Chapter Fourteen
Andi looked from one beautiful face to the next, that feeling of being pulled into the vortex of a rogue wave of Kilcannons threatening again. But it was different this evening, up here on the third floor that was probably designed as an attic but had been revamped into a small suite for Gramma Finnie.
The ceilings were low, not that it mattered for the tiny woman. The décor was vintage chic with a distinctively genuine feel to it. The windows were covered with lace, the hardwood floors with braided rugs and a few dog beds. The only thing that wasn’t classic grandmother’s cottage was the corner desk that held an open laptop, a hand-painted sign that said, Life is short, blog unconditionally, and a framed newspaper article with the headline Local Grandmother Writes One of North Carolina’s Top Ten Blogs.
But there was no chance to ask Gramma Finnie about her writing, because the entourage had taken Andi into a sitting room, planted her in the middle of a settee as old as the woman who owned it, put champagne in her hand, and circled her.
So no, this wasn’t the tsunami she’d first felt in this house. This was more like a lifeboat of ladies determined to keep her afloat.
The youngest one, Molly’s daughter, Prudence, sat right down on the floor at Andi’s feet and opened a large notebook. “I’m in charge of the customs and requirements, and my research tells me that old, new, borrowed, and blue is the most important of all, followed by the throwing of the bouquet.”
Andi stared at her, not even sure how to respond to that, except that the social niceties of a wedding were the last thing on her mind.
“Don’t worry about Pru knowing the truth,” Molly said quickly, obviously misreading Andi’s expression. “She’s a hundred percent trustworthy, and we need her to keep us on the straight and narrow.”
Pru’s grin revealed impressive orthodontic hardware with neon green bands to hold it all together. “That’s kind of my role in this family, so I gave each of your team a job. Aunt Darcy is in charge of the décor and setup, including music, so you can work with her to decide where and when you want to walk in and what song should play.”
“Song?”
“Whatever song is yours and Liam’s.”
Andi angled her head. “We don’t have a song.”
“We’ll get you one.” Darcy’s eyes, that deep Kilcannon blue that so many of them got from their father, glinting playfully. “I have a whole list of possibilities, like I’ve Had the Time of My Life.”
“Gross,” Pru murmured.
“Okay, maybe something more modern, like John Legend’s All of Me.”
Gramma Finnie choked. “This is Liam, Darcy.”
“Seriously,” Molly chimed in.
“Okay, we’ll go with Who Let the Dogs Out,” Darcy exclaimed, cracking them all up.
Pru swiped her hand through the air, gesturing for quiet. “You two can work it out after we get through the assignments. Moving on. Jessie is in charge of getting the right officiate. She’s already talking to Pastor Blake from Southside Presbyterian for her wedding to Garrett, so if you go nonsecular, she’ll help you.”
“Nonsecular?” Andi whispered, having given exactly zero thought to the actual ceremony, religious or not.
“Oh, I know, lass,” Gramma Finnie said on a sigh, patting her hand. “It’s shocking to think about anything but a Catholic wedding in this family, but sadly, our church has such rules. A priest can’t marry you outside a church, and our faith requires marriage classes.” She leaned in. “And there is the issue of the eventual annulment, which we Catholics do try to avoid handing out like communion wafers.”
Andi gave a weak smile to Chloe. “Couldn’t your aunt do it?” Mayor Blanche Wilkins would be so much less…holy.
“I can ask her,” Chloe said.
“Of course, it’s up to you, lass,” Finnie said, her soft Irish lilt more like music than words. “And since Father John will be here, maybe he’ll whisper a wee prayer over you.”
“A wee one,” she said softly as Pru cleared her throat and powered on.
“Next up is the wedding party. If all of us got involved, it would be overwhelming, so we think one attendant, and Chloe volunteered to be maid of honor.”
Andi blinked at her friend. “That makes sense since I’m going to be yours.”
“Yes!” Chloe leaned over to take her other hand. “Actually, by the time Shane and I get married in the spring, you’ll be matron of honor, which has a horribly archaic ring to it.”
Next spring? This marriage would be annulled, and she might very well be living in Charlottesville with Christian…unless she lost him to a legal guardian. The thought was sobering, so she lifted her glass in a toast. “You are the perfect choice, Chloe.” And took a deep slug of champagne.
“Then come the vows,” Pru said.
“And I’ll be writing those.” Gramma gave her hand a solid squeeze.
“Expect Irish proverbs,” Molly joked. “A lot of them.”
Gramma lifted a narrow shoulder draped in a bright pink cardigan. “Some, yes. But I can make it more modern for you, if you like. I’ve already asked my Twitter followers to send me their favorite wedding vows and have so many of ideas.”
“Twitter? That’ll keep them short,” Andi said on a dry laugh, trying to wrap her head around the fact that her wedding vows would be written by an octogenarian social media maven who got her script from the Internet.
“And last—”
“But most important,” Molly interjected.
“The wedding dress.”
“Oh no.” Andi shook her head, rooting around for a grip on reality since these lovely ladies had lost it. “I’m not wearing a wedding dress. I’m not wearing white. I’m not…” She took a breath and exhaled slowly. “Getting married.”
“You’re not?”
“You changed your mind?”
“What about Christian?”
“Does Liam know?”
“What happened?”
