Her mother leaned out the car window before she left and called to Sylvia, “Remember next weekend,” she told Sylvia, “I’m headed to the beach with John and Donna. I’ll see you in two weeks for the fourth of July.”
A small sigh of relief escaped after her mom drove down the road. She turned to Owen and melted into a hug.
“I love you,” she told him, “but, this wedding stuff might push me over the edge.”
“Hey,” he said, holding her at arm’s length and saying with conviction, “you’re doing an excellent job and it’s all going to fall into place.” He pulled her back into a hug. “Go inside and call Maureen. Then we can order invitations and move onto the next step.”
“Okay, okay,” she told him, “Pushy man,” she teased.
Maureen sounded absolutely beat on the phone. Sylvia told her she would email her a copy of the invitation, but was calling to double check on the time for the ceremony and if it was still all right with Maureen and Skip to have the ceremony at the marina.
“Even though things are really, really messed up,” Maureen told Sylvia, “I think it’s a good idea to have the wedding here.”
“Are you sure you are okay?” Sylvia asked her friend again. There was a note in Maureen’s voice that Sylvia couldn’t understand.
There was a catch of a sigh at the beginning of the reply. Maureen’s voice was barely above a whisper, “George’s murder is so scary,” she admitted to Sylvia, “and, I’m not sure where this investigation is leading,” she told her friend. “I—I can’t talk about it right now.”
Changing the subject and putting a happier note in her voice, Maureen said, “Sylvia, order those invitations. I’ll check about pergolas tomorrow and email you. I said I would help you with this wedding, and I will.” Maureen sounded like she was putting on a brave face.
“Okay,” Sylvia said, “if you’re sure. I’m sure we can switch the wedding to the Yacht Club if we need to do that.”
“No!” Maureen told her adamantly, “Absolutely not! It will be lovely to have the wedding here. Order those invitations!”
“All right,” Sylvia said. “Here I go, clicking the button to place the order.”
They ended their phone call on a happier note. Sylvia padded out in her bare feet to Owen. He was on the deck, reading and enjoying the sunshine. The watered glittered brightly in waves of gold in the sunlight.
“Invitations ordered,” she started to tell him and realized he was on the phone. “Sorry!” she stage whispered.
He looked up at her and smiled before he said to the caller, “Wait a minute, here she is.” Owen handed the phone to Sylvia. “Go ahead,” he told her. “It’s my mom.”
“Hi, Anne,” Sylvia greeted. “How are you?”
“I’m thinking I am doing better than you,” Anne replied. “Owen was telling me you had the bridal shopping experience from hell.”
“It was something like that,” Sylvia agreed. “That big bridal store just isn’t my ‘thing.’”
“Why don’t you come up this way?” Anne asked. “There’s a small bridal salon in town and we could go shopping in Lancaster too. They have some lovely boutiques in the older section of the city.”
“Hmm…” Sylvia considered. “That sounds lovely. When could we do that?” she asked.
“How is next weekend?” Anne suggested, “Because, we’re headed to you for the fourth of July in two weeks,” she reminded Sylvia. “And,” she suggested, “why don’t you come solo? Owen can stay at home and do his thing with this boat he’s purchasing and look after Percy too.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” Sylvia replied. “I take it you have already discussed this with Owen?”
Owen nodded, smiling before his mother had a chance to reply.
“I have discussed this with Owen,” Anne told her, “I’ll call Mary to see if she can come too and I will see you next Friday!”
They talked for a few more minutes. Sylvia told Anne that her mom was planning to go to the Jersey shore with friends next weekend. They would be on their own. Also, Sylvia told Anne that she would send the link for the invitations, and bring a sample, if they arrived in time.
After the phone call, Sylvia suggested to Owen, “Let’s go for a walk. I need some fresh air,” she told him.
At the word ‘walk,’ Percy began to prance and whine.
“Okay, boy,” Owen told him, “you certainly know the ‘w’ word! Go and get your leash.”
They automatically started walking towards the marina. Percy stopped at his favorite trees along the way to mark his spot and sniff enthusiastically where dogs had left previous marks. They topped the rise and headed down the small hill towards the marina. In the distance, they saw flashing lights.
