The Beekeeper's Ball: Bella Vista Chronicles Book 2 (29 page)

“I’ve got a better idea,” said Mac.

“What’s that?”

“Wear it to her wedding.”

“What? Oh, come on. I can’t—”

“Why not?”

“It would look funny on me. Or ridiculous.”

“You said yourself it’s gorgeous.”

“It probably wouldn’t fit.” She laid it on the bed and stepped back. The style was timeless, and in spite of herself, she felt drawn to the beautiful dress.

“I bet it’d fit. You look just like your mother. You’re probably the same size.”

“It would need to be cleaned and restored, not to mention alterations.”

“How about this?” Mac suggested. “How about you quit trying to think up all the reasons it won’t work, and focus on why it will?”

“You’re such a boy scout.”

“Nope. I think that day at the hot springs, we established that I definitely am not.” Mac gestured at the garments. “All this stuff would look great on you.”

“It’s not really my style. She seemed to like things that were more fitted, you know?”

“What I know is that you have an amazing body and it shouldn’t be covered up.”

Ouch. He was knew her too well. After she’d fled from culinary school, she’d wanted to hide herself away, and that included cloaking herself in a wardrobe of long, drapey clothes designed to cover everything. Mac was the first person who’d ever pointed that out to her. He seemed to know what she’d been avoiding for so long—that she needed to face her reasons for wanting to cover up.

“You’re very observant,” she said quietly.

“Yeah. I’ve made a lot of observations about you.” With that, he took her gently by the shoulders. Then he slid his hands behind her and lifted her hair away from the nape of her neck. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “For instance, I’ve observed that you’re wearing too many clothes.” His breath was warm, his lips nearly touching her.

She told herself to put a stop to this right now, to pull away and make a dignified exit, but she was riveted to the spot. Her breathing was shallow, her arms useless at her sides.

“You wear them like armor,” he said. “You don’t need armor around me, Isabel. I’m not going to hurt you.” And with that, he unbuttoned her dress at the back and let it drop to the floor.

Her skin tingled as she stood there in her camisole and panties, but to her amazement, she didn’t feel apprehensive or even awkward. She was too full of feelings far more elemental—she wanted his touch; she yearned for him to put his hands on her, to caress her. There was a wild sense of urgency she’d never felt before.

But he didn’t touch her. Instead, he picked up the peach silk dress and unzipped it. “You’re going to try this on.”

She practically groaned aloud in frustration. He’d been flirting with her for weeks, and finally she was ready to do something about it, but he was focused on the stupid couture dress. She instantly tried to think of an objection to trying it on, but discovered she was all out of ammunition. Truth be told, she wanted to know if it fit, and to see how it would feel to wear something that had once clothed her mother. It also occurred to her that she’d never worn an actual couture dress, had never even put one on.

She smiled at him and lifted her arms over her head, and he carefully helped her put the dress on. The luxurious fabric felt substantial and expensive on her frame. It felt as if it might fit.

She held her hair up out of the way as he closed the zipper, then he turned her in his arms, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “There. You’re Aubrey Hepburn.”

“Audrey. Really?”

“Go look in the mirror.”

She walked over to the tall oval cheval glass. The chiffon lining of the cocktail dress whispered with each subtle movement. The dress looked incredible, and she felt as if she were a different person in it. The bodice hugged her every curve, and the crystal beads flashed in the lamplight. “Whoa,” she said. “This
is
a special dress. My mother had good taste. I wonder how she ended up with a Valentino.”

“I’m just glad she kept it, because it looks fantastic on you.” He came up behind her and put his arms around her waist, then skimmed his lips along the line of her bare shoulder. “I’m really turned on right now.”

She leaned back against him, even though she knew she should move away. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” His hand came up and traced the line of her collarbone.

“Because I don’t want to start something with you.”

“Damn, you smell good,” he said, inhaling. “Why not?” he asked again.

“Because....” It was hard to think when he was doing that with his hands, his mouth.... “Because I might take this
—us—
too seriously.”

“Is that possible, taking love too seriously?”

She pulled away then, turning to face him. “Who said anything about love?”

“I did. You got a problem with that?”

“Yes,” she said immediately.

“With love in general, or with me in particular?”

“I’m not having this conversation.” She knew his next question would be, “Why not?” She decided to preempt him. “Because I have a theory about love, and you’re probably not going to like it.”

“Why wouldn’t I like it?”

“Always with the questions. Because I can never give you what you want.”

“How do you know what I want?”

She couldn’t think straight when he looked at her like that. She turned her attention to the things they’d pulled out of the trunk. She gazed down at the print of the beautiful couple on the Vespa. “I’ve never felt the way they look in this picture,” she said. “I don’t expect I ever will.”

“Not with an attitude like that, you won’t.”

