The Chesapeake Diaries Series (188 page)

“Madeline couldn’t possibly handle it, dear. She’s a darling girl and we all like her, but she doesn’t have your skill or your imagination.”

“She did a great job,” Lucy protested.

“After you told her what to do,” Grace reminded her.

“She’s very well organized,” Lucy insisted. “I wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without her.”

“She’s a good first mate, dear, but she’s not a captain.” Grace got up to see Trula to the door. “I’ll see you at breakfast, dear.”

“Gracie, thank you for all your help. Seeing Rob so happy after all he went through … well, it does my heart good.” Trula gave Grace a quick hug. “Good night, Lucy. See you in the morning.”

Grace closed the door behind Trula.

“I think I’ll turn in now, as well,” Grace told Lucy. “As Trula said, tomorrow will be a very big day.”

“Mom, what did Trula mean when she thanked you for all your help?”

“Oh, I guess she meant over all the years that we’ve been friends.” Grace dismissed it.

“That isn’t how it sounded. It sounded as if somehow she was thanking you that Rob was happy.”

“Now, why would she do that, dear?”

“I don’t know.” Lucy turned in her chair. “Mom, where’s your Ouija board?”

“In my closet.” Grace stopped and turned to Lucy. “How did you know I had a Ouija board?”

“Someone might have mentioned it.”

“Someone like Stef and Vanessa?”

Lucy nodded. “They seem to think you have some kind of power over that board.”

Grace looked uncomfortable, as if she wished to flee. “Lucy, it’s getting late, and I think this is a discussion for—”

“Gramma, you said we could read on your Kindle.” Diana appeared in the doorway.

“Why, so I did, dear.” Grace smiled. “Sorry, Lucy. Perhaps another time …”

Grace put her arm around her granddaughter’s shoulders. “Now, which book tonight?”

“The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,”
Diana replied happily.

“Didn’t we read that one last week?”

The voices of Lucy’s mother and her niece trailed down the hallway.

“Dodged a bullet there, Mom.”

Lucy chuckled as she grabbed her bag and left the inn for Clay’s. It was already late and she’d have to be back here at the very crack of dawn to oversee the rest of the setup for the wedding and to take care of every last-minute detail. She’d need her wits about her and she was already exhausted from a very full week, but she’d come to rely on the peace she felt when she was with him. She’d come to love the farm and the farmhouse, and, she realized, she was loving Clay. She wasn’t sure where it would lead, and right then, she wasn’t up to thinking about it. She had one very big, very high-profile wedding tomorrow, and
she was determined that everything would be perfect. Right now the Magellan wedding was priority. Everything else would have to wait its turn.

Mention of the wedding of Robert Magellan and Susanna Jones would appear in all the major newspapers during the following week, and every tabloid and weekly celebrity magazine would run photos of the festivities that had been taken with high-powered lenses from various spots at the edge of the inn’s grounds. Fortunately, the gazebo had been situated in such a way that the structure itself blocked the view of anyone on the north side or the Bay side of the property, so the only photos taken of the actual ceremony were taken by the photographer that the wedding couple had hired.

Lucy arrived at the inn just as the sun was rising. She went into the kitchen and begged for a cup of coffee from the breakfast crew, then took it outside to oversee the setup of the chairs in such a way as to form an aisle. There was a light mist off the Bay, but the sun would soon burn it off, and if the weather forecast was correct, the temperature would not exceed eighty and the humidity would remain relatively low.

The chairs were placed as directed and the rose petals that would be strewn along the path to the gazebo were in a cooler to be tossed about a half hour before the ceremony. Lucy went into the tent and spoke with the member of the inn’s crew who was in charge of placing the furniture in one end of the tent to be used for cocktails.

“Sofas here and here.” Lucy pointed. “Love seat there, chairs there, there, and there. Questions?”

“None,” she was assured.

“Great. Now where’s the guy who’s supposed to be putting down the dance floor? He was supposed to have done that yesterday.…”

She checked to see that all the paper lanterns would be lit when the time came, then greeted Madeline, who arrived at seven thirty.

“Find the guy with the dance floor, please.” Lucy handed off the sheet with the specifications to Madeline and went inside to make sure all was ready for the champagne breakfast they would soon be serving on the veranda that looked out on the Bay.

