One Wish (Thunder Point #7)(90)

“Right,” he said. “Good advice. I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

“You do that, Troy.”

He left and she looked back at her paperwork. She smiled. Peyton had confessed she was a little pregnant when Iris confessed she was a little pregnant. And now Grace was, too. “I guess we know what everyone was doing the first week in April,” she said softly.

* * *

Grace was looking forward to seeing Peyton and Scott’s wedding reception in the orchard but on Friday night, after putting out her table arrangements at the restaurant where the groom’s dinner was held, Grace was so happy for a quiet evening with Mamie and Ross. Although she talked to them almost every week, she had held the news of her mother’s health until she could tell them in person. Mamie and Ross had spent twenty years in Winnie’s employ. They felt much closer to Grace than to Winnie, but they immediately promised they would be visiting Winnie when she was relocated in Thunder Point.

“I’m so happy you two have reconciled,” Mamie said. “For both your sakes.”

“We are, too, Mamie. The sad truth is, if Winnie weren’t ill I don’t know if we’d have this relationship. But I’ll do my best to be sure she’s comfortable and well cared for. Winnie is making it surprisingly easy and I think Mikhail has a lot to do with it. He came immediately and is in no hurry to leave her.”

“Like your mother, he has very few people he’s tied to. For many years they kept each other close. Your mother always listened to Mikhail.”

On Saturday, Ginger borrowed her mother’s car and drove to Mamie’s shop and all of them worked together on the flowers for the wedding. They had the altar arrangements and bouquets at the church by noon and the rest were delivered to the Lacoumette farm. Then Grace went back to Mamie’s house to clean up for the four-o’clock wedding. She wore a peach dress and nude sandals she loved and wore her hair down because Troy loved it that way.

But she had not heard from Troy.

Their plan had been that he would meet her at the wedding. They would spend the night in one of the coastal inns and let Ginger take the van back to Thunder Point on Sunday while they rode together in the Jeep, but she had a sense of foreboding. Maybe in the course of all his processing he had decided that getting involved with someone like Grace had been a mistake. Grace came from a different world, a world he wasn’t comfortable even thinking about.

It could be worse, she thought. He could try to marry her for her money.

It just felt so hopeless. What could she do? Nothing. It was on him now.

When she got to the church, she was distracted for a while, chuckling to herself when she saw the parking lot. It was full of trucks, RVs, SUVs—all big vehicles, some that family members would be staying in while attending the Lacoumette wedding and reception. If they didn’t look like a band of Gypsies, she didn’t know what did. There was Peyton’s car, parked in front. She knew that Peyton had ridden to the farm with her sister and Scott was driving up here in that fancy Lexus. There were only a couple of late-model cars. These farmers and fishermen and vintners were hardworking country folks and although Grace had heard it was a very successful family, you’d never know it by looking at them. They just weren’t showy.

There was no Jeep anywhere and her heart sank.

She turned her phone to Silent, but, ever the optimist, she sat near the back of the packed church and on the aisle. If he came, he would find her.

The church was so beautiful. She hoped someone would mention the flowers, the aisle drapes, the bridal bouquets—she was so proud of them. Peyton had such good taste and when she finally walked down the aisle and all heads turned to her, she was stunning in her strapless gown. But Grace watched Scott. Even from a great distance she could see the glow in his eyes. He adored Peyton. He worshipped her. This was what every woman should have on her wedding day.

The ceremony was not long. It was an ecumenical service performed by both a Catholic priest and a protestant minister. Grace silently chuckled as she noticed some of the Basque family members whispering and she remembered that Peyton had said some would be disgruntled by her not having a mass but they wouldn’t boycott. The family disagreed often and heartily, but at the end of the day they were one for all.

A large family, Grace thought. Maybe that’s the answer to all these issues. A huge family, like the Lacoumette family, so many of them they were like countries tied together by treaties and pacts. Oh, hell, she thought. She had a hard enough time functioning in a family of two.

Peyton and Scott spoke vows they had created themselves. They were blessed by both the priest and the minister and then, after less than a half hour, they embraced passionately and cheers erupted inside the church. Down the aisle they fled, followed by their wedding party, then family and friends, out the door, where a receiving line formed and someone from the family released white doves. By Peyton’s surprised expression, she had not expected it.

No Jeep. No Troy. She would not cry.

While there were a few pictures taken in the church, most of the caravan headed back to the farm, and it was not a short drive. It was nearly an hour away from this ornate, historical church. Grace was happy to see that Ginger had decided to come to the reception.

By five they were serving wine and tapas in the reception tent and the flowers looked beautiful, as did the plentiful fruit blossoms everywhere. The band was playing and Grace noticed that some of the Basque men had changed into their native dress—trading their suits and tuxes for white pants and shirts, red vests and caps. They were getting ready to party.