A Wedding on Ladybug Farm (2 page)

“I don’t know about that,” Cici said.  “I’ve learned more new things since we’ve been here than I have in the rest of my life combined.”

“Amen to that,” said Lindsay, and, as if on cue, Rodrigo the rooster, gathering his hens for the evening into the chicken coop behind the barn, gave a resounding crow of agreement.

“Speaking of which,” Cici said, looking from one to the other of them, “did anyone remember to feed the chickens this morning before we left?”

Lindsay and Bridget exchanged a guilty look.  “I meant to,” Bridget said, “but I was running late getting the cake frosted.”

“You know me,” Lindsay admitted
. “When my routine is thrown off my whole day goes to pot.  If I don’t write it down I forget it these days.”

Cici said, frowning a little into her glass, “It sure does seem like there’s a lot more to do
lately, now that the kids are gone.  Maybe they were more help than we realized.”

“Anyway,” said Lindsay, “it’s good for them to eat bugs and worms.”

Cici lifted her eyebrows.  “The kids?”

“The chickens.  That’s why you pay three dollars a dozen more for free-range chicken eggs.”

“The problem,” Bridget pointed out, “is that there
is
a lot more to do these days.  When we started out we didn’t have chickens, or a goat …”

“Or a restaurant,” added Cici.

“Or a winery,” said Lindsay.”

Bridget nodded.  “I don’t think this place can be run by three people anymore.”

Cici smiled slowly, watching as the door to the barn office opened and Dominic emerged, lifting his hand to them before picking up a bucket and filling it with chicken feed. “Fortunately,” she said, “it doesn’t have to be.  God bless him.”

“I don
’t know how he does it,” Bridget said, “taking care of his place and our place too.  Not to mention running the winery.”

Lindsay watched with undisguised affection as Dominic entered the chicken coop and scattered feed amongst the eager, clucking chickens that swarmed around his feet.  “He is amazing,” she agreed.  “We were lucky to find him.”

Cici grinned and lifted her glass to Lindsay.  “Weren’t we, though?”

“I meant to run the winery,” Lindsay said, but a grin tugged at her lips too as she sipped her wine.  “We were lucky to find him to run the winery.”  And she turned her gaze back toward her fiancé, her face softening as she watched him perform the simple evening chore.

Dominic was a wiry, work-weathered man with a deep tan, longish, slightly thinning hair that was salted with platinum, and a quick, warm smile that always went straight to his eyes.  His father had created the original winery back when Ladybug Farm had been known as Blackwell Farms, and its wine had been known around the world.  Dominic learned the business at his father’s knee, and had virtually grown up on Ladybug Farm.  After raising a family and spending twenty years teaching agriculture at Clemson University, he returned to the place of his youth as the county extension agent.  When Cici, Bridget, and Lindsay had sought his advice about reopening the winery, it was a match made in heaven, and Dominic had come full circle back to Ladybug Farm.

“Has he decided what he’s going to do with his place after you’re married?” Bridget asked.

Lindsay shook her head.  “We’ve hardly had time to talk about it.  There are so many decisions to make …”

“Not the least of which is a wedding date,” Bridget pointed out.  Lindsay had changed the date four times already, and she had
only been engaged since summer.

“It’s going to be too cold for an outdoor wedding before long,” Cici added.

Lindsay made a brief rueful expression and lifted one shoulder.  “Now that I can’t use roses, what difference does it make?”

“I thought Dominic was set on having the ceremony in the vineyard.”

Lindsay sighed. “Roses are my signature flower.  I was going to have sprays of them at each row of seats, and winding through the grape arbor, and all along the reception table.  And in the bouquet, of course.”

“It’s a little late in the year for roses anyway,” Bridget said sympathetically.

“Unless you’re planning to wait until summer,” Cici said.

Lindsay brightened slightly.  “That’s a thought.  The gardens are gorgeous in May.”