The kitchen was ready, but the centerpieces for the outside tables had somehow been taken into the dining room instead.

“Crap,” she muttered, and began the task of moving the centerpieces.

“What can I do to help?” Clay came into the room as if she’d conjured him.

“Ordinarily, I’d say thanks, but I’ve got this under control.” Lucy stood with her hands on her hips. “Today, however, I’ll ask you to help me move the centerpieces.” She stopped to kiss him on the lips. “And thanks for ignoring me when I said there wouldn’t be anything you’d have to do today. How did you know …?”

“I just figured you could always use another pair of hands.” Clay carried the flower arrangements, two at a time, back to their boxes in the lobby. “I never saw vases like these. They look like they’re made out of tree trunks.” He held one up to take a closer look.

“They
are
made from tree trunks. We had holes cut into them large enough for the glass vases to fit, see?” Lucy pulled one of the glass cylinders from the wood.

“Very cool.”

“They are, but they go on the veranda. The arrangements in the silver containers are for the reception, but those tables aren’t set up yet, so they have to stay in here for now.”

“I can handle this,” he told her. “You go ahead and do whatever else you have to do.”

“Thank you. You shall receive a suitable reward.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Lucy laughed and checked in with the kitchen, where preparations were in high gear. It seemed as if only minutes passed before guests started streaming in for breakfast. She checked the time and realized it was already nine.

The rest of the day went quickly. When she was satisfied that all was on schedule, Lucy ran upstairs and changed into the light silk sheath she’d brought home for the occasion. She pulled her hair back into a neat ponytail and put on a little makeup, then went to the room they’d set aside for Susanna and her attendants for hair and makeup and to dress for the wedding. Lucy knocked on the door, then went in. Susanna had just arrived and was checking on her dress, which had been delivered earlier.

“I can’t believe the day is finally here.” She was all but singing.

“Believe it.” Mallory Russo, one of the investigators for the Mercy Street Foundation and, as Lucy figured out over the course of the week, Susanna’s closest friend, entered the room and went straight to
the closet to hang up her dress. “Where’s the lady who’s doing hair?”

“She should be here any minute.” Lucy checked the time. The hairdresser was almost ten minutes late. She was just about to call the woman when she arrived with her assistants. Lucy breathed a sigh of relief and stepped back as the last of the attendants, Emme Caldwell, came into the suite with her daughter, Chloe, the flower girl.

“I’m wearing pink,” Chloe announced to the hairdresser, then held up her feet. “And I have pink shoes. Trula bought them for me.…”

The photographer knocked on the door.

Lucy let her and her two assistants in, then told Susanna, “I’m going downstairs to check on things. You have my number and I have my phone. Please call me with any questions or if you have problems.”

“We’re fine. No problems. Scoot,” Susanna told her.

Lucy scooted.

At noon, she had a tray of fruit and cheese and freshly made fruit breads taken up to the dressing room.

At one-thirty, the ceremony musicians arrived and set up near the gazebo. The string quartet began to tune up as Madeline finished draping the aisle chairs with airy white tulle and pink-and-white-striped paper cones filled with pink roses.

“I thought Olivia did those earlier,” Lucy said.

“She wanted to hold off as long as possible so that the roses stayed fresh for the ceremony.”

“Doesn’t she have them in water?” Lucy frowned.

“She has each stem in its own little vial of water.
But she said the direct sun wouldn’t be good for them, so to hold off.” Madeline looked up. “In another half hour, the sun will be behind those trees, so the flowers will hold up for the afternoon.”

“Why are you doing them? And where is Olivia?”

“She’s in the tents finishing up the flower garlands for around the tent poles. They proved to be a little more complicated than originally thought, so I offered to do this.”

“And the trees with the white lights?”

“Already set up and turned on.”

“Great.” Lucy made her way to the inn and checked in with Gavin.

“Are we good to go for the cocktail hour?” she asked.

“Good as gold,” he told her. “Did you eat anything today?”

“I had coffee.”

Gavin signaled for one of the line cooks to bring him a plate of some of the pasta he made that morning.

