“Assuming you aren’t the one who’s too tired,” Laura said, “I could use help with dinner.”
“Sure thing.”
Crossing to the large farmhouse sink, Brie soaped and rinsed her hands, then dried them on a bright yellow kitchen towel.
Meanwhile, Laura reached into a basket on the far counter, then gathered several thick, emerald green zucchini, a plump, shiny purple eggplant, a pair of large golden onions, a clove of garlic that crinkled in its papery skin, and several ruby and yellow heirloom tomatoes. She rinsed the vegetables in the sink, then passed them to Brie, who had already gone to get a cutting board and a knife.
“Ratatouille?” Brie confirmed.
“Of course. What goes better with roast chicken and buttered mashed potatoes than a big bowl of ratatouille?”
“Just-picked asparagus?”
“We’re having that too.”
Brie set to work while Laura returned to the stove, where it looked and smelled like she was making soup. Wedding soup appropriately enough, the rich, fragrant chicken stock simmering with onions and escarole. Tiny meatballs waited in a bowl nearby. They would be added at the end, along with beaten egg and extra salt and pepper to taste. Summer or winter, Laura always liked to start a meal with soup, and this was another family favorite.
“P.G. said he’d take my bag upstairs,” Brie remarked. “Then he and the kids are heading out again to pick up Caroline from their house. So, when is everyone else rolling in?”
“Madelyn and Zack and the girls should be here any minute—they called from the road about half an hour ago,” Laura told her. “As for your father, he and your uncle Owen and several of your cousins went out to pick up a few last-minute things. Beer, of course. Apparently I didn’t buy enough of the right kind.”
Laura tapped the spoon on the side of the pot. “Your aunt Constance is upstairs sleeping. Jet lag. Or at least she’s supposed to be sleeping. She brought a new male friend with her, of course. Ricardo. He’s a marine biologist. Very dashing and very Latin.”
Laura’s younger sister was a notorious free spirit who believed in the sanctity of marriage—for everyone other than herself. Confirmed single though she might be, she never went without male companionship and seemed to have a new lover with her every time she came for a visit.
Laura went to the kitchen window for some herbs that grew there in small pots. “I told Constance if she breaks the guest room bed, she’s paying for it.”
“Mom!”
“What?” Laura’s eyes twinkled. “Her driver’s license may say she’s fifty-two, but she acts like she’s your age. You haven’t brought a male friend with you, have you?”
Brie resisted the urge to sigh. “No. I think you’d have noticed him by now if I had.”
“A mother can always hope.”
Brie sliced the eggplant with extra force. “So where are the bride and groom? Off stealing a few moments alone?”
“No, they’re next door with the Jordans. James’s parents are giving Ivy some heirloom crystal and china that has apparently been passed down for generations. Oh, and the keys to a seaside villa in the south of France. Apparently, that’s Donald and Sylvia’s wedding present to Ivy and James. And one of the places they’re going for their honeymoon. James is keeping the other location a secret. He won’t even tell me.”
Brie smiled to herself over her mother’s hurt feelings at James’s keeping secrets from her. “His parents are giving them a trip to France? Wow, that’s generous.”
“No, the present is the villa. They’re getting an entire house. Mansion probably, knowing them.”
Before Brie had a chance to reply, footsteps echoed in the doorway.
“Did I just hear you say that Ivy and James are getting a villa in France as a wedding present? The Jordans didn’t offer to give me a villa when I was engaged to marry James. I always knew they liked Ivy better.”
“Madelyn!” Brie set down her knife and went forward to embrace her sister.
When Zack and the twins appeared moments later, she did the same with them. More kisses and hugs were exchanged with Laura, including ones that made Hannah and Holly squeal with delight. Visits to see Grammy and Grampa were always a big hit, especially when she led the girls over to the sink and gave each of them a big red strawberry.
“You have any wine, Laura?” Zack asked.