Cici and Bridget exchanged a look.  It was Cici who spoke.  “You know, Lindsay—and don’t take this the wrong way—but I was just wondering … are you
sure
about getting married?”

Lindsay looked both surprised and insulted.  “What do you mean?  Of course I am!  It was my idea, remember?  Why would you say that?  Of course I am!”

“It’s just,” Bridget put in quickly, “you keep changing the date …”

“That’s not all my fault,” Lindsay protested.  “Dominic had to go to that conference in California in August and we all agreed he couldn’t afford to miss it
…”

Cici and Bridget quickly murmured consent.

“And I couldn’t get the dress altered in time for the next date, and the minister wasn’t available on the next one, and my sister couldn’t make it on the next one.  And don’t forget Paul and Derrick’s grand opening pretty much took up all of last month, and since Paul is my wedding planner I could hardly do it without him, could I?  Besides, most weddings take over a year to plan.  We’ve barely been engaged three months!”

“Well,” Cici pointed out a little less than tactfully, “most people aren’t as old as you are when they start planning.”

Lindsay gave her a sharp look.

“What I meant was,” Cici corrected herself quickly, “you’re the one who said why wait?  It was your idea to have the wedding this year.”

“There’s a lot to consider,” Lindsay said, only partially mollified.  “It’s not just the wedding, you know, but here we are about to bottle our first vintage, and Dominic is working overtime with the harvest coming up, which you might not know is a pretty big deal when you’re running a winery.”    

“That’s all true,” Bridget agreed.  “But you haven’t even made some of the most important decisions, like where you’re going to live
…”

Lindsay frowned uncomfortably into her glass.  “Well, it’s not like we’re college students, you know.  We both have lives, and a lot of stuff to consolidate.  It’s complicated.”

Cici nodded. “Just like it was when we all moved in here together.”

“But this is a huge house,” Bridget went on, “with more than enough room for a married couple, if that’s what you’re worried about.  We can fence off a section of the pasture for the horses, and if the golden retriever is a house dog he won’t even notice Rebel.”

Cici shot Bridget a quick look. “Even though we’ve never had a house dog before.”

“And Ida Mae would have a fit,” Lindsay said.  “She barely tolerates
us
in the house.”

“And we can always use more barn cats,” Bridget went on cheerfully.

“We already have a cat!” Cici exclaimed, and then looked around suspiciously.  “Where is he, anyway?”  The new kitten, whose name was still under debate, had an unnerving habit of springing out of what was apparently thin air to latch onto ankles, pants legs, shoulders, and sometimes scalps with needlelike claws, causing them all to mistrust the silence when they could not see him.

“This is a working farm,” Bridget insisted firmly.  “We need working cats.”

“Which lets out that little monster of yours.” Erring on the side of caution, Cici tucked both of her bare feet onto the top rung of the rocker, presumably out of harm’s way.

“Maybe the four of us should all sit down and have a talk about how it’s going to work,” Bridget suggested, “just like we did when we decided to buy the house.”

“Just like we did when we decided to go into partnership with Dominic on the winery,” Cici clarified.  “You’re the one who’s always saying that you can make anything work with a plan.”

Lindsay nodded, and sipped her wine.  “You’re right.  That’s what we’ll do. We’ll all sit down and work things out.  That will make everything so much easier.”

“How about now?” Cici suggested.  She lifted her arm to beckon Dominic to the porch.  He latched the door to the chicken coop and waved back.

“Not tonight,” Lindsay said.  “I’m too tired. But soon.”

“When?” Bridget said.

“Soon.  Maybe next week.  I’ll see when Dominic has some free time.”

“He has some free time now,” Cici pointed out.

Dominic put away the feed bucket and started across the lawn toward them, but Lindsay was already shaking her head.  “We’ll get around to it.  What’s the rush, anyway?”     

