Vintage Ladybug Farm (14 page)

Paul nodded, reaching for a cinnamon roll. “There’s a balcony off the master bath just big enough for a claw foot tub. It’s very Fiji-esque.”

“Not to mention picturesque,” added Derrick. “We’re going to glaze it green, with gold-leaf claw feet. Sitting up there amidst all those trees … a slice of heaven.”

“We got the idea from a picture in
Architectural Digest
.”

“Craziest damn fool thing I ever heard of,” Ida Mae said. “Y’all are gonna freeze up there in the winter.”

Her steel-toed boots clomped their disapproval on the way out—pausing only once to select another chocolate—and Paul and Derrick just grinned at each other.

Bridget slipped the card into one of the drawers of the escritoire that stood beside the door to the parlor. “She’s got a point.”

“Did you bring the wedding gown sketches?” Cici asked Paul. “Lori said she’d be here by ten.” She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. “Which of course means she’ll be here by lunch.”

“I did better,” Paul said, wiping his fingers on a napkin as he stood. “I brought samples.”

“Why did Lori choose Valentine’s Day weekend to look at wedding dress sketches?” Derrick asked as Paul went to the foyer to retrieve the samples. “Don’t she and Mark have a romantic evening planned? They’re not fighting, are they?”

“She said they had their Valentine’s Day early,” Cici replied. “Mark gave her a dozen roses and a teddy bear with a diamond necklace around its neck.”

“Nice,” said Derrick with an appreciative lift of his eyebrow. He reached for another cinnamon roll and Bridget discreetly nudged the basket out of his reach.

“They never fight,” she said. “They’re far too practical.”

“What do they have to fight about?” Derrick observed. “He’s giving her diamonds and they’re not even out of college yet. What a world we live in.”

“Bottom line,” Lindsay said, rummaging in the chocolate box for another cherry, “Mark had to study this weekend and Lori’s mother has been driving her crazy about getting the wedding plans started, so …”

“I have not been driving her crazy.”

“Her words, not mine.”

“Anyway,” Cici said, “I think the real reason she’s coming down is to see Dominic about something. Why, I don’t know. She talks to him more often than she does to me. Whatever. I’m just glad to have her within lassoing distance. If I have to tie her to a chair … Oh, my.”

Heads turned in the direction of her gaze and all three women caught their breaths as Paul unzipped the garment bag he carried with a flourish, and a virtual cornucopia of white lace and satin spilled out. Derrick took the opportunity to refill his coffee and help himself to a second cinnamon roll.

“One of the often-overlooked perks of being an award-winning style columnist syndicated in every major newspaper in the country
and
six magazines,” Paul admitted modestly as he extracted the bridal gowns, one by glorious one. “I also brought seventeen back issues of
Bride
magazine and a complete guide to color selection from The Knot.com. Wipe your fingers, ladies,” he admonished as the three women descended on the gowns with muffled exclamations of delight. “They won’t take them back with chocolate stains.”

“This one,” exclaimed Cici, snatching up a frothy confection of chiffon and ribbons.

“No, this one.” Bridget chose a high-necked sheath covered in lace with a thousand fabric buttons down the back. “Very Kate Middleton.” She held it up to herself for inspection.

Lindsay selected a strapless, brocaded bodice gown with a dropped-waist A-line skirt that fell into a modest bell train. “This,” she said, fitting it around her torso, “is Lori.”

Everyone smiled at her. “Try it on,” Cici urged.

Lindsay protested, but not very hard. Ten minutes later, they all gathered at the bottom of the stairs as she descended, her hair upswept to show off her bare shoulders, the ivory fabric shaping her long waist and flaring to the perfect train behind her. Bridget applauded, and Cici pressed her clasped hands to her lips, beaming.

“You’re a vision!” Derrick declared, while Paul hurried up the stairs to adjust the fall of the train.

“Look how big my boobs are!” she exclaimed, grinning. “Who knew?”

“Exactly what I want for my daughter on her wedding day,” replied Cici. “Gigantic boobs spilling out of her dress.”

“It’s all in the cut of the gown,” Paul explained.

“I could only zip it up half way,” Lindsay added. “If I turn around you’ll see my bra.”