“Of course, dear. It’s there in the rack. Choose whichever one looks good.” Laura pointed with a hand. “Long trip?”
Madelyn sent her husband a sympathetic look over the girls’ heads. “Like you wouldn’t believe. Terrible traffic and a chorus of are-we-there-yets every five minutes.”
“Told you we should have gotten the optional DVD player for the rear passenger seats.” Zack went across to study the wine selection, deciding quickly on a bottle of something red. He went to find a corkscrew.
“We agreed that the girls don’t need to watch TV in the car. They’re much better off reading books, coloring, and playing road games.”
“Which would be wonderful if we could get either of them to actually do any of those things.” Zack popped the cork, found a glass, and poured himself a healthy draft. “Ah, sweet manna from heaven. You want a glass of red, Red?”
Madelyn sighed. “God, yes.”
The adults in the room laughed, while Zack got out more glasses.
Over the next hour the kitchen filled to bursting with family and conversation. P.G. and Caroline and their kids arrived. Brian and Heather joined several under-thirteen cousins who banded together in a kind of roving pack—the Grayson family dogs trailing from room to room with them. The cats, always wise, chose to retire upstairs. Hannah and Holly were taken upstairs too for a predinner nap, so they wouldn’t be cranky later on.
Philip Grayson shouldered his way inside not long after, his red hair glinting in the last of the evening sunshine, his arms laden with beer. He stopped to give Brie a huge bear hug and a kiss on the cheek that made her laugh and smile. The uncles twisted open bottles of Irish beer and kicked back while Aunt Constance introduced Ricardo around. Laura was right that he was very Latin and very charming, flirting in a way that left all the women in the room blushing. Even so, he made it plain that he and Constance were together—he was constantly touching her—and for the first time, Brie wondered if there might be more wedding bells on the horizon.
The meal came together while everyone talked and caught up on their lives and plans. James and Ivy appeared, along with his parents, who, despite their long years of acquaintance, never looked completely at ease in the company of the noisy, gregarious Grayson clan.
Brie embraced James, who grinned and laughed, his eyes brimming with love every time he looked at Ivy. He was even happy to see Madelyn and Zack, the old hurts dead and buried, truly a thing of the past.
Then she turned to Ivy. “Hey, soon-to-be-a-Mrs. How are you doing?”
“Wonderful. Excited.”
“Nervous?”
“No.” Ivy smiled. “I’ve wanted this since I was fifteen years old. How could I be anything but jazzed to the max? As for James”—she shot a glance from under her blond lashes at her fiancé, where he stood talking to P.G.—“I think he’s nervous.”
“He doesn’t look nervous.”
“He’s good at hiding it. Still I know he can’t help but remember the last time he was a groom.”
“Well, you’re not going to ditch him at the altar. You’re more likely to lasso him and drag him up to the officiant.”
“True dat.”
“True dat?”
“Neil’s been instructing me on the finer points of rap culture.”
“Neil would.”
Neil Jones was one of Ivy’s best friends and the only male member of her bridal party. He would be wearing a tailored suit rather than a bridesmaid’s gown.
Brie
chuckled. “Only tomorrow to go. And then it’ll be your wedding day!”
“I know.”
They grinned at each other, Brie happy to see her sister so happy.
“Okay, everybody,” Laura said, raising her voice. “Dinner is served.”
Amid laughter and conversation, they all filed into the dining room.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brie took her place in front of the wide bridal arch, which burst candy-sweet with masses of white and pink flowers—delphiniums, viburnums, ranunculus, white lilacs, and sweet peas, all woven together with an abundance of leafy greenery.
The day was sunny and comfortably warm with a light breeze that sent her tea-length, blush pink organza bridesmaid’s dress billowing delicately around her calves. A string quartet played soothing strains of music while the multitude of guests seated on white wooden chairs murmured quietly to one another in anticipation of the bride’s arrival.
