THE MORNING OF Emily and Jack’s wedding dawned with a blue sky lavishly brushed with pink and orange, creating a dramatic backdrop for the fiery red and gold and orange leaves of the poplars and maples and birch trees scattered across the farm and along the riverbank. It was one of those mornings that tricked a person into believing winter was in the distant future.
Annie stood on the back veranda with her hands wrapped around her favorite coffee mug, inhaling the scented steam between sips. The early morning air had an autumn crispness to it, but the afternoon forecast was for warm, late-summer sunshine. This was hands down her favorite time of day. It always started with a cup of coffee, sometimes two, which she savored while the rest of the house still slumbered. She used this time to plan her day, making mental to-do lists of all the things she intended to accomplish.
Today, however, was different. She felt oddly out of sorts and couldn’t quite put her finger on why.
Emily had planned everything down to the last detail, and then she had typed it all into her laptop and printed it. The master list was now on the fridge door, held there by a magnet that read, “I Do!” The magnet had been tucked into the bridal shower gift—a pair of his-and-hers coffee mugs—that Libby had given to Emily.
Annie had committed Emily’s entire list to memory. The photographer would arrive at eight thirty to record every aspect of the day. Having photographs of the bride eating breakfast and the crew setting up the big outdoor tent and tables for the reception seemed excessive to Annie. Emily insisted on capturing every moment. She intended to blog about every one of them, and her huge readership no doubt expected it.
At eleven o’clock the bride and her three sisters were having their hair done at the Clip ’n’ Curl in town. Back to the farm by twelve thirty for lunch. Annie had baked bread yesterday. This morning she would whip up an egg salad for sandwiches, and there was strudel for dessert.
At one o’clock, forty white folding chairs would be assembled by the gazebo on the riverbank, each with a sweeping blue bow tied to the back. The rest of the afternoon would be taken up with makeup and manicures and “sister stuff,” as CJ called it. Their father had been tasked with keeping Isaac occupied and out of mischief, and keeping him clean after he was dressed in his tuxedo. At four o’clock, the wedding party would climb the steps of the gazebo to the exact spot where Jack had proposed to Emily, and the ceremony would begin.
Throughout the planning and preparation, Annie had tried not to think about her own wedding day. This morning, though, she found it impossible to keep the memories at bay. Maybe that’s what had her feeling a little blue. They were happy memories and she wanted to keep them separate from the grief of losing her husband, her high-school sweetheart, her son’s father. Now, with the sun-lightened sky and the first sounds of morning spreading around her, she slowly opened her mind to their special day and let herself remember.
She had wanted to get married here at the farm with just family and close friends gathered with them, but Eric had insisted on having their wedding in town—a ceremony at the church followed by formal photographs at Riverside Park and a reception for a hundred and fifty at the community center. Annie, who had always been a bit of a homebody, had found the day overwhelming. Eric, surrounded by both their families, friends, acquaintances and a few people he hadn’t met before that day, had been in his element. By the end of the evening, she was sure he had spoken with all of them, sweeping her along with him. That night she had been happy to hang on his arm, smile and thank their guests for sharing their special day. Looking back, she knew she had put his wants and wishes ahead of her own, and by doing that, she had set the tone for their marriage.
It had been a good marriage, she reminded herself. She had thought she might have to dig in her heels about living at the farm but Eric had readily agreed. He had been hired as the physical education teacher and it made sense, he’d told her. She wouldn’t have to work—he had never viewed cooking and baking and laundry and housework as real work—and they could use his meager salary to buy a car and pay for winter trips to nearby ski resorts and summer boating excursions and waterskiing on Lake Pepin. Eric had loved athletics and the outdoors, and as usual, he had swept her along with him. Perhaps he’d been having too much fun to notice she’d been sipping hot chocolate and reading in the ski lodge or sequestered under a beach umbrella with a book. Or maybe he had assumed that’s how she wanted to spend her time.