Cici glanced again at Bridget, who responded with a slight, almost imperceptible lift of her eyebrows that Lindsay chose to ignore.  Cici said, “Look, Linds, we’re on your side, you know that, whatever you want to do.  It’s just that we just went through this whole thing with Lori, remember, where she didn’t want to pick a date, and she didn’t want to try on dresses …”

“I have my dress!” Lindsay protested.

“Because Lori didn’t need it,” Bridget pointed out.

“Because the
reason
she didn’t want to be pinned down about any of the plans was that she really didn’t want to get married at all,” Cici said.  “So I’m just saying, maybe you should ask yourself if the reason you’re having such a hard time making decisions is … well, you know.”

Lindsay said patiently, “Look, we don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to weddings around here, you know.  The first time we tried to have a wedding at Ladybug Farm a tornado came and the goat ate the cake.”

“Not the whole cake,” Bridget protested. 

Lindsay overrode her.  “And the second wedding we planned, the bride ended up running away to be with another man.”

Cici objected, “I wouldn’t say Lori ran away.  Exactly.”  She frowned into her wine.  “Besides, that had nothing to do with us.”

“The point is,” Lindsay said, “I’ve waited
over twenty years to get married again, and you can believe me when I tell you it will be for the last time.  All I’m trying to do is make sure everything is as perfect as it can be.  And it will take as long as it takes.”

Bridget sipped her wine, her expression thoughtful.  “I don’t know, Lindsay.  After a certain age, it doesn’t always pay to put to things off.  It’s like the preacher said, we’re not promised tomorrow.”

Lindsay drew in a sharp breath to reply but let it out silently as Dominic came up the steps.

“Hello, my darlings,” he greeted them.  “How was the funeral?”

Lindsay made a face. “Why do people say that?  It was a funeral. How good could it be?”

“It’s a Southern thing,” Bridget said. “We have this whole dark delight thing going on with funerals.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Lindsay said.  “I hate them.”

“Actually,” said Dominic, “I was just being polite.”

“It was a lovely service,” Lindsay replied dutifully.  She extended one hand in welcome, but her smile seemed a little distracted.

“I’m sorry I missed it.”  He caught her fingers and kissed them, then turned to pour himself a glass of wine.  “I was fond of Maggie.”

“You were at the visitation last night,” Bridget reminded him.  “I know the family appreciated that.  Will you stay for supper?”

“Thank you, but I’ll just have a sip with you, if I may, and then get along.  The day is only half done.”  He lifted the wine bottle and examined the label before pouring, more out of habit than curiosity. In his world, the only wine that mattered was the wine from Ladybug Farm.  All other vintages were just filling in the time until his own was ready to debut.  “Good turnout, was there?”

“Everyone in the county,” Cici replied.  “If we hadn’t gotten there early we never would have gotten a seat.  Thanks for taking care of things while we were gone.”

Dominic topped off
Cici’s glass, then Bridget’s, then Lindsay’s.  He took his glass and sat next to Lindsay. 

“You know, it makes you wonder,” Bridget said thoughtfully.  “How many people will come to our funerals when it’s time?”

Lindsay groaned out loud again and Bridget insisted, “No, I’m serious.  You see someone like that, who’s been here so long and touched so many lives, and people are standing in line to pay their respects … but we’ve only been here a few years, and we don’t know that many people.  Really, who would come? And is there anything sadder than a funeral where nobody comes?”

“I’d come,” Cici assured her, “and I’d make Lindsay come whether she wanted to or not.”

“I’m sure your children would make the trip,” Dominic added.

Bridget nodded, somewhat encouraged. “That’s true, I suppose. And Katie would bring the grandchildren.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about little kids at a funeral,” Lindsay objected.

“You can’t protect children from everything in life,” Dominic said.  “It’s important that they understand that what is today may not always be.”

“Of course the girls have to be there,” Bridget insisted, a little indignantly.  “You always go to your grandmother’s funeral.”

“Paul and Derrick would come,” Lindsay said.  “Paul never misses a chance to give a speech.”