by Donna Ball
The night was crisp and clear, just cool enough to make the warmth of the dancing fire from the brass braziers and the thousands of candles that lined the paths welcome. The entire garden was alight with swaying flames and twinkling lights, and a perfect harvest moon hung overhead, as though it had been special-ordered for the occasion—which, Lindsay speculated later, it might well have been, given Paul’s propensity for perfection. Gauze-draped canopies were set up across the landscape, highlighting various stations along the Moroccan buffet—appetizers on miniature skewers served with individual dipping sauces, rich roasted meats, and exotically flavored fried sweet potatoes, a dessert station with gooey honey pastries and bright fruits floating in champagne. There was a flower-draped arbor with a bucket swing made for two, full-length mirrors in gold frames set at precise angles along the paths to reflect the lights and the gaiety, and, in the center of the patio that overlooked the koi pond, an astonishing life-sized photo poster of Dominic and Lindsay had been placed, dominating the crowd. It was clearly a candid shot, with the two of them holding hands against a blurred background of green, looking into each others’ eyes and laughing.
Lindsay stared at it, hardly knowing what to say. “How did they …?”
“I really can’t imagine,” Bridget said, but looked far too innocent to be convincing.
“It’s … spooky.” Lindsay didn’t seem to be able to take her eyes off of it.
Dominic’s eyes twinkled. “I like it,” he said. “Maybe they’ll let us take it home after the party.”
“I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t,” said Cici, and her tone reflected the kind of horrified fascination that was in Lindsay’s eyes.
“Marvelous, isn’t it?” Harmony, sweeping by in an elaborate purple and red silk caftan with a matching turban headdress, blew her a kiss. “All of your friends will write their good wishes on it before they leave, and you can keep it as a souvenir!”
Lindsay happened to notice Derrick standing a few feet away just then, and he rolled his eyes to the heavens in a gesture of helpless apology. Lindsay grinned. “Thank heaven it was Harmony’s idea,” she told Cici. “I was starting to think something had gone terribly wrong with the boys’ taste.”
“I think it’s just what you need over the mantel at Ladybug Farm,” Dominic said, and Cici slapped his arm playfully.
Seventy-two people wandered through the garden, sipping wine and sampling the buffet, laughing and chatting and embracing the happy couple. Many of them were friends Lindsay hadn’t seen since she’d left Baltimore, and the Hummingbird House was filled to capacity with overnight guests. They snapped photographs of the elaborate décor for their social media pages and caught up on old times, and when they went home they would take memories, stories, and recommendations to friends and colleagues for the eclectic and elegant little B&B in the Shenandoah.
“Say what you like about Harmony,” observed Cici to Derrick as she paused to fill her glass from a champagne fountain that flowed from the mouth of a lion into a sparkling blue tiled tabletop pool, “and we have said plenty, but she does know how to make the most of her marketing dollar. This party is going to be tweeted and retweeted for weeks. You won’t be able to keep up with the reservations.”
“That’s true, I suppose.” He tried not to look too worried. “I just hope it isn’t too over the top. We had hoped for something a little more … dignified.” Then he cheered. “But the buffet is incredible, isn’t it?”
“Out of this world,” Cici assured him. “And how many times does anyone in this county get to taste Moroccan food? You boys have definitely taken the quality of life around here up a notch since you moved in.”
He looked pleased. “Do you think so? That’s sweet of you to say. We do try. Oh, there’s George and Arianna. Did you speak to them? My,” he added confidentially, “she’s put on weight, hasn’t she?”
He hurried off to welcome his guests and Cici was still chuckling when Bridget came up beside her. “Oh my goodness, is that champagne?” She stretched across Cici to get a glass and filled it from the lion’s mouth. “Isn’t this fun? It’s just like the old days back on Huntington Lane.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Cici agreed. “It’s good to see old friends. Although I can’t actually remember Paul and Derrick ever giving a party with a turbaned fortune-teller, even on Huntington Lane, and they gave some pretty outrageous parties.”