Annie gave herself a shake. This line of thinking was never productive, and it was downright dangerous on a day like this. Eric had been a good husband and a great dad. They had rarely argued and they’d never had what anyone would consider a real fight. Of course, CJ said Annie was too easygoing, but she’d proven herself to be stronger than anyone thought. Instead of simply being a stay-at-home wife and mother who also provided a home for her father and youngest sister, she had turned the house into a successful bed-and-breakfast.
This summer had been the first time since opening the B&B that she had closed her doors to guests. After Eric’s death, Emily had found out she was having Jack’s baby and accepted his marriage proposal, so there had been a wedding to plan. Around that time, their half sister Rose had arrived on the scene, and Annie had helped her settle into Riverton. She had thought she might miss having guests around since they kept her busy. But she had enjoyed being able to devote all of her time to family. With the wedding day finally upon them and Rose settled into a steady job and a small apartment in town, Annie had already decided she would reopen for the holidays and spring break and summer vacation.
She was in the process of considering her options in the form of a mental pros-and-cons list when a sound from the kitchen caught her attention. She turned, glanced through the French doors. Emily, dressed in the faded yellow flannel nightgown she kept at the farm for occasions when she spent the night, and the Cookie Monster slippers that Annie and CJ had given her for Christmas when she was fourteen, was moving through the kitchen, opening and closing cupboard doors.
Annie experienced a wave of sisterly affection tinged with motherly devotion. Which was silly because she was only two years older than Emily. But ever since their mother had left them, she had always felt more than sibling responsibility.
“Good morning,” she said, pushing through the doors and closing them behind her. “Sleep well?”
Emily swung around, her mother-to-be glow exceptionally…glowy this morning. “Like a log. No, more like a baby.” She grinned.
Annie crossed the room, set her mug on the island and drew her sister into a hug. “You look lovely this morning.”
“I’m getting married. Me, little Emily Finnegan, is getting married! Can you believe it?”
“Yes, I can believe it. And you haven’t been ‘little Emily Finnegan’ in years.” Annie put her hands on her sister’s shoulders, held her at arm’s length and looked at the beautiful woman she had become, slippers and nightgown notwithstanding.
“But I’m marrying Jack Evans. Jack. Evans. We’re going to be husband and wife, I’m having his baby, and I’m not freaking out. Not even a little bit.”
“You have no reason to freak out. Jack loves you.”
Emily’s grin widened. “He does, doesn’t he?” She resumed her search of the kitchen cupboards.
“What are you looking for?”
“Decaf.”
“Sit.” Annie led her to a stool at the kitchen island. “I’ll make some.”
Emily sat. “How long have you been up?”
“For a while.” If she was being honest, she would admit to not being able to sleep. She had been looking back on the past with regret, and looking ahead, somewhat selfishly, to how this day might unfold for her. “I stepped outside to enjoy the sunrise. We’re going to have a perfect day for the wedding.”
“That’s good. I know it was risky, planning an outdoor wedding in September, but it’s what we wanted.”
Annie poured water into the coffeemaker, dumped grounds into the basket, switched it on. It’s what we wanted. She envied them. Emily and Jack discussed everything, disagreed on a lot of things, and almost always found a compromise that worked for both of them.
“Oh, and I can’t remember if I mentioned this or not, but Paul said he’d be here by eight thirty.”
Annie swung around. “Paul? He’s coming here? But he’s the best man. He should be spending the day with Jack.”
Emily shrugged. “Jack is going to shower, shave and put on his tux. Knowing him, he’ll probably spend the morning at the station. He and I aren’t supposed to see one another until the ceremony, so he certainly can’t be here setting up the chairs at the gazebo and the tables for the reception.”
“I thought Fred was going to help.”
“Oh, he is, but it’s a big job so I asked Paul if he would, too, and he said yes.”
Of course he did. If there was one thing she knew about Paul, it was that he would do anything for his friends.
CJ straggled into the kitchen, yawning, and waved at the coffeemaker. “Too early. Need coffee. Is this the real thing?”
“Decaf,” Emily said.