She sighed, brushed her hand over the fine silk of the dress. “I always thought, growing up, that a person had one great love in her life. Sure, there would be boyfriends and broken hearts, missed connections and mistakes. But ultimately, I believed there would be one great love. The one that would save me and keep me safe forever and show me the joy in life.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m older. Wiser. I survived a terrible love, and it turned out not to be love at all. So I quit believing what that naive girl believed.”

“Isabel—”

“No, let me finish. It was like being a kid and figuring out that Santa Claus doesn’t exist. You’re not surprised, but disappointed, because you really want it to be true. But then you move on from there. I found other kinds of love to fill my life—family and friends. People I work with. The occasional date or social occasion.”

“Jeez,” he said. “You definitely need to get out more.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t need. Because the surprising thing that happened is that after I let go of all those romantic notions, my life filled right up. I discovered I didn’t need that one great romance in order to be happy, the same way I don’t need Santa Claus or the tooth fairy. Life is just fine without all that.”

“Okay, but there’s something I need to tell you,” said Mac. He walked over to her, put his arms around her, stirring up a shimmer of emotion.

“What’s that?” she whispered.

“I still believe in Santa Claus.” He pulled her against him and put his lips very close to hers. “And the tooth fairy, too. And the Easter bunny.”

The shimmer became a warm explosion of feeling. “Oh, boy.”

“And I also believe in...” He whispered a suggestion into her ear that made her bones melt.

Despite the warmth of the evening, she got goose bumps. “Yeah?”

He slid down the zipper of the dress and skimmed it to the floor, taking her hand so she could step out of the pool of fabric. Without taking his eyes off her, he peeled his shirt off one-handed over his head. Then he unfastened her bra and swept it aside, laid her back on the bed and pressed her down into the luxurious mattress. “Yeah,” he said.

Chapter Twenty-One

On the day of Tess and Dominic’s wedding, Bella Vista was surrounded by a coastal fog. The impenetrable white mist gathered like undulating wraiths in the valley carved by Angel Creek, and hid in the low spots between the rising hills.

“It is a sign of good luck,” Ernestina insisted, pouring coffee at the kitchen counter. “The fog means you will spend your life enclosed in pure love.”

Tess paced to the window, looked out and turned back to face Ernestina, who was flanked by Isabel and Shannon. “I’ve never heard that before,” she said.

“I just made it up.” Ernestina looked at her, then poured a mug of herbal tea from another pot. “No coffee for you. You’re already nervous.”

“I’m getting married today. I’m supposed to be nervous.”

“But in a good way,” said Isabel. “As in, excited. And the last thing you should be nervous about is the weather.”

“She’s right,” Shannon said. “This is Sonoma, land of perfect weather.”

“It will be sunny and clear by three o’clock,” Ernestina promised, sounding unaccountably authoritative. “By five o’clock, when the ceremony starts, the whole world will be perfect. You’ll see.”

“Fine, I’m not nervous,” Tess said. “I’m excited. I’m so excited, I could throw up.”

“Drink your tea,” said Isabel. “It’s got chamomile and elderflower in it, to soothe your nerves.”

“Did I ever tell you the first thing Dominic ever bought me was a cup of herbal tea?” asked Tess.

“I didn’t know that,” Isabel said.

She nodded. “He said the same thing—I needed to calm my nerves.” She sniffed the tea and wrinkled her nose. “I told him it smelled like yard clippings.”

“And here you are about to marry him. He must have done something right.”

“Try some honey in it,” said Jamie, coming into the kitchen with a stack of frames filled with cured and capped honey. She had been harvesting daily, cutting the combs from the frames, straining and sieving the honey and putting it in jars.

“More honey?” Isabel asked.

“Every day.”

“That’s so cool,” she said. “Your yield is ten times what I got last summer.”

“It’ll get better every year,” Jamie promised. She carried the frames to the stationary tub in the adjacent utility room, which had a rack of sterilized jars and equipment. Ever since choosing what she wanted to do about her pregnancy, she seemed more relaxed. She was even talking about getting a part-time job in town in the off-season, expressing interest in the local restaurant scene. She loved performing and knew she was good. Several local establishments featured live music, and she was planning to set up some auditions.

“It’s going to take more than honey to calm my nerves,” said Tess. “I’m getting married.
Married.
”

Her mother went over and gave her a hug. “You’re getting married. Ah, baby. I’m so happy for you.” They touched foreheads, and Shannon brushed a wisp of hair from Tess’s cheek. “But don’t get me started crying so early in the day.”

Annelise came in next, followed by Lilac and Chips, who had seemingly adopted her. Every time she came to stay at Bella Vista, the cats took to sleeping in her room and shadowing her every move. “There mustn’t be crying on such a joyous day,” she said.