“Especially designed to enhance boobage,” Paul pointed out. “It goes with the dress.”

“That’s okay,” Bridget said beaming. “Lori is two sizes smaller than you. She’ll look like a princess in it.” Ignoring Lindsay’s small frown, she looked a little closer. “Wait a minute. Is that a Vera Wang?”

“But of course,” Paul replied, fussing with the train.

“Paul, we can’t afford a Vera Wang!” Cici said, dismayed.

Paul peeked around Lindsay. “What part of ‘sample’ did you not understand, sweetness? I can get this for a steal, if this is the one our princess chooses. And …” he stood back to critique his work, “why wouldn’t she?”

Cici glanced at Bridget, and a secret smile tugged at her lips. “She would look like a princess, wouldn’t she?”

“I don’t know.” Lindsay tugged uncomfortably at the top of the dress. “Now I’m starting to think you’re right. Maybe this bra is too much.”

“You look gorgeous,” Derrick assured her from the bottom of the stairs, “bra or no bra.”

“I’ll say.” Another male voice joined the murmurs of agreement, and Lindsay looked up from tugging at the bodice to see Dominic standing at the arched entrance that led to the dining room. He held a potted plant of some sort in his hand, and his expression was both bemused and appreciative. “Is there something I should know?”

Lindsay reached behind her to grasp the two parts of her dress, exclaiming “Dominic! I didn’t know you were here. I was just helping Lori pick a dress … I mean, helping Cici help Lori pick a dress …”

Bridget turned to Dominic, smiling as she gestured to the plant he held. “What’s this?”

It took him a moment to pull his attention away from Lindsay. “Umm, it’s a rose bush. I forced the buds so it should bloom the rest of the winter in your sunroom. You can plant it as soon as the ground warms up.”

“How sweet,” Cici exclaimed, extending her hands for it. There was a teasing twinkle in her eyes as she lowered her voice a fraction and added, “But you really don’t have to court us all, Dominic. Bridget and I already like you.”

“So do we,” volunteered Derrick, deadpan. “Don’t we, Paul?”

“Well, that depends,” replied Paul, peeking around Lindsay. “What kind of rose is it?”

The corner of Dominic’s mouth turned down dryly, proving he could take a joke. “The kind a man gives to the lady he’s hoping to take to dinner on Valentine’s Day.”

Lindsay drew a breath for a reply, but Paul interceded with a disapproving look. “You’re asking her to dinner at ten in the morning? On Valentine’s Day? I doubt very much she’s available.”

Lindsay spared Paul a quick scowl and a little backwards kick with her bare foot.

Dominic held the plant up toward Lindsay. “I know how you enjoy your rose garden,” he said. “I grafted this last fall from American Beauty stock with two different floribundas. It has a blossom that’s almost the color of your hair. So I’m calling it the Lindsay rose.”

“Now that,” admitted Paul, “is what I call a romantic gesture. Maybe she’s available for dinner after all.”

A faint pleased flush came to Lindsay’s cheeks when he said that, and it made Dominic smile. Lindsay started down the stairs, but Paul caught a handful of fabric in his fist, holding her back. “Bra,” he reminded her.

She tugged away from him, and with one hand pulling at the front of the dress and the other holding it together in back, she came down the stairs. When she reached Dominic, he said softly, “Now that is a pretty sight.” Lindsay started to reach for the flower with her left hand and then with her right and was saved from an embarrassing slip of fabric when Bridget stepped in and scooped the plant from Dominic’s hands.

“I’ll put it in the sunroom,” she said.

“That was nice,” Lindsay told him. “I never had a rose named after me before.”

“And I think that’s a crime,” Dominic replied.

They stood smiling at each other for a moment, and everyone else stood watching them indulgently, until Cici cleared her throat and stepped forward purposefully.

“Come have some coffee while Lindsay changes.” Cici slipped her arm through Dominic’s and turned him toward the parlor. “We didn’t hear you drive up.”

Lindsay cast her a grateful look and turned to hurry up the stairs, while Paul gallantly spread his arms to shield her bare back.

