The Chesapeake Diaries Series (251 page)

And she was always there for him—until the day she wasn’t.

Until the day his entire world went black and changed forever, and there’d been no one to blame but himself for the gut-wrenching loss that had, for a while, made time stand still. His left thigh began to throb at the memory, and the scars on his chest began
to sear as if they’d been set on fire, fueled by guilt and pain and an emptiness he’d never get used to.

But there were times when he could swear he heard his mother’s voice inside his head, times when he’d needed some strength that he couldn’t find on his own. Whether memory or simply wishful thinking on his part, her words always seemed to come when he needed her guidance. Like the day they’d buried her and his father, and the day he got the call that Eric had been killed. Those were the darkest times, the worst times of his life, he reminded himself, life-changing moments that were real, the times that were seared into his soul. This—the news about the property being sold—this was nothing compared to those times, was meaningless in the scheme of his life. This was merely a minor setback of his business plan. There’d be another property, another opportunity.

He tried channeling his mother’s optimism, her cheerfulness, but he was still really pissed.

“Sorry, Mom.”

He thought of Curtis’s insistence that his wife’s spirit still inhabited the house they’d shared, and thought it probably wasn’t much different from the way he felt when he thought he heard his mother’s voice. He never thought he saw her, the way Curtis seemed to think he saw his wife; it was more a whisper inside his head. Real or imagined, it hardly made a difference, since whatever he thought he heard her say always seemed to be exactly what he needed to hear.

He drove along the winding two-lane road, the scent of magnolias wafting in through the open windows, the sun warming his arm that rested on the
door frame, but the beauty of the day was lost on him. Losing the property without having a chance to purchase it didn’t sit right with him, but apparently someone else wanted it and had had an in with the seller that he didn’t. It irritated him to know that all along, someone else had had an eye on the same prize, and that someone had beaten him to the sale.

But who, he wondered? What were they planning on doing with the property? And more importantly, what might it take to get them to sell?

Chapter 15

“Well, I have to say, this is the first time I’ve been to a wedding where the color scheme was pink and
black
,” Olivia whispered to Sophie from behind her program. They’d just been seated in the front row of the tiny church, where Jesse stood at the altar after having escorted his mother and sister to their pew.

“I like it.” Sophie leaned closer to her mother’s ear. “I like those black-and-white toile cones holding the pink roses at the ends of each row, and I like the way Brooke incorporated the pattern into the programs with the toile ribbon.” She held up the program she’d been given when they entered the church. “Sophisticated and sweet at the same time.”

“She said last night at the rehearsal that her dress was pink. Not pale pink, but a real pink-pink.” Olivia turned to keep her eye on the back of the church, as if concerned that the bride might sneak in without her knowing it. “Have you seen it?”

“No, but Steffie has. She said it’s gorgeous and very Brooke.”

“My boy looks so handsome.” Olivia nodded
toward Jesse, who stood at the altar awaiting his bride. “All the boys look handsome in their black suits.”

“I’ll bet it’s been a long time since anyone referred to Pop as a boy,” Sophie mused.

Olivia lightly swatted at Sophie’s hand with her program. “You know what I mean. Logan and Clay and Delia’s son.”

“Nick. Delia’s son’s name is Nick. Jesse asked him if he’d act as an unofficial usher, since they wanted to keep the wedding party small but still wanted to have a few guys on hand to show guests to their seats. As you can see, the altar area is very small, so you really couldn’t have a crowd up there. This is the oldest church in St. Dennis, and on the National Register of Historic Places.”

“Well, it may be small but it’s lovely. Simple but charming. I love the flowers growing in those big urns at the altar.”

“Those were Lucy’s idea. Spray paint the urns black and fill them with bulbs that would bloom in time for the wedding. She’s ridiculously clever when it comes to things like that.”

“And the flowering branches—the cherry and peach and pears—in those tall galvanized steel containers at either side of the entrance to the church … gorgeous. Who would think of something like that?”