“That’s easier said than done,” Tess told her, raising her tea mug. “But they’re good tears. I want to make a toast right here and now, to all the good women in my life—my mother, my grandmother, my sister—you became my family at the very moment I needed you most. And to Ernestina and Jamie—you inspire me in ways you can’t imagine. I feel so blessed that you’re all here today.”

Shannon lifted her coffee cup. “May the men in your life end up being as good to you as the women.”

“Hear, hear,” said Isabel. “To Tess...and her one true love.” She heard the echo of her conversation with Mac, and of course that evoked memories of the night they’d spent together in Francesca’s room. She still couldn’t believe it had happened, that she had been so open and vulnerable. His lovemaking had been a revelation. Never had she been treated with such tenderness and respect. Never had she found a man’s touch so arousing.

She would have loved to linger over thoughts of Mac, but the caterer and florist arrived. After that, the day kicked into high gear. The wedding planner orchestrated things like a practiced maestro, directing everyone to their tasks. Isabel was more than happy to take orders. She had already created the menu, perfected the recipes. Together, she and Tess had designed the venue. She and the others happily submitted to manicures, pedicures, hair and makeup. There was nothing left to be done except to dress for the occasion.

Two hours before the guests started to arrive, the women gathered to prepare themselves and the bride for the pre-ceremony photos. A handmade cream lace veil had been imported from Shannon’s native Ireland. Tess had chosen an ivory couture dress from a boutique in San Francisco, and a pair of glittery dancing shoes for performing the surprise wedding tango they’d learned from Annelise. The Irish veil was held on with a crown of fresh flowers. Around her neck, Tess wore the pink alabaster lavaliere from Annelise, and it was hard for Isabel to look at her without getting teary-eyed.

Life had come full circle for these two, and Isabel’s heart was full of gratitude for them both. This was exactly what she had pictured for Bella Vista—that it would be a gathering place for friends and family, for reunions and celebrations.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said. “You look like a dream.”

“I feel as if I’m
in
a dream,” she said, her eyes sparkling like emeralds. “Come on. The photographer wants us for pictures.” Then she stepped back and stared at Isabel. “And look at
you.
My God, where did you get that dress?”

Isabel twirled in a rustle of silk and chiffon. “You like?”

“It’s amazing.”

“Mac and Grandfather found it in a trunk of my mother’s things. It’s a Valentino.”

“Seriously? Wow, what a find.”

“I had the cleaners in town do some restoration work.”

“Lovely,” Shannon said, “but you need shoes to do it justice. Bare feet aren’t going to cut it, even with that pedicure.”

“Oh...I hadn’t thought about shoes.”

“Someone did.” Ernestina came forward with a black-and-white box with a suspiciously familiar signature logo. She removed the lid to reveal a pair of perfect champagne-colored peep-toe pumps inside.

“Hey Lady dancing shoes,” Tess exclaimed. “Where did you get those?”

Isabel’s face drained of color, which must have clued in Tess immediately.

“Oh, no, he didn’t,” Tess said.

“I mentioned the shoes once, I swear. I can’t believe he remembered....” Unable to suppress a grin, she slipped her foot into the pump. A perfect fit.

“You look incredible,” Tess said. “You should do ‘fitted and revealing’ more often. You’re going to outshine the bride.”

“Ha. Not a chance.”

* * *

The ceremony was everything they had envisioned, only better, because there were unexpected surprises, like the way the deep amber light of sunset sneaked through the gaps in the barn walls and illuminated the podium, decked with stargazer lilies. And the solemn joy with which the groom’s little daughter and son accompanied him down the aisle. And the fact that both Dominic’s younger sister, Gina, and Magnus, had both decided to wear a top hat and tails.

Tess had never been more beautiful. She wore her red hair swept up and adorned with a single lily. Her perfectly fitted ivory gown had a sweetheart neckline that framed the rose-pink pendant. The skirt was a long fall of silk chiffon that seemed to dance with every movement. The most beautiful thing about her, of course, was the expression on her face when she looked up at Dominic.

Isabel loved every music-filled, emotional moment of the ceremony. She loved the fact that her family was expanding, that she would have a brother-in-law and a niece and a nephew.

While Jamie performed a delicate rendition of “Come to Me,” Isabel stood by the podium, proudly holding her lilies and sneaking peeks at the gathering. It wasn’t hard to spot Mac, thanks to his height and broad shoulders. That wasn’t what made her go weak in the knees, though. No, that would be the fact that he was looking straight at her with an intensity she could feel clear across the room. And she couldn’t help but notice that he wore a flawlessly tailored tuxedo, and was perfectly groomed from head to toe.

Neelie, the bridesmaid to her right, leaned over and whispered, “Your boyfriend cleans up nicely.”

