by Gina LaManna
“Why don’t you stay here a bit longer?”
“And do what? Let Nora baby me? Have Anthony’s trainees watch over me like adolescent hawks, ensuring I don’t do anything rash?” She shook her head. “No, it’s best if I just get away, get out of my head. I’m thinking a beach somewhere. Get a few drinks, lay in the sun—”
“Drive yourself crazy.” I knelt next to her and rested a hand on her wrist. “You’ll go nuts sitting on the beach having nothing to do but think all day. You’re like me. You need to be busy, keep active, have a purpose.”
“Usually, I’d agree with you.” She looked up at me, her face worn. “But not now. I’m just tired, and I’m done. I just want to get some rest and be alone.”
I swallowed, nodding. “I understand, I really do. But if you get lonely, or need a distraction, promise me you’ll come back here. Everyone here cares about you and wants to help.”
“Nobody understands. Nobody even knows.”
“I know, and Anthony knows. Nora and Meg. It’s a small group, but the quality is the best you’ll ever have.”
She dropped the shirt she’d been holding and clasped my hand in hers. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”
I stood, looking around the huge party room. “Well, at least let me help you get packed. Who knows? Maybe we’ll run into you on your travels—we might both end up on the same island somewhere sipping cocktails.”
“I hope not!” Alessandra winked. “I do not want to end up on my brother’s honeymoon in any capacity.”
I laughed, and it felt good. Alessandra grinned back, and we set to packing. I was folding a pair of socks when something hanging from the ceiling fan caught my eye. “How did your tube top get stuck up there?”
“One crazy bachelorette party, huh?”
I gave her a look. “If only people knew.”
Chapter 32
“Don’t let anybody in,” I instructed Meg, holding the door shut with her next to me. “I’m not ready for this.”
“What aren’t you ready for?” Meg met my gaze. “You’ve already had a trial run, except your trial run wasn’t a fake, it was the real deal. This is the encore. You and Anthony you got a standing ovation on your first wedding, so now you’re back. This time, you even had your makeup done instead of slapping on some mascara in the bathroom.”
“Meg.”
“Chickadee, you have no reason to be nervous. Everything will go as planned, I promise.”
“How can you promise that?”
“You’re right, I can’t, but it sounds good.” Meg smiled, but at my tense gaze, she let the facade drop and sighed. “What’s bothering you?”
I blinked back tears. “I’m just...I’m emotional. And I don’t know why.”
“Hormones, honey. You’re pregnant.”
I looked down at my bouquet and a few big fat tears slipped down my cheeks. They plopped onto the beautiful white rose like exquisite drops of dew. Very salty dew.
“I’m happy,” I said. “I’m just so happy.”
“Good, good,” Meg said, but her voice betrayed her confusion. “So why the tears?”
She ran a hand down my arm, but stopped at the thin bandage over my injury. I could’ve gone without, but the bandage looked better than the wound beneath, at least for now.
“My arm doesn’t hurt,” I choked out. “But it looks weird. And so do my eyebrows.”
“No, they don’t,” Meg said. Her eyes flicked toward where Bartholomew had tried to cover them up with skilled pencil work. As promised, Nora had sent him along to prepare me this morning, and he’d done the best job he could. Even so, he wasn’t magic. “You look beautiful.”
The two of us were in the back room with the door bolted from inside. The rest of the women were waiting just beyond for the word, but I wasn’t ready to face the music. My hands shook so thoroughly I feared my bouquet would be bald by the time I reached the altar.
“Let Nora in here,” Meg said. “She really wants to see you.”
I inhaled a breath, dabbed away the tears, and nodded. “Okay. How do I look?”
“Beautiful. More beautiful than the last time you got married, and I thought that would be impossible.” Meg stepped toward me, arms outstretched. “This is just about you and Anthony marching up there, announcing to the world that you’re committed to each other which—shocker, we all already know—and then tossing your bouquet.”
“It’s more than that.”
