Waiting On You (Blue Heron #3)(100)
* * *
THE BARN AT Blue Heron Vineyard looked incredible this night, the sky a beautiful slate blue, fairy lights in the trees, and the flowers! Hydrangeas everywhere, and ivory roses—Laura Boothby had outdone herself. Candles flickered, and the wine-bottle light sconces glowed, and it was so romantic and beautiful that Colleen found herself getting choked up.
Good for Honor, going all out for her wedding. She deserved it...all those years of living with her dad, holding down the fort and running the corporate end of Blue Heron Vineyard. Most of the town did business with Honor, who would make a fine president if the mood ever struck, and everyone had a soft spot for Tom, the transplanted Brit who was so devoted to Charlie, the teenager who was his best man. Especially her own self, who had met Tom his first night in town this past winter. Sure enough, Tom gave her a grin and a wave.
Aha! Connor was talking to Jessica Dunn. “Hey, Jess!” Colleen said. “Are you Connor’s mystery woman? If so, we should talk.”
“Hail Mary, full of grace,” Connor muttered.
“It’s nice to see you, too, Colleen,” Jess said drily.
“That’s a yes, isn’t it? I knew it. Listen. I’ll make a great sister-in-law, you can put that in the plus column to help balance out Connor’s many flaws. And I want you to know I’ve been dropping hints about you for years.”
“We’re not dating,” Jess said.
“Damn!” Colleen said. “Well, you have my blessing if you change your mind. Just saying.”
They took a seat close to the front; Jessica worked at Blue Heron, after all.
And so did Mom. All the Blue Heron staff, full-and part-time, had been invited, but Mom “had plans.” And plans probably meant something with Dad. Something icky.
She hadn’t told Connor about their parents in a rare episode of twin secrecy. First of all, he’d be furious. Secondly...well, she kind of hoped this was a flash in the pan. Mom would sort it out and realize Dad was still...still...whatever.
But of course, Colleen could relate.
How many people want another chance with their first love?
Speaking of first loves... She stood on her tiptoes and scanned the crowd.
“Looking for me?” came that voice. Busted.
“No. I’m looking for Mr. Holland. I’ve been in love with him since I was eight.” She turned, her breath stopping. “You look unfairly handsome, Spaniard,” she said, and yes, her voice shook a little.
He didn’t answer, just let his gaze drift down her body, then back up, his eyes dark as...as...as coffee or something, she wasn’t doing too well in the rational thought department. Suffice it to say, one look from him was reducing her to a puddle.
He took her hand and kissed it. Soon, Colleen thought, she’d be dead of lust. And what a way to go.
They took a seat with the other guests. Tom and Charlie stood up at the front with Reverend Fisk and a shorter, older version of Tom who must be his dad, all the way from England.
Then the music started, Jack Holland walked Mrs. Johnson down the aisle, and the bridesmaids followed—Faith, Pru and Pru’s daughter, all looking beautiful in shades of lavender.
And then came Honor on her father’s arm, and Colleen glanced at Tom. It was her favorite thing to do, to see the groom’s face when he first saw his bride, and Tom did not disappoint. He looked stunned, then covered his mouth with one hand, and, bless him, welled up. Charlie, his best man, put his arm around Tom’s shoulders and smiled.
Honor looked amazing, and Colleen felt a little proud of that, having done her makeup earlier that afternoon. She glowed, she really did, smiling at Tom, those nice dimples of hers. She looked so in love that tears came to Colleen’s eyes, too. And her dress was fantastic—an ivory, Regency-style gown, utterly romantic and soft, unstructured, flowing softly to her toes. She wore her mom’s pearls, Honor’s trademark jewelry, and matching earrings, all very subtle and classic and lovely. And hey! She was barefoot, her pink-polished toes peeping out from underneath the dress. Very nice touch, Coll had to admit.
Then Mr. Holland kissed the bride and shook Tom’s hand, wiped his own eyes and sat down, and the ceremony began.
Lucas held her hand throughout, and try as she might, Colleen couldn’t help a few wedding thoughts of her own. Marriage thoughts, even better—the ordinary, wonderful days that she and Lucas could have...maybe in that little stone house Carol had mentioned the other day, waking up late on a Sunday morning, making French toast and drinking coffee on the slate patio. A black-haired baby or three. It would be so wonderful.
Then Tom kissed his wife and the crowd cheered.
All night long, Lucas was a perfect date. They didn’t talk about Bryce and Paulie, which was nice, him not pointing out that he’d been right all along. He flirted with her, kept giving her those hot Latin looks. He danced with her (not the paso doble, as Colleen suggested, making him laugh, but he was pretty good nonetheless).
“How’s Joe doing?” she asked as they danced to Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World.” “I saw him at the hospital the other day.”
Lucas’s eyes darkened. “Not too well. The cancer’s pretty fast-moving.”
Her eyes grew wet. “I’m so sorry.”
“It doesn’t look like he’ll get to divorce Didi.”
He’d told her about that. Five attorneys had said the same thing. Colleen put her head against his shoulder. Poor Lucas, about to lose someone else. “You know what you should do?” she said, pulling back to look at him. “Threaten her reputation. She’d hate for anyone to know Joe wanted a divorce, even if he couldn’t get one. Especially Bryce. Maybe she’d do it if you said you’d keep it quiet. She could spin it however she wanted after he...passes away.”