“Oh, no!” Sylvia breathed. “Is that something at the marina again?” Her stomach clenched and she stopped, squinting to see what was happening.
Owen stopped too and looked at the flashing lights. “I don’t think they’re at Maureen and Skip’s marina,” he told Sylvia. “I think it’s coming from the cove across from them. Isn’t that a small yacht club?”
“I think so,” Sylvia answered slowly. “I wonder what’s going on.”
“We’ll probably find out tomorrow in the local paper,” Owen said grimly, “or you can ask your source – Carol, to learn from Joe.”
“Oh, yeah,” Sylvia said. “Where is my brain?”
They continued to walk towards the marina. By the time they reached the marina, the police activity across the cove had dissipated. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled at the sight of the boat lift. Sylvia automatically started to give it a wide berth. Owen understood. He took her elbow and steered her away from the boat lift area and toward a grassy open space that bordered the bay. It was an alternate parking area, and it jutted up to Skip and Maureen’s house, which looked dark and closed that evening. This would be the spot where the pergola would be and where they would be married. Sylvia’s stomach fluttered in a good way. Owen put an arm around Sylvia and drew her tightly against him.
“Just think,” he murmured into the hair by her ear, “in a few weeks, we’ll be married in this very spot.”
“I know,” Sylvia answered huskily. “It barely seems real.”
A pair of great blue heron soared and circled and landed gracefully on the small strip of beach below the breakwater rocks. They waded into the water looking for fish treats while Sylvia and Owen stood silently. Even Percy sat still. They watched the elegant birds. The twilight garnered the day turning it into night, changed the light, blue-grey birds into dusky silhouettes as night fell.
The heron squawked their rusty sounding cry good-naturedly with each other. Loud “karwack – wak – wak’s” filled the air. Without warning, they lifted their great wings and flew down the bay and out of sight.
Owen turned Sylvia and pulled her toward him. He kissed her sweetly. Once again, that blissful feeling of every single thing in the universe working in synchronicity came to Sylvia. The kisses deepened and Sylvia returned them. She gave herself wholly to them until Percy whined.
“Kids,” Owen said disgustedly, but with humor. His eyes darkened with desire. “Let’s go home,” he murmured.
And they did.
Chapter 9
“The greater part of our happiness or misery depends on our dispositions and not on our circumstances.” Martha Washington
During the week, Carol pushed Sylvia nearly to her breaking point. At every available free moment at work, Carol nagged at Sylvia to work on the wedding. Carol loved the invitations and said she would assist Sylvia in addressing them in the next few days. Carol also sent Sylvia an enormous number of pictures of bridal bouquets via email and text. She also set up a time for them to taste test wedding cakes at a local bakery early the next week. Sylvia threatened her good-naturedly that she was going to order business cards for Carol as a wedding planner.
Carol only grinned at the compliment and replied half-seriously and a little wistful
ly, “Someday…”
Maureen sent her photos of the pergola they were purchasing for the marina. It was a large, square shaped pergola with beautiful columns. Maureen also sent her pictures of breezy, sheer curtains covered in translucent leafy vines to hang from the sides of the pergola. It was lovelier than Sylvia could have imagined. She enthusiastically responded her thanks to Maureen’s email and looked forward to seeing them put the pergola in place in the next few weeks. Maureen also sent her information on chair rental and covers and other details that Sylvia never would have thought of for the wedding. She forwarded the information to her mom so that she could take care of that detail.
On Friday, Sylvia skipped lunch so that she could leave a little early. She and Owen had driven separate cars to Thurmont and she was packed to travel to Phil and Anne’s. It was mid-afternoon when she logged off her computer and shut her office door. Carol and Mr. Carter were discussing something at Carol’s desk. They wished her luck and safe travels. Sylvia dropped by Owen’s office to say goodbye. He was perched on a lab stool and busily writing notes when she stopped in.
“Hey,” she murmured and rubbed a hand on his shoulder.
He jumped a little, but turned and smiled at Sylvia. “Hey, yourself. All ready to go?”
Sylvia nodded.
