Vintage Ladybug Farm

by Donna Ball

  Noah actually completed his college applications and got them in the mail—before, unfortunately, allowing Lindsay to proofread his essay. Though the promise of a second job appeared to be the incentive he needed to complete the essay, he didn’t seem too disappointed when the job at the church went to someone else before he could apply for it. When school started again, he got caught up in the basketball schedule and the usual senior class mania, working after school at the hardware store in town, and seeing Amy on the weekends. He didn’t win the rodeo tickets—Amy did—but with such an overage of stored-up Bible verses, the scripture quoting did not slow down much. Lindsay admitted to Cici and Bridget privately that, even though she felt guilty for it, she was relieved when weeks went by and Noah didn’t mention anything about considering a calling to the ministry. Bridget, apparently, had been wrong.

  Dominic had become even more of a fixture around the house than he was before, and sometimes he spent the afternoons with Lindsay in her studio, helping her sketch out what he remembered of the tasting room mural. Other times, Lindsay would walk with him through the vineyard, helping him check the dormant vines. Dominic had a small house and a couple of acres nearby, complete with horses, a dog, and a garden. On weekends he sometimes took Lindsay trail riding, and if the day wasn’t too cold, they packed a picnic. He became a regular at Sunday dinner and always brought an interesting wine for them to taste.

  Lori decided on a theme for her wedding—vineyard—which came as a surprise to no one, and had set a definite date: Tuesday, September 10 at 2:00 p.m. She still hadn’t chosen her attendants, flowers, a color scheme, or invitations. She hadn’t registered anywhere. However, she had made plans to come this weekend while Paul was here to look at wedding gown sketches. That was huge.

  In fact, everything at Ladybug Farm was going smoothly for the first time since they moved in. Everything except one.

  “I see you’re making progress on the roof,” Derrick observed as they returned home from the photo shoot.

  The damage to the roof had expanded from a one-tarp job to one requiring three tarps when the roofers began to tear off the clay tiles that were such a decorative part of the old house’s appeal and discovered water damage that appeared to have accumulated over a quarter of a century. Weather delays—and the fact that the roofing crew appeared to be unable to work more than two hours a day or two days in a row—had resulted in the bright blue roofing tarp becoming a more or less permanent feature of their front entrance.

  “Don’t get me started,” Cici said.

  “Don’t get her started,” agreed Bridget, carrying in a tray of coffee and cups from the kitchen. Ida Mae followed with a basket of cinnamon rolls that filled the room with the aroma of cinnamon and yeast.

  “Ida Mae, you are an angel!” declared Derrick, reaching for the basket.

  She twisted away from him, sheltering the basket with her arm and looking at him suspiciously. “I thought you was a on a diet.”

  “It’s worth dying for,” he assured her, “if the last thing I taste is this bit of heaven on earth. Besides, cinnamon is great for the cholesterol.”

  “I could have rebuilt the entire roof by now,” Cici said, beginning to fume. “By myself.”

  “Which is one thing we’re really trying to avoid.” Lindsay flipped up the sections of the pie table beside the fireplace in the parlor, and Bridget set the tray on it. Ida Mae, still regarding Derrick suspiciously, followed with the cinnamon rolls.

  Paul came into the room carrying a bottle of Montrachet decorated with a red bow and a huge heart-shaped box of chocolates wrapped in pink satin. “Happy Valentine’s Day, girls!” he declared, and kissed each of them on the cheek while they exclaimed over the chocolates. “And thanks for your hospitality once again.”

  “Are you kidding? The worst thing about having you move here is that you won’t be staying with us anymore.”

  “And bringing presents,” added Lindsay, eagerly opening the candy. “Are there any red ones?”

  “Red whats?” asked Derrick, watching her lift the layer separator to search the bottom chocolates.

  “Candies,” explained Bridget, pouring coffee. “Today is her red day.”

  “She’s on the color wheel diet,” explained Cici. “You can only eat one color of food each day, and every day is a different color.”

