The Chesapeake Diaries Series (169 page)

“No hurry.”

Lucy checked her phone for messages while the car warmed up—thank goodness for heated seats—and answered a text from Bonnie about the flowers for the following week’s wedding. She’d spent all afternoon tending to business and had thought she was totally caught up. She sat in the warm car and waited for her partner’s response. After it arrived, she sent one more reply, then put the car in gear and headed off to Vanessa’s house on Cherry Street. By the time she got there, the car was toasty inside and she hated getting out.

“Shouldn’t be such a wimp when it comes to winter,” she grumbled as she turned off the engine and gathered her bag. “It’s not like I didn’t grow up here. Not like I don’t know what cold is.”

There were several other cars parked directly in front of Vanessa’s bungalow, making it a longer walk from Lucy’s car to the front door. She rang the doorbell with cold fingers. (
Note to self: Gloves are good. Buy a pair
.) Vanessa opened the door before Lucy could ring twice.

“Come in!” Vanessa greeted her with open arms. “Thanks so much for coming, Lucy. I’m excited already.”

“Well, save the excitement for when we actually come up with an idea or two that you might like.” Lucy dropped her bag on the floor and unbuttoned her coat. She rubbed her cold hands together even though the house was cozy warm.

“Come sit next to the fire,” Vanessa said, “and let’s see if we can chase that chill.”

“It really isn’t even that cold out tonight.” Lucy followed her hostess into the living room, where she was shown to a wing chair next to the fireplace. “I’m just so used to the weather in Southern California. They don’t call it ‘sunny’ for nothing.”

“I’ve never been,” Vanessa told her, “but I’ve heard it was—”

“Hi, Lucy.” Steffie emerged through double doors with a tray on which sat four glasses and two bottles of wine. “I was just telling Ness how totally cool it was to work with you on our wedding. Everything went so smoothly with you there.”

She placed the tray on the coffee table and asked, “White or red?”

“Red, thank you,” Lucy replied.

“Great choice. The wines are from Hunter’s Vineyard over in Ballard,” Vanessa was saying. “Of course, I’m not drinking because of the baby—it’s strictly club soda for me these days—but I’ve had their wines before and have really enjoyed them.

“I heard the vineyard and the winery are for sale.” Vanessa ducked into the kitchen and returned with a tray piled with cheese, fruit, and crackers. She set it on the table next to the wine. “We’re hoping some innovative someone will buy it. Though it will be a
shame to see the Petersons’ name off the label. They’ve been making wine there for years.”

“Must be after my time,” Lucy said. “I don’t remember the name or there being a vineyard in St. Dennis.”

“It’s out on New River Road, down about three miles. Past the Madison farm, you know, where it wraps around the corner of Charles and New River?” Steffie told her. “Which reminds me: Brooke should be along soon. She’s trying to finish up tomorrow’s cupcake orders, but she didn’t think she’d be too late. She said not to wait for her. She’s been really crazy busy trying to get her bakery ready to open—she’s calling it Cupcake because, you know, she’s only making cupcakes. Plus she’s getting ready to move …”

Steffie opened the wine bottles, poured first from the red, and passed a glass to Lucy. Vanessa sat on the edge of a chair nursing a tall glass of sparkling water with lemon and lime slices from the kitchen.

“I’ve been in such a tizzy these past few weeks, it’s been hard for me to focus. First Stef’s wedding, then Christmas and all of Grady’s relatives were here. After that was the big sale I had at Bling. All of a sudden the wedding is just a few weeks away and I don’t know what I’m doing.” Vanessa frowned. “The only thing I know for certain is that the ceremony is going to be in here, by the fireplace. I thought maybe we’d have chairs set up going this way.” One hand made an invisible line from one side of the room to the other. “What do you think, Lucy? What would you do in here to decorate?”

Lucy got up from her chair and gazed around the
room, then walked into the foyer, which was wide and bisected by a wide stairwell leading to a landing, then to the second floor. From the foyer, she walked back into the living room.

“If I could make a suggestion …,” she said.

“Absolutely. Suggest away.” Vanessa followed Lucy’s line of vision. “You like the bay window …?”

Lucy nodded. “You have this lovely antique table here, and with candles and some flowers on this beautiful lace cloth, it could be quite the focal point. Having the ceremony at one end of the room instead of in the middle will give you more space for guests to gather.”