“I probably should have called first,” Dominic said, “but I got a text from Lori asking me to meet her here at ten. She’s awfully excited about something. I figured she cleared it with you.”

“You text,” observed Cici with an admiring expression. “I’ve got to learn how to do that.”

“Where are you taking Lindsay for dinner?” Derrick asked.

“Wherever it is, I hope they serve red food,” added Bridget, returning. Then, “Lori just drove up.”

Cici’s eyebrows flew to her bangs. “What do you know about that? She’s on time!”

Lori blew in on a gust of cold damp air, swirling off her rain cape, tossing aside her hat, and leaving puddles wherever she moved. “Every time I come home it rains,” she announced cheerfully. “Why isn’t the roof fixed yet?”

There was a flurry of activity while she dropped her overnight bag in the foyer, distributed kisses all around, and relayed Mark’s greetings. Cici hung up her cape, Paul carried her bag upstairs, and Lindsay, now dressed again in sweater and jeans, begged Lori to come and try on the gown she’d just taken off.

“In a minute,” Lori promised. Her eyes were shining with a secret delight as she slipped the strap of her oversized tapestry messenger bag off her shoulder and placed it carefully on the ottoman. “First I have something to show you. We need a corkscrew. And Ida Mae.”

“Two phrases I never thought I’d hear uttered together,” observed Derrick.

Cici held up her hands in protest as Lori, with a flourish, pulled a bottle of wine from her bag. “Lori, you’re not going to open that now, are you? How long does it need to breathe, anyway?”

“Ida Mae!” Lori called. “We’re not only going to open it,” she told her mother, “we’re going to drink it.”

Bridget made a face. “At this time of morning?”

And Lindsay added, “I see we’ve been a very bad influence on you.”

Lori held the bottle up with both hands, showing the label. “This,” she told them, “is last year’s shiraz from the Three Ponds Winery, from where we’re going to order our crush. You’ve got to taste this.”

Derrick shrugged. “I’m game.” He crossed the room, where a decanter of sherry and a display of Murano cordial glasses were displayed on a Queen Anne console table. He removed the decanter and brought back the tray of glasses.

Dominic took the bottle and examined the label. “New York, huh? Old vines?”

“European stock,” Lori assured him. She turned and called again, “Ida Mae!”

Dominic took his key chain from his pocket and flipped open a corkscrew. Lindsay gave him an admiring look. “I do like a man who’s prepared.”

He flashed her a grin and started opening the wine.

Ida Mae appeared at the door to the parlor in the rooster-print apron that Lori had given her for Christmas and a purple cardigan over her housedress and jeans. “What’s all the bellowing about?” she demanded with a scowl. “I’m too old to be running up and down this hall every time somebody hollers, and I’ve got a cake in the oven.”

“What kind?” Paul wanted to know.

Ida Mae ignored him and slapped a stack of envelopes on the table by the door. “Here’s the mail,” she said and turned to leave.

Lori hurried to take Ida Mae by the arm, urging her back into the room. “Wait, Ida Mae. I need you to taste something.”

Dominic pulled the cork free from the bottle and sniffed it, then lightly inhaled the fragrance of the bottle itself. A slight tilt of his head suggested nothing as he poured a tasting measure into each of the glasses on the tray. Ida Mae watched him suspiciously.

“What’re you all up to, bringing out spirits this time of day? You’re gonna burn in perdition, ever’ last one of you.”

“Not spirits,” Lori insisted, bringing her a glass. “Wine. A very special wine.”

Ida Mae threw up her hands and stepped back, looking as though she’d just been offered poison. “Are you crazy, girl?”

Cici said, “Lori, really, is this some kind of joke?”

“Really,” Lori insisted, pressing the glass on Ida Mae, “just taste it. A tiny sip.”

Derrick cast a wary look toward her. “Are we all going to suddenly start shrinking and fall through a rabbit hole?” Nonetheless, he took a glass and held it up to the light, examining the color, and then waved it cautiously under his nose.

Dominic did the same, then took a sip. Everyone watched as he rolled the flavor on his tongue for a moment and then swallowed. “Nice base notes,” he admitted to Lori. “Chocolate, maybe a little raspberry … something else. Familiar, but I can’t quite say what it is.”