“Of course it is,” Meg said, carefully watching me. “But we’re all here for you, and we’re never leaving. Sorry, it’s just not happening. You don’t have to be nervous about anything because we’ll be there looking fabulous right next to you.”
Meg did look quite fabulous in her dress. I’d let all of the women pick their own dress in varying shades of pastel yellow. Hers slid over her figure, accenting her curves, then pooled like liquid gold on the floor at her feet. She was a showstopper in the gown.
My bouquet matched, made from sunflowers and pristine white roses. The cakes were also decorated in varying shades of pastels, all bright and sunny and full of spring.
Though the cakes may be intricate and over the top, the dress we’d eventually decided upon was a simple, custom-made design—a dress handmade from a fabulous Italian designer, a gift from Lizabeth after we’d solved The Violet Society mystery of Milan.
Fitting, in a way, I thought, as I smoothed the fluffy chiffon down over the slim-fitting white slip. It’d been designed just days after meeting and befriending Beckett, and now the dress had returned on the eve of his funeral.
The dress itself had been pieced together with delicate, gauzy straps meeting at my shoulders, a fun, flirty dress with a wash of elegance. Meg had attempted to attack it with a glitter-gun, but thankfully, Nora had re-directed her toward the invitations. Our invitations had sparkled like the sun.
I chanced a look in the mirror as Meg headed to open the door and surprised myself. There was an elegance there, despite the missing eyebrows, that I hadn’t anticipated. A princess-like quality thanks to tiny glittering gem at my neck, the dangling chandelier earrings that sparkled on either side of my face.
All that was missing was the smile to match.
“Oh, Lacey.” Nora moved into the room, silently, as Meg closed the door from the outside and left us alone. My grandmother stopped behind me, watching me in the mirror. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I said, and finally the overdue smile arrived. “For everything. Without you, I wouldn’t be here today.”
“You’re missing one thing.” Nora’s hands trembled as she removed a small box from behind her back. She herself looked beautiful in a bright pink dress with a stunning corsage on her wrist. “Here. I’ve saved it for a very long time.”
I took the small box, adorned with patina, and kept it between my palms. “For me?”
Nora blinked rapidly, and then cleared her throat. “Now, yes. Originally, it was for your mother.”
The lump in my throat grew. I held on to the box tighter and tighter, until I needed to focus my attention elsewhere, or I’d cry.
I popped open the box, determined to hold myself together. Inside were two beautifully round, impossibly tiny diamonds. They sparkled against the light just so, and I lost my breath trying to thank her.
“They were the ones I wore on my wedding day, you know,” Nora said, her hands circling my wrists. “Carlos and I eloped, as I’ve said. We were hardly adults at the time, so young and silly and in love.”
“But look how well it worked out.”
“I hope, if nothing else, that you know as much happiness in your marriage as I have in mine. Carlos is...” Nora rested a hand on her chest, took a breath. “He’s many things, but he’s always been my husband first. He’s always put me first, and I know Anthony will do the same for you.”
“I know he will.”
“I wish she could be here today to see you.” Nora’s voice cut through the air like a sharp blade. “
You look just like her, you know.”
I gave the smallest of laughs. “I hope not. That doesn’t say much for her eyebrows.”
“She would be so proud of you. We all are. Your father, Carlos, me—your friends, all of us. Try to have a nice time today. Don’t let everything happen so fast that you don’t have time to enjoy it.”
“Were you nervous?”
“To get married?” Nora shook her head, her eyes crinkled with memory. “No, I was too naive to be nervous. I was so sure of it that we rushed into things, and after I had the ring on my finger I wondered what in the hell I’d gotten myself into.”
I spluttered a laugh, smiling at the image. “But clearly—”
“Clearly, it was the best decision I’ve ever made. Sometimes, when you know, you just know.”
“I know.”
“Good.” Nora turned suddenly more chipper, then reached for my shoulder and squeezed. “Because you have nothing to worry about, dear. This is your second time around, isn’t it?”