“Lindsay seems to be having a good time.”
“I don’t know why she was so worried about trimming back the guest list for the wedding. She should have known Paul and Derrick would outdo themselves for her. And now the people we didn’t get to invite to wedding got to come to a Moroccan feast, even some of Dominic’s friends from the university.”
“The important thing for a second wedding is to be flexible,” Bridget said, sipping her champagne. “It’s really silly to try to have a traditional wedding at this age, even if you are wearing Vera Wang.”
And then she glanced at Cici, her expression a little hesitant, as though she were embarrassed to ask the question. “Do you ever feel … I don’t know, jealous of Lindsay? Just a little?”
“Do you mean because of Dominic?”
Bridget ducked her head in assent. “And the wedding. And … well, yes, the husband.”
Cici thought about that, but not for long. “Not really. In the first place, I like Dominic a lot, but he’s really not my type.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Well, it would make a difference,” Cici insisted reasonably. “There’s nothing worse than two women interested in the same man, especially if he’s only interested in one of them.”
“I suppose,” Bridget said. “But I’d certainly like to think that grown-up women would have better sense.”
“There’s nothing sensible about romance, no matter what the age. But the truth is, I’ve got nothing to be jealous of Lindsay about—except maybe that dress. She’s happy, and I’m so glad, but she’s no happier than I am. I love my life. I wouldn’t change a thing.” Cici looked at Bridget, but even before she asked the question, her smile understood the answer. “What about you? A little jealous?’
Bridget nodded. “Sometimes. Just a little. I loved being married, and I wasn’t ready for it to be over. I miss my husband. Sometimes I think it’s not fair. But then I realize that if Jim hadn’t died when he did, I wouldn’t have what I have now. Ladybug Farm, and you and Lindsay, and The Tasting Table and the winery and the animals and the garden and even Ida Mae … pretty much everything I’ve ever dreamed of. So yes, I’m happier than I’ve ever been, or ever expected to be … but sometimes a little sad too.”
“And that,” said Cici, touching her glass to Bridget’s, “is perfectly okay.”
“Good evening, my ladies,” said Dominic, coming up beside them. He smiled and lifted his glass to someone across the garden before adding, “Are you having a good time?”
Bridget laughed. “The important thing is, are you? This is really off the charts, isn’t it?”
“Lindsay has some amazingly generous friends,” he admitted, glancing around for the hosts, “and they know how to pick good wine. This, however …” he nodded toward the champagne fountain, “I wouldn’t drink at gunpoint.”
“It’s not that bad,” Cici said.
Bridget added, “It has bubbles, that’s all that matters. I’m so glad so many of your friends could make the trip, Dominic.”
“I think they feel like the lucky ones. Apparently there’s a waiting list for reservations at this place, except for this weekend. The guys cleared the schedule for people who were staying over after the party, and they’re providing free transportation to the Holiday Inn for the overflow.”
Cici smiled. “That’s just like them. And there’s nothing they wouldn’t do for Lindsay.”
His eyes crinkled with a smile. “Then I’m lucky to be joining the family.” He gazed over the crowd thoughtfully. “You know, next week we reall
y should schedule a meeting with Paul and Derrick to talk about coordinating some events between the winery and the B&B. Tours, tastings, pairing dinners, that sort of thing. It would be good for both businesses.”
“That’s a fabulous idea,” said Bridget, her eyes lighting up. “We could have farm-to-table dinners at The Tasting Table served with Ladybug Farm wines! Just like they used to do in the old days of Blackwell Farms.”
“Of course,” Dominic pointed out, “back then, farm-to-table was just called dinner. Who knew eating real food would turn out to be trendy one day?”
“Maybe,” Cici said with a pointed look at Bridget, “it would be better to have the meeting after the wedding. We still have an awful lot of work to do. “
“Oh,” Bridget said, remembering that she still had two walls to paint Wedgewood blue, not to mention two hundred miniature crab puffs to bake and freeze. “Oh, yes, that’s right. Food and stuff.”