“Lucy would. You know that she’s a very well-known event planner, right?”

“Grace’s daughter, yes. I met her when I arrived at the inn. Clay’s wife.”

“Right.”

The string quartet that was set up at the side of the
altar began to play, and all heads turned to the back of the church where Clay began to walk his mother, Hannah Madison, down the aisle. Next came Dallas MacGregor in a sleeveless black silk sheath with a low drapey neckline and a huge bouquet of mixed pink flowers of every hue.

“Not sure I like the idea of black on the matron of honor.” Olivia nodded in Dallas’s direction. “I was afraid it would look more like a funeral than a wedding when I first heard what she was wearing, but I must say, she certainly can carry it off.”

“Dallas can carry off anything. That figure and that platinum hair … she always looks stunning. Even when you see her in the grocery store.”

“She does her own grocery shopping?”

“Of course. This is St. Dennis, not Beverly Hills. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if she did it herself when she lived in California. She’s pretty down to earth from what I can tell.”

“Oh, look at Brooke!” Olivia wiped away a sudden tear. “Did you ever …?”

On the arm of her brother, Clay, Brooke started down the aisle, the layers of her pink chiffon skirt flowing around her like billowing waves. She carried an all-white bouquet of roses, tulips, baby’s breath, orchids, and ranunculus, and wore a tiny pink birdcage veil.

“That’s so totally Brooke.” Sophie grinned. “So girly and feminine and chic and, well, totally herself.”

The bride passed their pew, and as Sophie began to turn toward the front of the church, her eyes met Jason’s across the aisle. He winked. Smiling, she winked back.

“Well, I take back everything I said about the whole pink-and-black thing,” Olivia whispered as the congregation took their seats and the brief service began. “The look is starting to grow on me.”

“Ummmm.” Sophie fought an urge to look back over her shoulder.

In consideration of the best man, who was in his mideighties, the ceremony was short and sweet. The vows were traditional—“Do you take this woman … in sickness and in health …”—even if the color scheme was not. Twenty minutes after the bride walked down the aisle as Brooke Bowers, she turned to the congregation as Brooke Enright, and those gathered in the church applauded as the happy couple made their way to the back of the church.

“Oh, that was lovely.” Olivia dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Way too short a ceremony, but what there was, was just lovely.”

“I think Brooke wanted it short because it wasn’t her first marriage.” Sophie gave a little finger wave at her grandfather, who looked proud as a peacock with Dallas on his arm. “And also because Pop can’t stand forever.”

“Surely there are chairs …”

“Where would you put a chair on that altar?” Sophie followed her mother out of the pew. “It’s so narrow, there’s no room.”

“Good point.” Olivia took Sophie’s arm as they started toward the door.

On the opposite side of the aisle, Jason stood with his hands in the pockets of his dark suit jacket. Sophie had never seen him dressed in anything but jeans and a tee or a sweatshirt. Dressed up or dressed down, she
decided as she passed by, he was one fine-looking man.

The wedding party and the family members made their way to the Inn at Sinclair’s Point, where photos would be taken on the lawn and amidst the new garden paths, at the gazebo that had been erected the previous year, and in front of the small wooded area that was bursting with the color of a thousand daffodils and tulips. The sky was clear April blue, the Bay behind the lawn sparkling in the sun. It was a little over an hour before the photographer finally finished bossing them around for pictures.

“Now, Jesse, one with you and your mother and Sophie … and let’s have your brother and Zoey and Georgia in there next to Sophie for the next shot …

“I think we’ll have your grandfather join you … Now all of Mr. Enright’s grandchildren with him in the middle. One with him and Brooke … Now, Jesse, you step into the shot right there next to Brooke …”

By the time the photographer had moved on to Brooke’s side of the family, Sophie’s head was spinning.

“Mom, I can’t take any more. Want to join me for an adult beverage or three and some of those yummy hors d’oeuvres that are being passed around inside?”