Okay, now it was a tidal wave. She set her champagne flute down and held up both hands, closing her eyes to gather her wits. “I am still going through with a marriage for the sake of establishing that my life is stable and Christian is secure. I do believe it’s the best way to fend off Nora Scott before we even have to have any courtroom drama. But, guys…” She looked from one to the next. “Thank you so much for all this planning and worry and…and sisterly love. But it isn’t a wedding. Not like you want.”
“Not like you want,” Gramma Finnie said softly. “But it isn’t for you, it’s for Christian. And if you don’t at least put on a show that has some semblance of a real wedding, no one will buy it. People will talk. Talk will get to Nora. You’ll lose your child.”
Andi opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again, looking directly into the old woman’s eyes.
“All we’re trying to do is help in that regard, lass,” she added. “We do things the Kilcannon way, which might be a bit much for some, but—”
“No, no, you’re right,” Andi said, guilt squeezing her chest. “I’m being completely ungrateful. You’re so right.”
“And you’re so scared.” Gramma Finnie wrapped both her parchment-soft hands around one of Andi’s, lifting their joined hands between them. “But that’s why you have a big family to take care of the details. All you need to do is show up, say ‘I do’—or whatever I write for you, and I promise it won’t be too mushy—and make sure every single person in the room and in town believes in this marriage.”
“Except…Liam.”
Gramma Finnie raised a brow, then glanced at Molly. Who looked at Darcy. Who bit her lip and fought a smile. Pru busied herself with the notebook.
Andi looked from one to the other, frowning at the weird response. “Trust me, the whole thing is distasteful to him.”
Chloe tipped her head and gave her a get real look.
“It is, Chloe,” she insisted. “You know that.”
“What I know is that Shane calls you Liam’s kryptonite.”
Andi stared at her, letting that sink in. “His…”
“I don’t get it,” Pru said. “Kryptonite paralyzes Superman.”
“Kryptonite is his weakness,” Molly supplied, giving Andi a smile. “We all have one.”
Andi tried to respond, but nothing came out. Molly clapped, breaking the awkward moment. “So, have you given any thought to the dress?”
“No,” Andi admitted. “I suppose I have something in my closet. I have a pretty yellow sundress I wore to a wedding last year, or maybe a cool linen pantsuit.”
“Pantsuit?” Gramma Finnie barked the question as if Andi had suggested wearing a burlap sack.
“We can go shopping,” Molly said. “We have two days.”
Shopping for a wedding dress? “I don’t…” Andi shook her head. “I’ll just wear something I have.”
“It has to be at least a little wedding-ish,” Pru said. “Or no one’s going to believe you.”
“People will ask why the rush,” Darcy said. “And assumptions will be made.”
“I don’t care as long as they believe it’s real,” Andi replied.
Chloe leaned forward. “Then you better look real.”
Andi nodded, knowing they were all right. “Okay, well, obviously I can’t get a wedding dress, so I guess I can try and find something that is appropriate for a fast wedding at someone’s house that will be a surprise to almost everyone in attendance.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be a first here at Waterford Farm,” Gramma Finnie said, raising a meaningful brow. “And Liam was at that wedding, too, in a sense.”
“When Mom and Dad got married,” Darcy explained, reading Andi’s confused look. “It was super shotgun, and Liam was born six months later.”
“It was not ‘super shotgun,’” Gramma Finnie fired back. “It was lovely. I put the whole thing together with a week’s notice since they were so scared to tell me until I figured it out on my own. Annie’s parents wouldn’t even come, so we…” She gave a wistful sigh. “We made it nice.”
Andi tried to imagine Daniel Kilcannon and his pregnant wife getting married downstairs in this house, scared twenty-year-olds, uncertain about the future.
“They had the best marriage,” Darcy said with a crack in her voice.
Molly smiled and leaned closer to Andi. “We put her dress in Gramma Finnie’s bedroom on the off chance you might want to think about wearing it,” she whispered. “Do you want to see it?”
Andi looked into Molly’s sweet hazel eyes, holding her gaze as she searched her heart for a truthful answer. Talk about an emotional land mine—the dress worn by their dearly beloved mother, coming down the same steps for a second time, once again part of an unconventional marriage.
“It’ll be a little big on you,” Molly said. “But Pru can sew.”
Pru got up on her knees, joining them. “I brought my pins and sewing kit.”
“Of course you did.” Andi’s heart slid around in her chest, hitting her ribs so hard it might have cracked a few. “Okay, then,” she said softly, looking from one dear woman to the next and finally landing on Gramma Finnie’s blue eyes. “It would be an honor to wear Annie’s dress.”
“Well, wait,” the old woman said, pushing herself up. “You haven’t seen it yet.”
“It’s kind of seventies,” Darcy warned.
“But I can take the shoulder pads out,” Pru said, getting up when Molly did, both of them pulling Andi with them.
“And I hope those hideous ruffles come off the sleeves,” Darcy added.
“Yes, but you have to keep the blue ribbon,” Pru told her as they all swept Andi into the next room. “Then the dress meets three requirements—old, borrowed, and blue.”
“All you need is something new,” Jessie said as they headed into Gramma Finnie’s bedroom en masse.
But right then, everything was new. This family, this warmth, this giddy excitement over a marriage that shouldn’t be happening. It was all new, and Andi finally decided to quit fighting it and ride the Kilcannon tidal wave, hoping she didn’t drown.