Greer arrived at the Charleston airport without Jill. Jill had stayed behind in New York with her business mogul lover for a whirlwind weekend of crazy monkey sex (Jill’s own words). Greer was so happy for her friend, and Ella, of course, was ecstatic—and in shock still, as was the entire Mancini family, except for one of the nonnas.
“I saw it in a dream,” that nonna said.
And of course, all the superstitious Mancinis were on board with that. They believed in intuition, in curses, in spells, in special blessings, and in visions.
Anyway, Greer and the girls would have plenty to talk about when they reunited a couple days from now. She was taking two days off to spend with her parents. Two days was all the senior Joneses could afford to leave their dairy cows. But she was so excited they’d finally agreed to come visit Charleston. Her mother had seen it long ago, for one day, when she’d dropped Greer off at the College of Charleston her freshman year. Her father hadn’t been able to leave the farm, so this would be a first time for him.
Greer really appreciated how hard it was for them to break away from home, and even though very few people understood—some thought her parents heartless, in fact—farmers understood their family dilemma. She was proud to be from farming stock.
So it was a fantastic reunion when fifteen minutes after her flight, her parents arrived on theirs.
“I’m so excited you’re here,” she said as they all rolled their luggage out to the airport parking garage.
Her father chuckled. “For a young woman with a broken heart, you’re awfully cheery.”
“I’m glad she is,” her mother defended her. “Maybe she’s getting over this man, and we can enjoy our two days off together even more.”
Greer pressed the button on the garage elevator. “His name is Ford,” she said, “and I’m as broken-hearted as ever, but I’m so happy for my friend and client, Jill Mancini. Remember that name. You’ll see it in the papers and online soon enough.” And she explained why.
They were suitably impressed by both Greer’s professional success in New York and Jill’s bravery. “You have a good life,” her father said from the backseat.
Her mother beamed at her from the passenger front seat.
“I do,” said Greer. It felt so good for her parents to know that, to acknowledge that.
“And we’re a good family,” said her father, his hand on the back of her seat, and sounding as if he needed reassurance.
Greer’s eyes burned at that. She and her mother exchanged glances. She could see her mother was moved, too.
“Yes, we are, Papa,” she told her father. “We’re a wonderful family. We love each other. You and Mom have both worked so hard to keep a roof over our heads. And you two brought me up to have a big heart. Thank you.” She looked at him in the rearview mirror.
He sat back, a contented smile on his face.
Her mother reached over and squeezed her hand.
That moment was enough. If they had to turn around and go home right then, Greer would have had a shining memory of their visit to cling to.
“The days are getting long,” her father said, when they arrived at Baker House. Greer was happy to have a spare bedroom. And then she remembered her own. How could she have forgotten it? All the pink! The diamonds! The Elvis pictures!
She was aghast. She was glad she always kept her bedroom door closed.
“I can’t wait to see the whole apartment,” her mother said. “I love the kitchen already.” They’d parked their suitcases there for a moment to grab a glass of water. “Your decorating reminds me of mine.”
“That’s on purpose,” said Greer. “You always made such a sunny home for us.”
“Yes,” said her father. “Give us the grand tour so we can see how else your mother has influenced you.”
“Oh, but you have, too, Poppa.” Greer could tell he was hoping she’d say so. “Look at how well-organized my books are. And every bit of furniture here has been painted by me, using techniques you taught me.”
He was very pleased.
Greer could see no way out of showing them her room, especially when her mother saw the shut door. “What’s in there, dear?”
“Oh,” she said, “that’s a bedroom. It’s my roommate’s bedroom. She’s out of town for a couple days.”
Her mother’s mouth dropped open. “You never told us you had a roommate!”
“I just took one on,” she said, “to save money.”
“Smart,” said her father. “What’s her name? And where’d she go?”
“Ah, her name is Elena,” Greer said. “And she went to Disney World. For her mother’s birthday.” She couldn’t believe the lies she was telling. “I’ll sleep in her room, and you can have mine.”
“Let’s see yours,” they said, and walked past her closed bedroom door, thank goodness.
But her father didn’t like the double bed in what was really her guest room. “Your mother and I prefer a king-sized,” he said. “Is Elena’s bed a king?”
“Oh, no,” said Greer. “It’s only a queen.”
“Well, that’s better than this one,” he said, and rolled his luggage out the door.
Her mother immediately followed suit.
“I don’t think you’ll like it, Poppa!” Greer called after them. She couldn’t get around her mother’s luggage to beat both of them to the door. “Elena has interesting taste.”
Her father flung the door open. And stood in shock. When her mother caught up with him, she stopped in her tracks, too.
“She really loves Elvis,” Greer said, and tried to sound matter-of-fact about it.
“I can see that,” her father said.