“Pear-and-goat-cheese
agnolotti
. Take this into the dining room, sit, and eat before you pass out.” He carried the plate for her and ushered her to a quiet table. “Rocco, bring Miss Sinclair a glass of iced tea, please.”

“Are you going to sit here and watch me eat?” Lucy asked.

“Of course not. I have work to do and you’re far too smart to let yourself run down when you have a very long day ahead of you.”

“Thanks, Gavin.”

The pasta was perfection, the cream sauce delectable,
and for almost ten minutes, Lucy permitted herself to relax. Then it was back to work, her iPhone with its checklist in hand.

“What else?” Daniel asked her when she walked into the reception tent.

Lucy shook her head. “Nothing. Thank God, I think we’ve got it together after all.” She looked around. “Is Clay still here?”

“He said something about helping Wade deliver some beer,” he replied.

“So they did it? They made beer just for today?” Her eyes lit up. “That stinker didn’t even mention it.”

“He wanted to surprise you.”

“So did he say what’s in it? What makes it special?”

“You’ll have to ask him. He said it would be here in time for the reception.”

“Before we can have the reception, we have to get them married.” Lucy glanced around and saw that a few people had started to gather behind the chairs. “Oh, damn. I forgot the programs. Have you seen Madeline?”

“She was headed back to the inn, last I saw her.”

Lucy pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Madeline’s phone. “The programs for the ceremony—”

“—are in my hands and I’m on my way outside.”

Lucy looked toward the inn and saw Madeline walking across the lawn.

“You’re good,” Lucy told her in passing. “I’m going to go check on the bride. I think we’re okay out here now.”

“Everything is under control here. The groom and his guys should be here in”—Madeline checked her watch—“less than thirty minutes now.”

“You know what to tell them when they get here,” Lucy said. “I’m going to check up on the bride. I’ll call you if it looks as if there will be a delay.”

She passed Daniel on the way to the inn and said, “Don’t forget, Susanna wanted flutes of champagne served while their guests are waiting for the ceremony to begin.”

“Isn’t she worried that some people might overindulge?”

“Apparently not, but I think someone should be vigilant if it appears anyone is asking for too many refills before the wedding.”

More guests were beginning to flow from the inn to the lawn, and Lucy hurried up to the second floor. Everyone was dressed, hair and makeup applied, and the photographer, Karyn Park, had already been shooting for an hour.

“Susanna, you make a stunning bride,” Lucy told her.

“Thank you. I tried on a dozen dresses, but the second I saw this one, I knew it was mine.” Susanna turned slightly so that Lucy could get the full effect of the gown. It was a slim column of white silk, with a halter neckline and a wide belt of chiffon flowers.

“Gorgeous.”

Susanna beamed and turned her head so that Lucy could see the orchids that were wound into hair.

“Like I said, gorgeous.”

“Thanks, Lucy.” Susanna turned to her two attendants, who wore strapless dresses in navy silk with obi sashes in navy, pink, and orange. “Ladies, are we ready?”

“We are so ready,” Mallory replied.

“I’m ready.” Chloe jumped up.

“Get your little basket of flowers,” Emme told her daughter.

“Susanna, are you ready to walk down the aisle?” Lucy asked as they filed out of the room.

“I am.” She took Lucy’s arm as they approached the steps.

The musicians were ready, the guests were in place, the groom waited patiently and calmly for the appearance of his bride. One last check to make certain that all was as it was supposed to be, and Lucy gave the musicians the nod. Clarke’s “Trumpet Voluntary” began to play as Mallory and Emme began their walk through the rose petals to the gazebo. Next came Chloe, who seemed confused to find that there were already rose petals on the ground, but she tossed hers anyway, and Ian, who carried the rings tied to the satin pillow, which was just as well since he bounced the pillow all the way up the aisle.

And then it was Susanna’s turn. To the strains of Pachelbel’s Canon in D, she walked unassisted to her groom, who met her halfway up the aisle to take her hand.

The ceremony was beautiful, filled with personal stories about the bride and the groom delivered by Father Kevin with great humor and warmth, the vows lovingly exchanged. Lucy looked around the crowd for her mother, and found her seated in the first row next to Trula, who looked elegant in a silk dress the color of a creamy latte. She tried to recall if she’d ever seen Trula dressed up before, and came to the conclusion that she probably hadn’t.