Vanessa walked to the table where Lucy stood. “So I’d have one solid section of chairs instead of two with an aisle,” she said thoughtfully.

“Unless you’re planning on a long ceremony, you might want to forgo the chairs altogether,” Lucy suggested. “People can stand for ten or so minutes. Except, of course, if you have elderly or infirm guests.”

“None that I can think of offhand, but we could have a few chairs here in the front. That would save us from taking the sofa and the wing chairs out of the room.”

“No need to do that,” Lucy told her. “You could move the sofa to the other short wall so that your guests aren’t tripping over it, and the chairs could stay there by the fireplace.”

“That could be pretty cool,” Steffie noted. “Not what you’d expect—I mean, you’d almost expect to see the ceremony in front of the fireplace. Which could get very warm for you and Grady if you stood there for too long in front of a roaring fire.”

“I’ll run that past Grady, but I definitely like the idea. Now, what would you suggest for flowers?” Vanessa asked. “All I see this time of year are red roses and I don’t want this to look like a Valentine’s Day party.”

“White tulips,” Lucy told her. “Masses of white tulips. Assuming, of course, that you like tulips.”

“I love tulips.” Vanessa’s eyes lit up. “I have tons of them planted out front. All colors. They are glorious when they all bloom and the yard is so colorful, but that won’t be for a few more months. But white tulips …” She glanced at the navy paisley wallpaper. “Yes, I can see white tulips in here.”

“Would you be ordering from Olivia at Petals and Posies?” Lucy asked.

Vanessa nodded.

“Tell her you’d like frosty white vases, all in the same size and shape. I’ll sketch one out for you, if you like.”

“I’d love that, thank you.”

“You want five, all identical, to march right across the mantel.” Lucy pointed to the fireplace, where, in her mind’s eye, she could see the vases, the flowers, come to life. “You want the same there on the table in the bay window, only much larger, fuller.” Lucy held her arms to form a circle. “Enormous.”

Vanessa nodded. “Got it. Gorgeous.”

“Out here …” Lucy headed toward the foyer. “Another huge spray of white tulips on this marble-topped table, with maybe your guest book alongside it. Then over here, on either side of the steps, white urns filled with curly willow spray painted white with little white fairy lights wound through them.”

She paused for a moment, looking back into the living room, then smiled. “Maybe something fun, something whimsical.”

“Like what?”

“Like maybe silvery-white helium balloons in different sizes, all congregated up around the ceiling like champagne bubbles.”

“I like that a lot.” Vanessa nodded. “But we’d need tons of them to get the right effect. I’ll talk to Grady about that, maybe put him in charge of the balloons. Cool idea, Lucy. Thanks.”

Lucy went into the dining room that opened from the other side of the foyer.

“You have pocket doors here?” Lucy investigated. “Maybe you could close these over during the ceremony. Hang wreaths of white baby’s breath on each door, not in the middle, though. Hang them close to the open edge, so that when the ceremony is over, you slide the doors open partway, and the wreaths are still visible on either side of the opening.”

“I love that idea.” Vanessa followed Lucy into the dining room.

“In here, again, white tulips. Big display on the table, then across the back of the sideboard—I am assuming you’ll be serving food on that piece?”

Vanessa nodded.

“So instead of flowers at one end, try tall narrow vases that only hold one stem each, and line them right across the back of the sideboard. They’ll look like twice as many with the mirror there behind them, but won’t interfere with the space you need for serving dishes.”

“I never would have thought of that,” Vanessa told her, “but I love the idea.”

“What are you wearing, by the way?” Lucy asked.

“Short white dress, a little on the froufrou side,” Vanessa replied.

“Vanessa’s our resident girlie-girl,” Stef joined them in the dining room. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“I hesitated about wearing white,” Vanessa admitted, “because I’ve been married before.” She paused. “Well, twice, actually.”

“The first when she was way too young, the second when she was way too foolish,” Steffie told Lucy. “We told her those didn’t count when deciding what color dress to wear, because this is the marriage that counts.” Stef put an arm around Vanessa’s shoulders. “This is the right guy and the right time, and this time is the only one that matters.”

“Thanks, Stef.” Vanessa looked as if she were about to tear up. “You’re right about Grady being the right guy. He is the only one that matters.”

“So a white wedding is totally appropriate,” Lucy noted.