“Percy and I will miss you,” he told her, stepping off the stool and gathering her in his arms.
“I’ll miss you, boys, too,” Sylvia told him.
Sylvia had hoped, by leaving an hour early, that she might miss some of the commuter traffic. She knew the roads coming south towards the bay would be crowded with boaters and had hoped that they would be clearer going north and west. The roads to Millersville were primarily two-lane roads. She forgot that commuter traffic was not the issue, but, the traffic from the Amish buggies and the farm equipment proved to slow her down more than she hoped. In many places, there were long lines of vehicles, mostly patiently waiting to pass an Amish buggy or a heavy piece of farm equipment. With the twists and turns in the road and nothing on the sides except tall, ripening corn, passing a buggy or a huge piece of farm equipment was not an option. The trip took much longer than Sylvia expected.
Finally, Sylvia turned off the main highway to a smaller road that led to Millersville. Millersville was a tiny community built around the college. Sylvia had only visited Anne and Phil a couple of times. Their house was tucked into the end of a street in the corner of the campus. It was a tall, stately, Victorian house that was tucked in behind pine trees and lower mugo pine bushes. Small pocket gardens of Echinacea and Black Eyed Susan’s brightened the dark greens of the pines. Phil and Anne had restored the Victorian to its original colors of mustard yellow with red trim. It might look garish to some, but it was historically correct. It was appropriate since Phil was a history professor that specialized in the Civil War era.
Sylvia pulled into the driveway that led to the back of the house, past a small garden to a tiny parking area near a free standing garage. Sylvia got out and stretched before she pulled her overnight bag and walked to the front of the house. She raised the large, shining, brass door knocker and heard it reverberate through the door and into the house. Sylvia could hear feet rapidly coming to the door. Anne opened the door and enthusiastically pulled Sylvia into an enormous hug.
“Sylvia! Welcome!” she cried, pulling her inside.
What could have been a dark and dismal Victorian interior was bright with light paint and sparse furnishings. Sylvia remembered Phil and Anne had hired a talented art student to paint and create wainscoting for the foyer. She also remembered that Phil and Anne had not owned this property very long, perhaps for five years or less. Owen and his parents used to live across from the campus on a small suburban street of mid-size ranchers in stone and brick that was fondly called “Professors’ Row.”
Anne took Sylvia’s overnight bag and set it beside the steps and led her past a formal living room calling to Phil as she did so. Phil emerged from the study. He had his usual dazed look about him and a book dangling from his hand. He gave Sylvia a hug as well.
“Come through,” Anne gestured to Sylvia.
They walked down the long hallway and into the kitchen. Anne led her to a small, screened-in porch at the back of the house. Sylvia had barely noticed it when she got out of her car. It was almost hidden behind a tree and mature hosta that had a sea of light purple blooms. Anne had wine and cheese set out for them to enjoy. Sylvia brought Anne and Phil up to speed on what she knew about the sailboat and the wedding plans. Phil excused himself to make a quick phone call and returned to say dinner was on its way.
Anne added, “We’re keeping it simple, if that’s all right with you, Sylvia. I have a lovely salad, and the Sugar Bowl across from the campus makes the best strombolis in the world. “
“It sounds terrific,” Sylvia assured her.
Anne filled her in on the thoughts for the next day, starting with the bridal shop in town and then shopping in downtown Lancaster.
“Hmm, maybe we should have saved take out for tomorrow night,” she mused to Phil and Sylvia. “I’m thinking we’re going to be exhausted.”
They had a lovely evening on the porch, talking and laughing, eating and drinking. Anne and Phil told her funny stories of Owen growing up. Some he would be terribly embarrassed for her to know, but others were quite endearing. Anne even pulled out some childhood photos to share with Sylvia. He was mortified, of course, when she called to say good night to him and teased him about one of his pictures in the bathtub.
The next morning, Anne and Sylvia left in the morning to head to the bridal salon in town. When they entered, the thick, soft, pale, plum colored carpet silenced their footsteps. Sounds were completely muffled but, a small, tinkling bell alerted the saleswoman to come from the back room.