Dominic said, “Come to think of it, I have to meet with the lawyer about the sales contract next week. The buyers want to do a long-distance closing so …”
“Closing?” Cici repeated. “Dominic, did you sell your house?”
He looked confused. “Didn’t Lindsay mention it?”
“That’s wonderful!” exclaimed Bridget. “We’ll help you pack. When are you bringing the horses?”
“She must’ve forgotten,” Cici said. “You know how it is with all the wedding chaos. She probably thought she’d mentioned it already. But congratulations!”
He said, “Thanks. As a matter of fact …” But his attention was caught by something over Cici’s shoulder and he smiled. “Excuse me, ladies, my lovely bride-to-be is waving me over. Someone she wants me to meet, I see. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Cici watched him go with a faint, puzzled frown. “I wonder why Lindsay didn’t tell us about the house?”
Bridget had no answer.
~*~
Eventually the band, which was as versatile as it was talented, switched to more familiar Western instruments and contemporary music, and the main patio became a dance floor. Lindsay loved to dance, and couldn’t believe her good fortune in finding a man who enjoyed it as much as she did.
“If we lived in the city we could take ballroom dance lessons,” she told Dominic.
The music was slow and easy; her arms were around his neck and his were around her waist. He bent his forehead to touch hers briefly. “I don’t want to live in the city. Do you?”
“We could go on cruises with all the other old people, only we’d be the best dancers.”
“I don’t want to go on cruises with old people. We probably should have talked about that.”
Lindsay looked up at him, smiling. “Thank you for being such a good sport about this party.”
“What’s there to be a good sport about?”
“It’s a little bizarre. Most engagement parties are all about hearts and flowers and champagne and diamonds. ”
“Boring,” he scoffed. “Besides, there was champagne. Of a sort.”
She laughed. “Anyway, thank you for being nice to my friends.”
“I like your friends. All of them. I can’t bear to think what my life would have been like if you all hadn’t moved here.”
They finished the dance in tender silence, and turned to applaud the band when it was over. Dominic said, “Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell Cici and Bridget my house had sold?”
She avoided his eyes. “Didn’t I? I could have sworn I mentioned it.” Then, “Oh, look! Harmony is reading palms. Let’s go get ours done.”
Harmony had set up a table layered in fringed scarves flanked by standing iron chandeliers, their flames bobbing and weaving in the breeze. A brass dome incense burner was centered on the table, and a stream of blue, patchouli-scented smoke curled upward from it. Cici was in the guest chair across the table from her when Lindsay and Dominic arrived, her hand extended palm up while Harmony studied it.
“And three grandchildren,” Harmony was saying, and Cici looked alarmed.
“Not anytime soon, I hope,” she said.
A small crowd had gathered and everyone laughed. Harmony just smiled complacently. “In good time,” she said. “Everything in good time.”
Then she looked up at Lindsay and exclaimed, “Oh, there’s our bride! I’ve been just dying to get my hands on you! Literally!” She extended her hand across the table to Lindsay. “Sit down, sit down. I’ll read your palm. Every woman should have her palm read before her big day.”
Lindsay had never known quite what to think about Harmony. At first she’d been concerned for her friends, who—if one were completely frank—could so easily be taken advantage of. And then she might have been a little jealous at how easily this strange woman had insinuated herself into their lives. Eventually she had confirmed that Harmony was neither a con artist nor a criminal and that, in fact, she might care as much about Paul and Derrick as Lindsay did. And despite her strangeness, Lindsay had grown to like her.
Lindsay took Cici’s seat, who sighed, “They’ll be Italian.”
“Who?”
“The grandchildren.”
Harmony made a small production of clearing her spiritual plane with elaborate hand gestures, waving the smoke around the crowd and into Lindsay’s face. Lindsay coughed a little and blinked her watering eyes, and Dominic grinned and put a hand on her shoulder. “Better you than me, sweetheart.”
