever to do with you.” Lola patted his shoulder. “But you tell yourself whatever makes you happy, honey.”
Now he knew she was goading him on purpose. Probably because she liked kissing and making up so much. “Now, Lola, give me due credit. I was the one who made sure Annabelle went up to Greenlawn to work on Vaughn’s resort PR, wasn’t I?”
“You were,” she agreed. “You were also the one who showed up unannounced, stayed and drove them insane.”
“Surveying the lay of the land, so to speak. Checkin’ up on them.”
Lola frowned. “You were running away from me and you know it. Annabelle and Vaughn found their way to each other on their own, no thanks to you.”
“I sent him after her,” he insisted. “Now take Micki and Damian. Who arranged it so Micki had to be the one to go on down to Florida to handle the Renegades’ publicity?”
Lola nodded. “You did. Where she was set up and ended up in a strip joint. Admit it, Micki and Damian had some real issues standing between them. That they came together is a credit to them, not you.”
Yank groaned at her stubbornness. He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off.
“And before you go saying you’re responsible for Sophie and Riley being together, that had everything to do with Spencer running off to Florida and nothing to do with you.”
The woman wouldn’t give him credit for a dang thing.
“But there is something you get one-hundred-percent credit for,” she said, her voice softening as she leaned in close.
He inhaled, enjoying having her near. He might not be able to see her so well, but he knew every last thing about her and that was all that mattered.
“Is that a new perfume you’re wearing?” he asked, enjoying the sexy scent.
“Why yes, it is,” she said, her voice rising with pleasure.
He nodded with satisfaction. Women liked it if a man noticed the little things, he’d learned. It had only taken him almost thirty years to get that through his thick skull, not that he’d admit what a slow learner he was to Lola.
Besides, tonight his attentiveness might get him some action with his loving wife.
“Now pay attention,” Lola chided. “Don’t you want to know what I’m giving you credit for?” she asked.
“Yes, yes, I certainly do.”
“You raised three absolutely wonderful young women. Caring, kind, smart, strong, beautiful and, most importantly, brave.” Lola lovingly caressed his cheek with her soft hand.
His stomach flipped like a kid’s at Christmas. Instead of her impact on him diluting since they’d been married, it had only grown stronger. Her approval meant so much to him, but he no longer let it scare him. Instead he accepted it as the way things were.
“Go on,” he said gruffly.
She laughed. “You need more compliments? Seriously, Yank. You raised them to be strong and independent. They may have had issues from losing their parents, but all three were brave enough to overcome them in the end and go after what they wanted. It’s a credit to you.”
“She’s right, Uncle Yank,” Sophie said, joining them.
“She’s always right,” Micki said.
“Always has been,” Annabelle added.
His whole family surrounded him. Could he get any luckier than he’d been in his life? Yes, yes, he could, Yank thought, an idea coming to him and he laughed aloud.
“What’s so funny?” Sophie asked.
Yank smiled. “I’m just wonderin’, where are all your men at?”
“Why?” all three sisters asked warily, as if they didn’t trust him.
“Because I wanted to ask ’em when you’re all gonna give me a bunch of grandchildren to bounce on my knee. Now that my hip is working better, and all.”
Sophie groaned. “I’m out of here,” she said, blowing him a kiss as she made her way across the grass.
“Ditto,” Micki said. “I love you, but you’ve got to find yourself a hobby.” She took off, too, leaving him with Lola and Annabelle.
“Don’t you even look my way, Uncle Yank. I’ve done my duty,” Annabelle said and she, too, disappeared.
He shook his head. “Now what’d I do to make ’em run off that way?”
Nobody answered. “Lola?”
“I’m gone,” she called, her voice sounding distant.
He hadn’t even realized she’d taken off along with the girls.
Yank laughed and glanced up, letting the sun warm his face the way all his women warmed him. They might grouse and complain at his meddling ways, but he just knew he’d have grandchildren on the way from each of them by year’s end.
Family, he thought, grinning like a fool. A lucky man like him didn’t need one single thing more.