“There’s regular coffee in the carafe. Have a seat and I’ll get it.”
CJ ignored her, took a mug from the cupboard and filled it. “You’re very sweet, but I can pour my own coffee.”
“You can pour mine, too. I don’t feel like getting up,” Emily said, and then turned to CJ as she settled onto the stool beside her. “I was telling Annie that Paul’s coming this morning to help with setup.”
“Such a great guy.” CJ paused to gulp coffee. “Hard to believe he’s still single.”
And let the matchmaking begin, Annie thought. Out loud she said, “Since you’re so taken with him, I’ll let you oversee the setup while I organize the centerpieces.”
“Can’t,” CJ said. “I have to get to the stable and check on the horses. That’ll keep me busy until it’s time to get our hair done.”
“Don’t look at me,” Emily said. “I’ll be too busy being queen for the day.”
Their schemes to put her and Paul together were blatantly transparent and she should feel annoyed with them, but her traitorous heart was suddenly aflutter and her low spirits lifted. She set a skillet on the stove, took out eggs, milk and bread for French toast. She wouldn’t give her meddling sisters the satisfaction by telling them this, but if she got breakfast out of the way now, she would have time to change her clothes and fix her makeup before Paul arrived.
* * *
PAUL EXCHANGED A look and a nod with Jack as they stood with the minister in the Finnegans’ gazebo, facing the group of family and friends seated on the sweep of lawn along the riverbank. Ordinarily they would’ve given one another a one-armed hug and a back pat, but the occasion felt too formal for that. He didn’t think he’d ever been happier for his buddy, or more envious. As always, Jack appeared calm and self-assured, and Paul knew it wasn’t an act. Riverton’s chief of police was as solid as they came. And he was marrying one of the Finnegan sisters, which also made him one of the luckiest guys alive.
At the stroke of four o’clock, Fred pressed Play on the portable music system set up behind the gazebo. The strains of Pachelbel’s Canon in D filled the air, its melody soothing to the spirit and just a little haunting to the soul. The wedding party appeared as if out of nowhere. CJ and Rose walked, with Isaac between them, along a narrow carpet forming an aisle between the chairs. Annie followed them, wearing the most incredible dress he’d ever seen. Or maybe it wasn’t the dress. Maybe it was simply her. She could make anything look incredible.
And then the bride and her father appeared. Happiness radiated from her as she pushed his chair along the carpeted aisle. Among those gathered, Paul noticed more than a few of them reaching for tissues. As the bridesmaids and ring bearer climbed the steps, Emily wheeled her father into place in the front row next to Libby, then bent to kiss his cheek. Jack went down the steps, shook hands with Thomas, then tucked his bride’s hand into the crook of his arm and led her into the gazebo to face the minster.
Paul glanced at Annie. Their gazes met and held for several heart-stopping seconds, and then she looked away as she reached for her sister’s bouquet.
Later, from what he could remember of the ceremony, it was traditional and, happily, quite short. Several of the minister’s quips created ripples of laughter, others brought on a few tears. The bride and groom had written their own vows, and it was somewhat surprising that Jack’s words generated the strongest reaction. As he spoke about finding a life and catching a wife here in Riverton, Paul even found himself tearing up.
What he remembered most, though, was Annie, standing next to the bride, her deep blue, knee-length dress emphasizing an hour-glass figure, the square neckline forming a frame for a sapphire pendant that lay against a backdrop of ivory skin. He prided himself in being a practical man, yet as these images of Annie registered in his mind and transformed into thoughts, he was startled to find they were almost poetic.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and he liked that she kept glancing his way. Sometimes hastily before looking away with a flutter of long lashes, but other times their gazes held for long seconds at a time. He couldn’t wait to sit with her at dinner, to dance with her once the music started. For now, as the happy couple were pronounced husband and wife and the rousing notes of Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” filled the air, he offered his arm to Annie. She accepted with a slim hand and a ready smile, and as they followed Emily and Jack down the stairs, he was content with the knowledge that the evening was just getting started.