  Paul nodded sagely, accepting the cup of coffee Bridget offered. “Perfectly appropriate for an artist.”

  “Today is the red day.”

  “Aha,” said Derrick. “Beets, apples, rutabagas …”

  “And cherries!” exclaimed Lindsay, triumphantly holding up a chocolate-covered cherry.

  Cici held out her hand. “I’ll take the chocolate. You keep the cherry.”

  Looking a little disappointed, Lindsay handed over the candy. “At least the wine is red.”

  The two men watched in fascination as Cici peeled off the chocolate layer and returned the cherry to Lindsay. “So how’s it working for you?” Derrick asked.

  Lindsay shrugged and popped the cherry into her mouth. “I’ve gained three pounds.” She passed the box of chocolates to Bridget.

  “You look like a goddess to me,” declared Paul gallantly, and she blew him a kiss.

  Bridget selected a chocolate and passed the box to Ida Mae. She took it with a sniff of disapproval. “Eating candy this time of day. You got no more sense than a bunch of young’uns.” Nonetheless, she searched the box until she found a candy whose size and shape appealed to her, and while she did, Derrick helped himself to a cinnamon roll.

  “Umm,” Bridget said, biting into her chocolate. “Amaretto.”

  “Might’ve known there’d be booze in it,” observed Ida Mae darkly. She bit into a chocolate and handed the box to Cici.

  Bridget passed Derrick a cup of coffee. “You should call our builder about your roof,” Derrick told Cici, digging a card out of his pocket before he sat down. “He’s supposed to be one of the best in the county.”

  Cici licked the last of the chocolate off her fingers and studied the card. “Hmm.” She passed the card to Bridget. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of him. That must be because he’s fair, honest, and skilled. We prefer to deal with overpriced liars who don’t know what they’re doing.”

  Bridget rolled her eyes. “I told you not to get her started.”

  “We must have talked to twenty different contractors,” Paul told her, “and he was the only one who would even talk about taking on the job. He wasn’t stumped by anything, either—the pool, the sauna, the bathtub on the balcony …”

  Bridget lifted her eyebrows. “You’re putting your bathtub on the balcony?”

  Paul nodded, reaching for a cinnamon roll. “There’s a balcony off the master bath just big enough for a claw foot tub. It’s very Fiji-esque.”

  “Not to mention picturesque,” added Derrick. “We’re going to glaze it green, with gold-leaf claw feet. Sitting up there amidst all those trees … a slice of heaven.”

  “We got the idea from a picture in Architectural Digest.”

  “Craziest damn fool thing I ever heard of,” Ida Mae said. “Y’all are gonna freeze up there in the winter.”

  Her steel-toed boots clomped their disapproval on the way out—pausing only once to select another chocolate—and Paul and Derrick just grinned at each other.

  Bridget slipped the card into one of the drawers of the escritoire that stood beside the door to the parlor. “She’s got a point.”

  “Did you bring the wedding gown sketches?” Cici asked Paul. “Lori said she’d be here by ten.” She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. “Which of course means she’ll be here by lunch.”

  “I did better,” Paul said, wiping his fingers on a napkin as he stood. “I brought samples.”

  “Why did Lori choose Valentine’s Day weekend to look at wedding dress sketches?” Derrick asked as Paul went to the foyer to retrieve the samples. “Don’t she and Mark have a romantic evening planned? They�
��re not fighting, are they?”

  “She said they had their Valentine’s Day early,” Cici replied. “Mark gave her a dozen roses and a teddy bear with a diamond necklace around its neck.”

  “Nice,” said Derrick with an appreciative lift of his eyebrow. He reached for another cinnamon roll and Bridget discreetly nudged the basket out of his reach.

  “They never fight,” she said. “They’re far too practical.”

  “What do they have to fight about?” Derrick observed. “He’s giving her diamonds and they’re not even out of college yet. What a world we live in.”

  “Bottom line,” Lindsay said, rummaging in the chocolate box for another cherry, “Mark had to study this weekend and Lori’s mother has been driving her crazy about getting the wedding plans started, so …”

  “I have not been driving her crazy.”