“I can’t thank you enough.” Vanessa gave Lucy a hug. “You’re making this seem so easy.”

“It is easy, once you decide what you want to do, and you keep things relatively simple,” Lucy told her. “Are you having a caterer?”

“Yes. We were lucky to get Deanna Clark. She’s the best on the Eastern Shore, and thanks to Dallas, we were able to get her to squeeze us in that weekend.”

“Ask her to serve everything in or on white pieces. That will sort of tie it all in,” Lucy said as they all
began to drift from the dining room back across the foyer toward the living room.

“We’re having cupcakes instead of a cake,” Vanessa was saying.

“Not to mention white ice cream, compliments of
moi
.”

“What flavor of white are you making for the occasion, Stef?” Lucy asked. Steffie’s homemade ice cream was famous on the Chesapeake.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Stef confessed. “I keep going back and forth between coconut, which isn’t so original, and white peach. Which could possibly be my favorite of all time. Unfortunately, this is not peach season.”

“It must be peach season somewhere in the world,” Vanessa said.

“It’s a matter of finding a sufficient supply of good fruit, which I haven’t been able to do yet. But I haven’t given up.” Steffie patted Vanessa on the back. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“I know you are, and I know that whatever you make will be delightful. I’ve never tasted any of your ice cream that hasn’t been fabulous. And trust me,” Vanessa told Lucy, “I have tasted everything Stef makes and it’s all been perfection.”

“You make me blush.” Steffie took a seat on the sofa. “But it’s all so true.”

“So if you can’t find white peaches in sufficient quantity, what are the other choices?” Lucy asked.

“White chocolate mint, or white chocolate mousse.” Stef leaned over and refilled her wineglass. She held up the bottle and asked, “Anyone?”

“I’ll have a splash more,” Lucy heard herself say.
She hadn’t planned on staying for a second glass, but it was delicious and the fire was so nice and warm, why hurry back out into the cold?

Stef refilled Lucy’s glass.

“Of course, there’s the old standby, vanilla bean,” Stef continued, “or vanilla with macadamia nuts. I found a terrific supplier in Hawaii when we were on our honeymoon.”

“I think I’m just going to say ‘surprise me.’ ” Vanessa sat on a hassock in front of a wall of books.

“I am humbled by your trust in me.”

“Then again, maybe we should ask Alice,” Vanessa said thoughtfully.

“Since when does Alice know from ice cream?” Steffie asked.

“Alice?” Lucy asked.

“Alice Ridgeway. She lived here in my house for about, oh, I don’t know. Ninety years, maybe.”

“I know about her. She was a friend of my mother’s,” Lucy told them. She recalled her mother’s recent comment about Alice. “My mother somehow thinks that Alice might still be about.”

Vanessa nodded and moved to the wing chair opposite the one Lucy was sitting in. “Your mother’s been very helpful in interpreting Alice’s journals and notebooks.”

“Interpreting …?”

“You know, Alice’s spells.” Vanessa’s voice dropped an octave. “That woman had a spell for damn near everything you could think of.”

“Why would my mother know about any of that?”

“Well, because …” Vanessa paused. “Because …”

“Because when your mother was younger,” Steffie said carefully, “Alice sort of
guided
her.”

“ 
‘Guided’
her …?” Lucy asked.

“Your mother is … sensitive,” Vanessa blurted out.

“She’s always been a very sensitive person,” Lucy agreed, “but what does that have to do with Alice Ridgeway’s journals? I’m sorry, but I’m confused.”

“Don’t you remember, growing up, everyone—all the kids, anyway—thought that Alice was a witch?” Stef whispered the last word.

“That was kid stuff.” Lucy waved a hand dismissively.

Steffie and Vanessa both shook their heads from side to side.

“Not kid stuff,” Stef told her.

“Alice was the real deal.” Vanessa nodded.

“Are you two crazy?” Lucy started to laugh, then stopped. “You are crazy, aren’t you.”

“I know it sounds that way, but I live in her old house, and believe me, she’s still here.”

Before Lucy could comment, Vanessa added, “Did you know that she was agoraphobic?”

“And that she and my mother’s cousin Horace Hinson were in love but didn’t marry because she wouldn’t leave the house?” Stef said. “Well, she still hasn’t left.”

“Stop. You’re making my head spin,” Lucy told them.