What would they do? Greer folded her hands in front of her. “There are towels in her bathroom,” she said.
“Right.” Her mother’s voice was faint.
But they rolled their luggage in and unpacked. When they came out again, a few minutes later, it was as if nothing had happened. Greer fed them some appetizers, and then she took them to her favorite restaurant, where her mother and father split a piece of New York–style cheesecake for dessert. Greer, of course, had crème brulée.
It was the story of her life.
* * *
Ford cornered Pierre in the macaron shop. “He’ll take exactly nothing,” he said to the big-eared boy behind the counter, who was busy stacking pastel pink macarons into a cellophane bag.
“Hey,” said Pierre.
Ford grabbed him by the arm. “You’re coming with me.”
Pierre stumbled alongside him as they crossed the street and entered a leafy park surrounded by a wrought iron fence.
“I’m Lord Wickshire, otherwise known as Stanford Elliott Wentworth Smythe, Eighth Baron Wickshire. You know me as Ford Smith.”
“Uhh…”
“You’re a very unpleasant guy who messed with several women’s psyches during this contest you rigged. I know you did. I spoke to Kiki. She was easy enough to break down when I offered her a position at a clothing shop in Mayfair in London with a woman I know who’s even more frightening than Kiki is. Her name is Rosemary Dunhill.”
“The actress?”
“Yes, she owns clothing shops on the side.” She was Teddy’s mother, of course.
“I’m well aware.”
“She said she’d get Kiki in line. She’d make a lady out of her if it was the last thing she does—a woman of integrity, polish, and grace, she told Kiki—and guess what? You didn’t give Kiki enough credit. She jumped at the chance.”
“Damn.” Pierre’s drawl became more pronounced. “I wondered why she didn’t show up for work this morning.”
“She’s on a plane to London as we speak. So Kiki told me the name of the hacker in Scotland you hired to place that text on Greer’s phone. And from there it’s easy enough to put you behind bars.”
“You—”
Ford grabbed him by the shirt front. “Shut up,” he said. “I’m going to give you two choices. Pick one. You will get me Royal Bliss right now. Or you don’t. And I call the police.”
“I’ll get Royal Bliss,” Pierre whispered.
“We’ll be borrowing it, but it might never find its way back to you. Greer will wear it, if she’ll have me and if she cares to don it at our wedding. And then we’ll be offering it to the other finalists. If Lisa marries last, we will cut it down permanently to fit her, and she will keep it henceforth.”
“Okaaaay,” said Pierre.
Ford released him. “I also expect you to provide bridesmaid dresses to some women I hope to be sending into the shop.”
“Fine,” Pierre said low.
“I’ve brought my own tux,” Ford said, “but my groomsmen will need tuxes. I realize you don’t carry them—foolishly. You’re too stubborn to listen to Henny, the only friend you have and can trust. Your future happiness begins in your switching over to men’s wear. But as you’re too egotistical to accept good advice, you can at least arrange for said tuxes to be purchased at another men’s store.”
“Will do,” Pierre whispered.
“Speak up,” Ford said.
“Will do,” Pierre said. “Not only will I help you, I will arrange the entire thing.”
“Almost the entire thing,” Ford qualified. “There are a few things only a bride’s true love can do. But otherwise, I’ll accept your offer. Make it much more lavish and romantic. Not a bit cynical or fake. I don’t want to see any evidence of your hand in it, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now go apologize to Henny and get started. The wedding will take place tomorrow at six o’clock at Two Love Lane, in the back garden. Seating for one hundred. Heavy hors d’oeuvres reception to follow across the street at the Carolina Yacht Club.”
“Have you even proposed?”
“No. But I have the ring.”
“Show me,” Pierre said.
“No.”
His face fell.
“But I’ll allow you to attend the wedding if you commit to apologizing to every one of the five finalists before it begins. Save Greer’s apology for the actual wedding site. I don’t want you ruining my own surprise proposal. If I don’t hear from the other four, however, before the wedding, you can’t come.”
“This will be the wedding of the year! I never miss important weddings.”
“You will this one, if you don’t apologize. I doubt you will. You’re a foolish little man. You could be the next Beau Brummel, with your sartorial know-how, but instead you choose smallness of character and a silly fake whisper.”
“I’ve stopped whispering,” Pierre said. “And just watch me become the next Beau Brummel.” He stalked off, but then he began to run, and when he flung open the door to La Di Da, he wore the look of a determined man. “Wait!” he called to Ford at the door. “What kind of tuxes?”
“I’ll be in white tie!” Ford called to him. “I’ll let you decide for the rest of the lads.” Three of whom were older than he was: his father, Greer’s father, and Rupert.
Pierre gave him a thumbs-up and disappeared inside.