  “Her words, not mine.”

  “Anyway,” Cici said, “I think the real reason she’s coming down is to see Dominic about something. Why, I don’t know. She talks to him more often than she does to me. Whatever. I’m just glad to have her within lassoing distance. If I have to tie her to a chair … Oh, my.”

  Heads turned in the direction of her gaze and all three women caught their breaths as Paul unzipped the garment bag he carried with a flourish, and a virtual cornucopia of white lace and satin spilled out. Derrick took the opportunity to refill his coffee and help himself to a second cinnamon roll.

  “One of the often-overlooked perks of being an award-winning style columnist syndicated in every major newspaper in the country and six magazines,” Paul admitted modestly as he extracted the bridal gowns, one by glorious one. “I also brought seventeen back issues of Bride magazine and a complete guide to color selection from The Knot.com. Wipe your fingers, ladies,” he admonished as the three women descended on the gowns with muffled exclamations of delight. “They won’t take them back with chocolate stains.”

  “This one,” exclaimed Cici, snatching up a frothy confection of chiffon and ribbons.

  “No, this one.” Bridget chose a high-necked sheath covered in lace with a thousand fabric buttons down the back. “Very Kate Middleton.” She held it up to herself for inspection.

  Lindsay selected a strapless, brocaded bodice gown with a dropped-waist A-line skirt that fell into a modest bell train. “This,” she said, fitting it around her torso, “is Lori.”

  Everyone smiled at her. “Try it on,” Cici urged.

  Lindsay protested, but not very hard. Ten minutes later, they all gathered at the bottom of the stairs as she descended, her hair upswept to show off her bare shoulders, the ivory fabric shaping her long waist and flaring to the perfect train behind her. Bridget applauded, and Cici pressed her clasped hands to her lips, beaming.

  “You’re a vision!” Derrick declared, while Paul hurried up the stairs to adjust the fall of the train.

  “Look how big my boobs are!” she exclaimed, grinning. “Who knew?”

  “Exactly what I want for my daughter on her wedding day,” replied Cici. “Gigantic boobs spilling out of her dress.”

  “It’s all in the cut of the gown,” Paul explained.

  “I could only zip it up half way,” Lindsay added. “If I turn around you’ll see my bra.”

  “Especially designed to enhance boobage,” Paul pointed out. “It goes with the dress.”

  “That’s okay,” Bridget said beaming. “Lori is two sizes smaller than you. She’ll look like a princess in it.” Ignoring Lindsay’s small frown, she looked a little closer. “Wait a minute. Is that a Vera Wang?”

  “But of course,” Paul replied, fussing with the train.

  “Paul, we can’t afford a Vera Wang!” Cici said, dismayed.

  Paul peeked around Lindsay. “What part of ‘sample’ did you not understand, sweetness? I can get this for a steal, if this is the one our princess chooses. And …” he stood back to critique his work, “why wouldn’t she?”

  Cici glanced at Bridget, and a secret smile tugged at her lips. “She would look like a princess, wouldn’t she?”

  “I don’t know.” Lindsay tugged uncomfortably at the top of the dress. “Now I’m starting to think you’re right. Maybe this bra is too much.”

  “You look gorgeous,” Derrick assured her from the bottom of the stairs, “bra or no bra.”

  “I’ll say.” Another male voice joined the murmurs of agreement, and Lindsay looked up from tugging at the bodice to see Dominic standing at the arched entrance that led to the dining room. He held a potted plant of some sort in his hand, and his expression was both bemused and appreciative. “Is there something I should know?”

  Lindsay reached behind her to grasp the two parts of her dress, exclaiming “Dominic! I didn’t know you were here. I was just helping Lori pick a dress … I mean, helping Cici help Lori pick a dress …”

  Bridget turned to Dominic, smiling as she gestured to the plant he held. “What’s this?”