Paul and Derrick joined the crowd that was watching, sipping their wine and looking cautiously pleased with how well everything was going. “Not too much?” Paul whispered to Cici.
“Not a bit,” she assured him.
Harmony cleared her throat and the show was ready to begin.
“There you go,” Harmony said appreciatively, her fingertip tickling the center of Lindsay’s palm as she traced a line. “Lovely long life line, filled with accomplishment. One marriage, early in life, very brief. One child, late in life, but hundreds of other children whose lives you changed.”
Lindsay lifted an appreciative eyebrow. “I was a teacher,” she agreed, even though she knew that Harmony had to have known that.
“Oh, look,” exclaimed Harmony, “your friendship line! You are truly blessed there.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Lindsay said.
“I see a major change in midlife,” she went on, “a grand adventure. And here, love and destiny intersect! There couldn’t be a more propitious sign for a bride. And here is the point of your union …another adventure … a sudden surprise …”
Lindsay glanced up at Dominic, eye twinkling. “Maybe I’ll get my honeymoon after all!”
“As soon as the harvest is done,” he assured her.
“What’s the surprise?” Bridget wanted to know, peering down at Lindsay’s open palm as though she could actually find the answer there.
“More grandchildren?” suggested Cici.
And someone from the back of the group suggested, “More children?”
There was a lot of laughter and teasing and adamant denials from the engaged couple, and no one except Paul noticed the way Harmony’s face changed as she stared into Lindsay’s palm. He nudged Derrick, who noticed as well and said, rather loudly, “Well, of course we all know this is just in fun. Am I right, Harmony?”
Harmony smiled quickly, but her eyes were dark and troubled for those who cared to look. “Of course,” she said. “Nothing I say is meant to be taken seriously.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Lindsay said. “I was really looking forward to that honeymoon. So what else do you see?”
Harmony’s smile faltered, and then almost by force of will, deepened. “Destiny,” she said. “The man you are about to marry is your destiny. And your marriage will bring you nothing but joy for all your life together.”
~*~
There were speeches and toasts and a few teary moments. Lindsay lingered long after the party was officially over, embracing friends and thanking Paul and Derrick over and
over. “I can’t imagine the wedding party will be any better,” she said, “I really can’t. What would I do without you? Thank you so much!”
Dominic was finally able to pull her away just as the last candle was snuffed, and before the cleanup crew started stacking chairs.
Paul and Derrick saw them safely to their car, and then walked back to the house. They found Harmony in the foyer, sipping a glass of wine and watching through the window. Her smile was quick and false when she saw them. “Well, fellows,” she declared, lifting her glass in salute, “another triumph. Well done!”
Paul said, very seriously, “What did you see in Lindsay’s palm?”
And Derrick added, “We saw your face.”
Harmony hesitated just a fraction of a second too long, and then she cast a brilliant smile at them. “Oh, please, fellows, I just make this stuff up as I go along. You know it’s all in fun.”
And both of them knew she was lying.
~*~
Lori and Kevin sat beside the fountain where they had shared their first gelato, basking in the autumn sun and absently tossing crumbs from the hard roll that remained of their lunch to the pigeons that clustered around their feet.
“Mom’s e-mail said everyone from the old days was there,” Lori said. “Imagine that. It would have been fun to see them. There were supposed to be belly dancers and sword-jumpers, but Uncle Paul nixed that. Figures. If I had been there, there would have been belly dancers. Don’t you ever miss home, Kevin?”
“In Italian, sweetie,” he reminded her.
With only a slight roll of her eyes, because she had been the one who had begged him to teach her Italian in the first place, she took out her phone and activated the app. It took her a few minutes, but she finally pieced together an Italian version of her question. Kevin frowned when he heard it.
“Let me see that thing.” He took her phone. “You just asked me if I require forgiveness for abandoning my mother.”