To Brie’s left stood Neil Jones, Ivy’s man of honor, looking dapper in a charcoal gray three-piece suit with a pink rose boutonniere that matched the flowers in the bridesmaids’ bouquets. He took a moment to wave surreptitiously to his partner, Josh, who sat in the second row, next to their friend Fred, and Fred’s new girlfriend.
To her right was Caroline, looking pretty and well rested; Ivy’s leggy dancer friend and former neighbor, Lulu Lancaster; and, next to her, Kayla Cardwell, Ivy’s old college roommate, who’d flown in all the way from Colorado just for the wedding.
Ivy had asked Madelyn to be one of her attendants, but Madelyn had declined. This was Ivy and James’s day, Madelyn had told her, and even if they’d all put the past behind them, she didn’t want any awkwardness or bad memories that might cast a shadow over their happy celebration to crop up. So Madelyn had cheerfully opted to be just a guest.
Madelyn smiled at Brie from where she sat next to Zack in the second row behind their mother and aunts and uncles. Beside them were Hannah and Holly, looking cute as buttons in their pink wedding finery. The girls had already done their walk down the aisle, scattering pink rose petals with surprising aplomb, before hurrying into their seats next to their parents.
Young Brian stood with obvious pride next to P.G., who was one of James’s five groomsmen. The others, including James’s best man, were all friends of James whom Brie barely knew. Then there was James himself.
As Ivy had predicted, he looked nervous. He waited, tall and dashingly urbane in his elegantly tailored gray vested suit, his thick, short blond hair gleaming as vibrant as gold under the June sun. Every minute or so, he would cast a glance toward the house, an almost imperceptible frown riding his handsome brow.
Was he remembering the last time he’d stood at the altar, waiting for his bride? One who had decided to call off the wedding at the last moment.
But, as Brie knew, having been with a euphorically grinning Ivy less than two minutes before, he had nothing to worry about. Unlike the last time, his bride wasn’t about to desert him.
Then the “Wedding March” began to play.
Heather, the eldest flower girl, walked out onto the petal-strewn runner, looking sweet and pretty in her frilly dress. She held a small petal-filled basket over one arm. With a solemnity that brought smiles to everyone’s faces, she moved forward, scattering additional white rose petals as she went.
Less than a minute later, Ivy appeared.
The entire company drew a collective inhalation of pleasure; Ivy was just that beautiful. Her dress was timeless and elegant, pure white with a sleeveless illusion neckline and a soft lace-overlay bodice. The full tulle skirt was as light and frothy as a confection with an airiness that made it seem as if she were floating rather than walking down the aisle, their father at her side. Her blond hair was coiled high and pinned in soft waves that framed her face, a long sheer veil completing the look, which was nothing short of heaven.
Clearly, James agreed, his expression one of reverence and soul-deep love. A slow smile spread over his face as he waited for Ivy to join him, his anxiety replaced with confident joy.
The ceremony began, the judge, who was also a family friend, having the honor of officiating.
Brie watched and listened, blinking back tears when Ivy and James began to recite their unique vows. As part of his, James read the E. E. Cummings poem “I Carry Your Heart with Me,” his voice ringing out with such sincere emotion that there wasn’t a dry eye left. Even the judge had to blink a time or two before he began speaking again.
Then the rings were exchanged, the final vows spoken, and they were pronounced husband and wife.
“You may kiss your bride,” the judge told James.
Grinning, James pulled Ivy into his arms for a passionate kiss that sent titters of indulgent amusement through the crowd. He was laughing when he let her come up for air, and so was she, her cheeks stained as pink as the roses in her bouquet. Her eyes glowed with a happiness that seemed to know no bounds.
The string quartet burst into life once more, music filling the air as the happy couple started back down the aisle.
As they did, Brie’s gaze moved idly out across the multitude of assembled guests. Suddenly a tall, dark-haired man in the back got to his feet. She looked hard, then harder still, her eyes popping like a cartoon character’s as recognition set in.