  It took him a moment to pull his attention away from Lindsay. “Umm, it’s a rose bush. I forced the buds so it should bloom the rest of the winter in your sunroom. You can plant it as soon as the ground warms up.”

  “How sweet,” Cici exclaimed, extending her hands for it. There was a teasing twinkle in her eyes as she lowered her voice a fraction and added, “But you really don’t have to court us all, Dominic. Bridget and I already like you.”

  “So do we,” volunteered Derrick, deadpan. “Don’t we, Paul?”

  “Well, that depends,” replied Paul, peeking around Lindsay. “What kind of rose is it?”

  The corner of Dominic’s mouth turned down dryly, proving he could take a joke. “The kind a man gives to the lady he’s hoping to take to dinner on Valentine’s Day.”

  Lindsay drew a breath for a reply, but Paul interceded with a disapproving look. “You’re asking her to dinner at ten in the morning? On Valentine’s Day? I doubt very much she’s available.”

  Lindsay spared Paul a quick scowl and a little backwards kick with her bare foot.

  Dominic held the plant up toward Lindsay. “I know how you enjoy your rose garden,” he said. “I grafted this last fall from American Beauty stock with two different floribundas. It has a blossom that’s almost the color of your hair. So I’m calling it the Lindsay rose.”

  “Now that,” admitted Paul, “is what I call a romantic gesture. Maybe she’s available for dinner after all.”

  A faint pleased flush came to Lindsay’s cheeks when he said that, and it made Dominic smile. Lindsay started down the stairs, but Paul caught a handful of fabric in his fist, holding her back. “Bra,” he reminded her.

  She tugged away from him, and with one hand pulling at the front of the dress and the other holding it together in back, she came down the stairs. When she reached Dominic, he said softly, “Now that is a pretty sight.” Lindsay started to reach for the flower with her left hand and then with her right and was saved from an embarrassing slip of fabric when Bridget stepped in and scooped the plant from Dominic’s hands.

  “I’ll put it in the sunroom,” she said.

  “That was nice,” Lindsay told him. “I never had a rose named after me before.”

  “And I think that’s a crime,” Dominic replied.

  They stood smiling at each other for a moment, and everyone else stood watching them indulgently, until Cici cleared her throat and stepped forward purposefully.

  “Come have some coffee while Lindsay changes.” Cici slipped her arm through Dominic’s and turned him toward the parlor. “We didn’t hear you drive up.”

  Lindsay cast her a grateful look and turned to hurry up the stairs, while Paul gallantly spread his arms to shield her bare back.

  “I probably should have called first,” Dominic said, “but I got a text from Lori asking me to meet her here at ten. She’s awfully excited about something. I figured she cleared it with you.”

  “You text,” observed Cici with an admiring expression. “I’ve got to learn how to do that.”<
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  “Where are you taking Lindsay for dinner?” Derrick asked.

  “Wherever it is, I hope they serve red food,” added Bridget, returning. Then, “Lori just drove up.”

  Cici’s eyebrows flew to her bangs. “What do you know about that? She’s on time!”

  Lori blew in on a gust of cold damp air, swirling off her rain cape, tossing aside her hat, and leaving puddles wherever she moved. “Every time I come home it rains,” she announced cheerfully. “Why isn’t the roof fixed yet?”

  There was a flurry of activity while she dropped her overnight bag in the foyer, distributed kisses all around, and relayed Mark’s greetings. Cici hung up her cape, Paul carried her bag upstairs, and Lindsay, now dressed again in sweater and jeans, begged Lori to come and try on the gown she’d just taken off.

  “In a minute,” Lori promised. Her eyes were shining with a secret delight as she slipped the strap of her oversized tapestry messenger bag off her shoulder and placed it carefully on the ottoman. “First I have something to show you. We need a corkscrew. And Ida Mae.”

  “Two phrases I never thought I’d hear uttered together,” observed Derrick.

  Cici held up her hands in protest as Lori, with a flourish, pulled a bottle of wine from her bag. “Lori, you’re not going to open that now, are you? How long does it need to breathe, anyway?”