“Good morning,” she greeted Sylvia. “Welcome to ‘Weddings in White.’ I am Ms. Cartwright.”
Sylvia introduced herself and Anne. She also told Ms. Cartwright that she needed a dress fairly quickly. Ms. Cartwright became a brisk, efficient machine and asked about her size. She pulled some things off the racks and led Sylvia to a fitting room.
“Here are some lovely gowns,” Ms. Cartwright said to Sylvia. “Let me help you with these.”
Sylvia tried on a lovely gown that looked like it stepped from the “Great Gatsby” era. The simple dress was of low cut silk and felt delicious on Sylvia’s skin. It had a lovely fishtail train. She liked it, but it was much too low cut for her. She walked out to where Anne was waiting.
“Oooh,” Anne said, “that’s lovely. What do you think?”
Sylvia told Anne that it was pretty, but not exactly what she wanted. They moved onto the next gown. Miss Cartwright called it a bateau neckline, but to Sylvia it was a wide neckline of gorgeous lace that went just slightly off the shoulder. A dupioni silk bodice was covered in lace with the silk forming a long skirt and a gathered empire waist with a beautiful sash. Sylvia sucked in her breath when she looked in the mirror. This was it…but, not quite. She walked out to Anne, who breathed a happy sigh as well.
“Sylvia!” Anne cried, “You look stunning in that dress.”
“I love this one,” Sylvia admitted, “but, I want to keep looking.”
They continued through a few more gowns. This experience of shopping for a bridal gown was far superior to the bridezilla salon. Sylvia felt elegant and beautiful in most of the gowns, and she was having fun. Anne confessed that this was something she actually craved – some girly, girl activity and she never had a daughter to experience it with. The final gown, Sylvia fell in love with. It was a creamy satin with delicate embroidered chiffon, or allusion, as Ms. Cartwright told her, overlay. The embroidery was delicate vines and a few flowers. It was just off the shoulder, had embroidered chiffon bell sleeves and was lovely. She felt like a woodland princess and she knew Anne would fall in love with this particular dress. Anne did.
“Oh, Syl!” she said, “That one is perfect. Can’t you just
see a wreath of flowers in your hair with that dress?”
“It’s definitely on my short list,” Sylvia agreed. She asked Ms. Cartwright to put it on hold and she would let her know by Monday if this was the dress she wanted.
Sylvia and Anne were practically giddy as they drove to Lancaster. Anne had snapped photos and texted them to Mary, Gwen, and Carol. Enthusiastic responses flew back and forth with the group. Downtown, there were several interesting boutiques. Sylvia felt her gaze travel from storefront to more attractive storefronts, sporting clothing, handmade soap, unusual boutiques, and antique shops.
On their trip to the city, Anne asked if Sylvia would like having high tea for lunch. Sylvia was delighted, and Anne parked nearby. They walked along looking in the brick storefronts to a small tearoom on the next block.
The tea room was decorated with floral sprigged wallpaper, antique tables, chairs, and linens. Beautiful fresh flowers graced the tables. Sylvia had never been to a high tea before. Anne made a couple of suggestions on tea varieties, and the waitress brought a steaming kettle to pour over tea leaves into two antique pots. Anne ordered a high tea for them, tea sandwiches, scones, and pastries. Soon their table was filled with the savory sandwiches of cucumber, radish, and smoked salmon. There was also a plate of delicious scones. To top it off more pastries were brought for dessert.
“We’ll need to stroll the streets to walk off this lunch, and find the bridal salon I was telling you about,” Anne said as she took one last bite of scone and clotted cream.
“Mmm,” Sylvia agreed. “What an incredible lunch. Marian would love this. I would think it would remind her of England.”
Anne agreed. “Perhaps we can have a girls’ day out with your mom and Marian, and come here for shopping and tea.”
“After the wedding,” Sylvia intoned.
“Absolutely,” Anne agreed. “After the wedding, and maybe I could talk two newlyweds into coming to our house for Thanksgiving dinner?” she hinted to Sylvia. “We could invite your mom, Marian, and Jon.”
The Blossoming: The Third book in The Green Man Series Page 7
