“I found the words,” she told Thor.

He licked her face, which made her glad about her staunch refusal to wear any makeup.

“You ready?” She scrubbed her fingers into his sides and he wiggled with delight. “Of course you are,” she acknowledged in her squeaky dog voice.

“He’s always ready,” Dilya laughed. “He’s a dog. How about you?”

Linda looked over at her. This time their dresses matched, or were at least color coordinated. Dilya had insisted and Linda had known better than to argue.

“You never were fifteen, were you?”

Dilya shrugged. She could pass for twenty-five in the elegant dress of pale-lavender silk with a wide white sash emphasizing her waist. She wore her hair down—the only styling battle that Linda had won in this entire affair other than no makeup. If Dilya’s hair was down, then she could leave her own down as well.

“You’re still short, you know,” she teased Dilya.

“So are you!” Her maid of honor stuck her tongue out at Linda.

“Taller than you,” Linda returned the salute with an added raspberry.

“Not much,” Dilya pointed to her own bright red boots with two-inch heels.

Linda had won the shoe battle by arguing that she wanted to dance with her new husband and didn’t want to trip. Dilya had finally caved and allowed her to purchase white flats, but it had cost her two inches in the height battle and left her with only a narrow lead.

There was a discreet knock. Dilya answered and then let former President Matthews into the room. Linda rose to her feet.

“You look very nice in your suit, President Matthews.”

“That’s Secretary of State Matthews, thanks to you. It’s so good to have something useful to do. I can never show you my full appreciation for coming up with the idea. And you look amazing in that dress.”

“Thank you. I had the best help ever,” she placed a hand on Dilya’s shoulder in thanks. Then she did a slow turn for him and he made a point of applauding. She watched herself in the East Bedroom mirror, a room that the First Family had loaned her for the occasion.

The wedding would be small, but the President and First Lady had insisted on holding it in the Residence’s Central Hall where she’d saved everyone’s lives three months before.

Dilya had understood her well enough to choose a simple white knee-length dress, with a lace sheer and a lavender waistband to match Dilya’s dress.

She’d considered a bouquet of chocolate, then thought of apple blossoms instead. How perfect a gift Clive had given her.

“You know, I tried to perform the ceremony for Emily once.”

“How did that turn out?”

Secretary Matthews grimaced. “Not well. I lost a shoe in her pond.”

“No ponds here, you should be safe.”

“I hope so. I like these shoes. Are you ready for this? If so, we should do it before the groom melts down like one of his chocolates.”

She used a bit of lace to tie the rings onto Thor’s harness.

Linda bit her lower lip for a moment, then nodded. As ready as she was ever going to be to completely change her life in a single moment.

Former President Matthews had been an obvious replacement for the jailed Secretary of State Mallinson. He knew global politics from his own two terms of office; because of his wife’s directorship with the UNESCO World Heritage Centre, he had continued to travel widely, and he was immensely respected around the world—by both friend and foe. The way he had lit up the moment she’d suggested the idea over Clive’s luscious dessert soup, she knew it had been one of her better ones.

“Oh, wait,” Linda dug into her purse—because Dilya had finally won that war—and pulled out the thin gold ribbon. It was from the one chocolate bouquet she’d gotten to eat on that night a lifetime ago. She looked at the words on it for a moment.

Freedom and Unity.

It might be the Vermont motto, but it was also a good message for herself: freedom from her past and a new unity in her future. Tied up in a gold knot.

“Could you give this to him?”

Secretary Matthews took it cautiously, then read the words and smiled. Without comment, he stepped over and gave her a hug and a kiss on the forehead. He did the same for Dilya before heading out the door to get in place so that he could officiate the wedding ceremony of Linda and Clive Andrews. It would be a relief to be rid of her family name.

Dilya followed through the door when the pianist started the Wedding March on the grand piano. The First and Second families would be rising to their feet, along with Dilya’s parents. Linda had decided against inviting her own—a choice Clive had agreed to after a brief, very brief, visit to Vermont. But there absolutely was a contingent from the Secret Service K-9 teams with their dogs.

She’d found a team as fine as the 75th Rangers. They gave her a place and a purpose.

Linda might not have recognized the vivacious older woman who had offered her services as photographer if not for her gold locket and piercing blue eyes. She was tall, with long silver hair, and looked slimly elegant in a black von Furstenberg pantsuit as she wielded her cameras. If Clive had caught on that it was Miss Watson, he certainly hadn’t mentioned it.

Clive.

He was the one who had given her the greatest gift of all.

His patience and love.

It had taken her two months to find the words “I love you” inside herself. The moment she’d found them and managed to speak them (which had been a whole separate challenge), they’d both wept.

Then and there—while the tears still streamed down her face for only the second time since her childhood had ended—he had gone down on bent knee to propose.

Clive had given her a promise she’d never imagined possible.

He’d promised a future and a family.

She only had to find two more words to make it all come true. She’d already written “I do” on a piece of paper clutched in her fist just in case she couldn’t say them aloud.

But she knew she would, and stepped out the door in confidence. She would walk down the aisle herself with Thor to escort her.

She’d be able to say them because, just like his chocolate, Clive’s promises would turn out to be ever so perfectly delightful.