“Not right now. I want a few more shots with Jesse and Brooke. But you go ahead. I’ll meet up with you at the reception.” Olivia’s focus was on her son and his bride.

“The reception has been underway for …” Sophie checked her watch. “About forty minutes. Wait too long and you’ll miss it.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“And I’ll take that as permission to eat your share of coconut shrimp and teriyaki beef.”

“Just save me a nibble.” Olivia raised her camera and proceeded to photograph her daughter.

“Stop that.” Sophie laughed and escaped into the inn.

She stood on the fringe of the crowd, taking in the sights and sounds. The string quartet played softly in the background, and waiters flowed through the room with silver trays to offer goodies to the guests. Sophie snagged a glass of champagne from one passing tray and a scallop wrapped in bacon from another.

The only thing I need right now is a comfy place to rest for a moment or two
.

She glanced around the room, spied some empty chairs and started toward one, but was stopped so many times on her way across the room—“Lovely wedding, wasn’t it?”—that she never did get to sit. Before she knew it, the wedding party made its way into the ballroom with all the attendant festivity, and in what seemed like the blink of an eye, she was seated with her mother and her siblings and their spouses and
their
mother and was being served a fancy salad.

She excused herself after the entrée and went to the ladies’ room to freshen up. On her way back into the ballroom, she stopped to chat with Violet, who sat next to Curtis, who was in deep conversation with Cameron O’Connor about the renovations to the carriage house at the Enright homestead. Next to Cam sat his fiancée, Ellie Ryder Chapman, whom Sophie had met at Christmas.

“Ellie, how are you?” Sophie greeted her.

“I’m good. You?” Ellie turned in her seat so that she could face Sophie. “Great wedding. Everything is just perfect. The food, the music … and I love Brooke’s dress. I doubt I’d have the nerve to wear it, but I love it on her.”

“She does look amazing.”

“Here, sit for a minute, why don’t you?” Ellie moved her bag from the empty chair next to her and patted the seat. “You don’t have any official duties right now, do you?”

“None. I’m home free.” Sophie moved the chair slightly, then sat facing Ellie. “Actually, all I had to do today was show up, smile a few times for the camera, and sit with my mom.”

“Your mother is the tall woman in the pale green suit?”

“Yes. That’s our mom.”

“I saw her in the church. She’s very beautiful.”

“Thanks. She is.”

“And the woman seated to her left at the table …” Ellie nodded in Olivia’s direction. “Who is she?”

“That’s Delia Enright.”

“The writer?” Ellie raised an eyebrow. When Sophie nodded, Ellie said, “I’ve read all her books. Obviously, I’m a huge fan. I didn’t realize she was related to you and Jesse.”

“Oh, she isn’t. She’s actually my dad’s ex-wife.” She smiled wryly. “Well, one of them, anyway.”

“Oh. Is your father here?”

“No.” Sophie signaled a waiter for a glass of wine. “Jesse didn’t invite him, because …”

“Please. No explanation necessary. I know what it’s
like to have a parent who isn’t welcome in polite company.”

Sophie nodded and took a sip of her wine. She knew the story—who didn’t?—of how Ellie’s father, a hugely successful investment broker, had bilked his clients out of multimillions of dollars, had been caught, confessed, and was now serving a very long prison term.

“Your grandfather looks good.” Ellie changed the subject. “I see a lot of him now that we’re working over at his place.”

When Sophie raised a questioning eyebrow, Ellie explained, “We’re renovating the carriage house.”

“Oh. I did know that Pop was having some work done.”

“I’m one of the contracting crew. I work for Cam. Right now, I’m scraping the old paint from the window sashes.” She held up her hands with their very short fingernails. “Hardly enough nails left to polish.”

“Nice that you work together.”

“Sometimes good, sometimes not.” Ellie shrugged. “But I am enjoying working at your grandfather’s. It’s kind of cool for me because my great-aunt and your grandmother were good friends.”