“He’s not—” She stopped herself. When they’d made love, the bond between them had changed from friendship and flirtation to something deeper, much deeper. Emotions she’d never felt before filled her up in places she hadn’t even known were empty. At some point, long before Mac had arrived, she had stopped expecting love to come along, and she thought she was okay with that, but he had revived a dream long since buried. The thoughtful words and beautiful music of the ceremony sharpened her yearning.

At the conclusion of the service, the mariachis burst into a zany version of “Don’t You Want Me Baby.” Dominic and Tess turned to face everyone with their arms raised like a pair of victorious prizefighters; then they practically danced down the aisle, followed by Dominic’s kids, his sister Gina and Isabel and the rest of the party.

The reception began with a blessing from Father Tom, the priest of the local Catholic church and a close family friend. His words evoked both laughter and tears, and as always, his appearance evoked stunned looks from the women present, as he had the kind of Hollywood handsomeness that stopped traffic. Then the band started up with some surprising covers of ’80s dance tunes to get everyone in the mood. Servers moved among the guests with trays of hors d’oeuvres and the signature cocktail, champagne with a honey infused liqueur and a delicate spiral twist of lemon.

The banquet was bursting with color and flavor—flower-sprinkled salads, savory chili roasted salmon, honey glazed ribs, just-harvested sweet corn, lush tomatoes and berries, artisan cheeses. Everything had been harvested within a fifty-mile radius of Bella Vista.

The cake was exactly what Tess had requested, a gorgeous tower of sweetness. Tess offered a gracious speech as she and Dominic cut the first slices. “I’ve come a long way from the city girl who subsisted on Red Bull and microwave burritos,” she said. “There’s quite a list of people to thank for that—my wonderful mother, my grandfather and my beautiful sister who created this place of celebration. Most of all, I’m grateful to Dominic.” She turned to him, offering the first piece on a yellow china plate. “You’re my heart, and there is no sweeter feeling than the love we share. Not even this cake. Wait, that might be overstating it. Everyone, be sure you taste this cake. It’s one of Isabel’s best recipes.”

In addition to emotional toasts from friends and family members, there were special songs. Playing the acoustic guitar, Jamie sang “Reign of Love” with heartfelt tenderness, offering the melody like a gift floating on the breeze. Then the mariachis did a rendition of “Crazy Train” that was oddly evocative, with the blare of trumpets and unexpected vocals.

The bridal couple’s first dance took everyone’s breath away, because no one was expecting Tess and Dominic to perform a well-executed and stylish tango to
“Por Una Cabeza.”
But it was a later dance that brought a sigh to everyone’s lips. Magnus and Annelise danced a beautiful waltz to “Rose of My Heart.” Their old-fashioned dignity gave new meaning to the Johnny Cash lyrics. Isabel grew teary-eyed, thinking about the history the two of them shared, reaching all the way back to their childhood years in Copenhagen. The dangers and tragedies they had survived seemed to fade away as they slowly turned through the steps of the waltz, totally absorbed in one another.

Standing at the edge of the dance floor, Isabel felt Mac’s presence behind her. She was so finely tuned to him that she recognized the quality of warmth he exuded and the unique scent of him. “It’s never too late to fall in love,” he said, watching her grandfather.

“Are they in love?” she asked.

“Looks that way to me. We’ll have to see how fast she dives for the bouquet when the bride tosses it.”

She laughed at the mental image. “Right.”

“Would it bother you if the two of them....”

She turned and smiled up at him. “No. Of course not. Bubbie’s been gone a long time. I want Grandfather to be happy.”

“He’s looking happy now.”

She nodded. “I didn’t know he was such a good dancer.”

“I bet you didn’t know
I’m
a good dancer,” he said, cupping his hands around her waist.

“Really?”

The band started up with “The Way You Look Tonight.”

“What about your knee?” she asked.

“The knee’s fine. The knee can handle dancing with you.” He offered a formal bow and held out his hand, palm up. “Try me.”

She happily complied, and yes, he did surprise her. “You’re showing me up,” she said.

“Just let me lead, and you’ll be fine.”

“Where did you learn to dance like this?”

“With all those brothers, I’m an old hand at weddings,” he said. “Toasting, roasting and dancing are the primary duties of the groom’s brothers.”

“Good to know. And by the way, thank you for the shoes.”

“You needed dancing shoes.”

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“Me, neither. Your friends in the boutique helped.”

“Well, thank you again. Now, be quiet. I need to concentrate.” She loved the way the silk dress moved, and she loved the idea that it had once belonged to her mother. She loved the twinkling lights strung from the rafters, and the purple twilight visible through the tall open doors. She loved the couture shoes, especially the fact that Mac had gone to the trouble to get them. She loved the way she felt in his arms.

“I have to ask,” she said. “I can’t help myself. Did you dance at your own wedding?”

He stiffened; she could feel the tenseness in the muscles of his arm. “It wasn’t like that,” he said.

“Oh. Maybe someday you’ll tell me what it was like.”