I turned into a fish, opening and closing my mouth. “What?”
“Honey, I’m married to the man who knows everything. Don’t you think I’ve picked up a few tricks over the years? I eloped myself, you know.”
“Nora, I—”
“Thank you. For doing this, all of this, for me. You didn’t have to, but I so very much wanted to be a part of your day.” Nora reached up and patted my cheek. “You and Anthony are two people in love. Who was I to stop you from getting married when you were ready? I’m just grateful for the opportunity to celebrate it as a family.”
Some more gasping and maybe a squeak from me. Stunned.
Nora leaned over and patted my stomach, speaking to the baby. “Not that mommy and daddy haven’t already celebrated some, right, Little L?” Then she stood and met my gaze with a grin. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
At my utterly blank smile, she shrugged. “Oh, come on. I’m not as ancient as I may look.”
“Apparently not.”
“Promise me that you’ll have a great time out there,” Nora said, grasping my hands in hers. “For me, for your mother—for all of us who didn’t have the ceremony we wanted. Don’t worry, I’ll still cry. I’ve been saving these tears forever, gosh darn it, and they’re going to come out.”
Nora left the room then, and my heart pounded hard. I forced my hands to steady as I lifted the tiny earrings from their box and replaced my now-gaudy looking chandelier diamonds.
They were perfect.
And, I thought, as I chanced one last look in the mirror, a hint of my mother shined through the mirror back at me. I touched the earrings, took one deep breath, and made my way to the back of the cathedral to marry my husband...again.
Chapter 33
The view before me was, if nothing else, majestic. A sweeping grand ceiling spread above us in faded whites, the edges lined by bits of gold and splashes of color. Stained glass windows punctuated the walls, images within depicting stories of old.
“This is a little bit different than last time, huh?” Meg asked, as the cavernous room filled
with the first sounds of organ music. A pre-wedding introductory song as the last of the ushers seated guests in the pews. Clothes shuffled, whispers filtered back, and the sweet scent of flowers hung faint in the air.
“There she is,” Vivian said, turning to face me. “Look at her, Joey. Just look at her.” Vivian looped her arm around his. “Doesn’t this bring back all sorts of fond memories from our wedding in Vegas? If Lacey were wearing sparkles, I swear it would be déjà vu.”
“Yeah,” Meg said. “Except there’s no bomb in her dress this time and, oh yeah, it’s Lacey’s wedding.”
“You look beautiful,” Joey huffed, trying to sound all tough guy as he coughed his way through the compliment. His attitude was significantly overshadowed by the crack in his voice. “Gorgeous, Lace.”
“Where are the rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen?” I looked around the back of the church, but it was decidedly quiet. “And Marissa and Clarissa?”
“Here they come,” Meg said, nodding behind me. “I’ll bet you they were trying to sneak a peek at your cakes.”
“Probably not,” I said. “But—”
“Lacey?” the almost-twins asked in uniform. “You look...”
“—really pretty.”
“You should wear your hair like that—”
“—everyday. Where did you get your—”
“—earrings? And what happened to your eyebrows?”
Marissa and Clarissa talked over one another so fast that I could barely keep up with them. I wasn’t sure if any of it was a compliment, so I mostly just smiled and nodded as they spoke rapid fire. Meg stepped up to the plate and answered all of the questions for me.
“Her hair always looks good, and her earrings are very special,” Meg started. “Don’t you know not to bring up a bride’s flaws on her wedding day?”
My fingers shot to my eyebrows. “I thought you said they looked fine.”
“I said you looked fine, darling.”
I sucked in a breath and looked wildly around me for any sort of reflective surface to check my face for the zillionth time, but Meg’s hands came to rest on my shoulders as she told me to breathe.
“You look beautiful—eyebrows or no eyebrows,” Meg said gently. “And just think. If Anthony’s marrying you without your eyebrows, he’s definitely in this for the long haul.”