What in the hell?
Her fingers tightened around her bouquet, nails digging into the satin-wrapped stems. Of all the places she might expect to bump into Maddox Monroe, this was the very last one.
“Brie,” hissed a voice near her ear.
She turned her head to see who had spoken.
It was Lulu.
“Time to go,” Lulu said. “You’re holding everybody up.”
Looking to her left, she saw that one of James’s groomsmen—Evan, if she remembered right—was indeed waiting for her to join him as part of the processional back down the aisle.
“Oh, sorry.” Gathering herself, she took his arm and walked forward.
But all the way down the aisle, she was aware of only one guest, one man, the tall, dark thorn in her side who seemed to pop up wherever she went these days. As she passed his row, she met Maddox’s twinkling brown eyes. He grinned at her and waggled his brows.
She looked straight ahead and continued on.
“Christ, I need a drink,” she said the moment she and her groomsman escort were clear of the crowd.
“Me too. Wanna go with me and find the bar before we have to line up for photos?” Evan waited, his attractive features and pale blue eyes clearly hopeful.
“Yeah, you’re on. My mother set up this shindig, so I know exactly where it is. Follow me.”
Smiling, Evan followed.
* * *
One flute of champagne and a half hour of photographs later, Brie slipped into the huge reception tent, all the sides wide-open to let in the sunlight and the mild, cooling breeze.
She scanned the milling guests, checking for Maddox, but didn’t see him. Maybe he’d thought better of crashing the wedding and had left. But she rather doubted it. He was probably off hitting on one of the other bridesmaids.
Lulu most likely.
What was he doing here? And how had he known when and where the wedding was being held anyway? Surely Trish hadn’t told him? She was always very tight-lipped about personal information concerning the employees, partners, and associates of the firm.
Then the truth dawned on her. She herself had been the one to tell him about the wedding, that day he’d dropped her off for the fitting. Obviously he’d figured out the rest of the particulars on his own.
But why bother coming to her sister’s wedding? Surely there were other ways of tracking her down, if that’s the only reason he was here. Then again, she was easy to find and easy to corner and she couldn’t buzz for security the way she could have at her office. Bottom line, he was trouble
.
Irritated, she considered going on the hunt for him just to get whatever-was-coming over with. But then Ivy and James arrived and made their big entrance as the new Mr. and Mrs. James Jordan and the opportunity passed.
She was standing off to one side, watching the bride and groom’s first dance, when a large hand curved around her shoulder from behind. A masculine thumb skimmed down the back of her neck, his touch making hot shivers chase over her skin.
“Hey, Brie-Brie, fancy meeting you here.”
She swung around and shook off his hand. “Monroe.”
“Ah-ah.” He metronomed a finger side to side. “Maddox, remember?”
Studying him, she was annoyed to discover that he looked absolutely scrumptious in a tailored brown suit, pale lavender shirt, and dark purple tie that would have looked ludicrous on any other man but did spectacular things for him.
“What are you doing here?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Attending a wedding, obviously.”
“Crashing it, you mean. You’ve always had a lot of nerve, but this goes way beyond.”
“I’m not crashing. I was invited.”
“By who?”
“Whom,” he corrected. “And your mother asked me to come.”
Her lips parted. “Why would my mother invite you to Ivy’s wedding? And how do you even know my mother anyway?”
“Business, as it happens. I ran into her at the hotel one afternoon. She’s planning a wedding at the M for one of her clients and we got to talking. Seems she’s been having trouble with her usual caterer and had another wedding that was in free fall because she couldn’t find anyone to provide the food. I made some arrangements with my kitchen and we were able to help her out last minute.
“When I happened to mention that I know you, that you’re my lawyer and that we went to school together as kids, well, she insisted I come up today to enjoy the festivities.”
Brie crossed her arms. “She never said anything to me about it.”
“Is she in the habit of consulting with you about everything she does?”
Mad About the Man Page 11