“Gee, thanks—”
“I think her eyebrows, and her face, and everything else are stunning.” Harold arrived next, appearing at my shoulder and raising an eyebrow at Meg. He then stepped between us and took my fingers daintily in his. “I mean it, Lacey. You look beautiful, and I’m honored to be a part of your day.”
“Harold...” Surprisingly, I found my throat a little congested with emotion. “You were one of the only people who liked me from the beginning. When I first came to the estate. You’ve always been there for me, and I really appreciate it.”
Harold cleared his throat, twice, before responding. “It’s an honor and a privilege to serve the Luzzi family. May your marriage last as long as my tenure with Carlos.”
Meg’s jaw dropped. “Holy guacamole. You’ve basically been married to Carlos for what...fifty years?”
“Never guess a butler’s age,” Harold chastised.
“He didn’t deny the marriage part,” Meg whispered, but when I shot her a glare, she changed the subject. “Fine, but you should be aware your cousin is behind you, and he’s going to be a mess. A big, blubbering mess.”
“I heard that,” Clay snapped from behind me. “I’m not a big, blubber—” He stopped as I turned around, then blinked rapidly a few times as he caught his first full look at me. “I’m not a blubber—”
Again, his profession of not being a big, blubbering mess wasn’t working so well. I reached out and brushed an imaginary piece of lint off his shoulder in order to keep my own cool. “You’re not a big blubber.”
Meg snorted behind me, but when Clay looked up at her, she slunk away to whisper with Vivian and Joey.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I told him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, that’s the problem.” Clay sounded almost annoyed. “Everything’s right, but I don’t have to like it.”
“Clay—”
“I miss you, Lacey.”
“What?” I stepped closer, my hand falling away from the imaginary piece of lint. “I’m right here. I see you about three times a week.”
“I know, but that’s not how things used to be.” Clay crossed his arms and bit his lip, staring up at the ceiling. “It used to be me and you against the family. Remember when you first met Anthony? You thought he was out to kill you.”
“Oh yeah! I thought he’d been the one who’d shot at our apartment.”
“Right, and injured me.”
“Clay, you had a papercut or something. You just made it sound like you’d
gotten shot.”
“It still stung.”
“Okay, okay, you’re right. And now—”
“Now, it’s you and Anthony, and you and Meg, and even you and Nora have your own thing. Heck, even you and Carlos have some weird sort of enemy to friendship truce. But what about me and you?”
I was speechless. I hadn’t thought all that much about how Clay had felt during this whole thing because he’d had changes, too. He’d picked up a girlfriend, made buddies with Horatio, and babysat Arnold and Bobert. Never in a million years had I thought he’d actually miss me.
“I always thought I bored you, or annoyed you,” I said. “Or, I don’t know, held you back from all of your smart things.”
“I wouldn’t have smart things to do if you didn’t do dumb things in the first place!”
“What?”
“If you didn’t go out looking for criminals, or getting yourself shot at, or putting yourself in precarious situations, what would I do with my days? Play the stock market? Program something online? Come on, Lacey. Without you mucking up your life, my life is boring.”
“Oh, um. Thank you?”
“It’s a symbiotic relationship. You and me against Carlos, against the bad guys. Whenever you thought Anthony was mad at you, where did you go? Home. To our home. Our apartment. When you found our family and Carlos turned out to be...uh—” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Not the old and comforting grandfather you thought you’d find, where did you go?”
“I still go to you all the time, Clay. I came to you for help with Beckett’s death. I have come to you with every single thing I’ve ever done...you know, within reason. This isn’t the end of us.”
“Well, sometimes it feels like it.”
“I thought you’d like living with Meg. Is something wrong?”
“No, no. Not at all. You’re missing the point. I’m just saying that—”
“I know what you’re saying.” I tried hard not to cry and ruin my makeup. “We had some really great times together. We had...have, sort of, a cat together. I loved that apartment, and I still do. I miss it all the time.”
