Epilogue
Missy
Three months later…
The little whitechurch tucked in the back of Gingerbread like an afterthought is most certainly on the forefront of everybody’s minds on this, the second Saturday of March. It’s certainly on my mind since I’ll be lost in wedded bliss in less than a few hours. Wedded bliss. My insides quiver as I think of all it entails. Today marks the start of a life with Graham Holiday as my husband, and I can’t help but lose myself in trying to memorize every last detail the moment has to offer.
“Let’s get inside!” Holly screams as she bustles past me along with a small army of strangers my wedding planner hired to make sure this day goes off without a hitch.
Graham wanted to hire a fancy wedding planner from New York who could make all of my wedding fantasies come true. But luckily, I stopped him before he could fly her out. It turns out that Mayor Todd’s wife, Rose, her sister Ruby—the very one that sold Noel to my mother is a renowned wedding planner from Denver. Ruby has been the biggest blessing of all. Once I told her I basically had zero wedding fantasies and have never created a Pinterest board that had anything to do with matrimony, she narrowed the themes down to a few choices: rustic, classic, and fairy tale. I chose a combination of all three, which only made her shake her head. I’m pretty sure I’ve inadvertently turned into her most difficult client yet and simultaneously the easiest going. I’ve basically said yes to whatever she’s suggested. I’ll be just as surprised by the details as our guests will be. I already have my every dream coming true. I’m marrying Graham Holiday.
It’s been a whirlwind these last three months, what with him closing up shop in New York and moving back to Gingerbread lock, stock, and barrel. I went with him twice to close out his last few deals and hire movers to pack and pedal all of his rather expensive wares clear across the country. While we were there, we took in four shows on Broadway—something he says he never took the time to do, so it was virtually new to both of us. They were spectacular, and he’s officially dubbed me a theater buff, thus promising to bring me back once a year to keep up my new addiction. We ate at an Irish pub with the most delectable menu that I will never forget. Gingerbread needs an Irish Pub stat. The shepherd’s pie was todiefor. And, of course, we had deep-dish pizza in Little Italy that blew our minds. We will never breathe a word of it to the owners of Angelino’s. And once we were back in Gingerbread, Graham put his things in storage and continued to rent the Spitzers’ place. He only has the rental until the end of the month because they are actually coming home for the spring and summer. But Graham won’t be needing their place after today because he’ll be moving in with me until we can build our dream house by the lake. Graham and I knew we wanted to live in Gingerbread, and as much as I love my tiny house, it’s just that, tiny. Plus, I love the thought of a fresh start. Graham and I designed every inch of our new home with an architect. Now if we could only fast-forward to the day we move in. Until then, Graham and I will be comfy cozy in my itty-bitty abode just as soon as we get back from our honeymoon.Honeymoon! I’m so excited about the quasi-requisite vacation that I almost forgot to bring my shoes to the church. Graham and I decided to spend an entire month in Hawaii basking in the warmth of the sun—or more to the point, the comfort of air conditioning while discovering all the interesting things to do behind closed quarters.
Holly pokes her head out of the bright blue door, and her blonde hair blows in the wind. “Missy! Get in here! We’re short one bride!”
“Coming!” I give a quick wave as she ducks back into the building. I give one final look around Gingerbread with its blue skies, the lake in the distance, snow still on the north facing side of the mountain, but the spring grass is here, along with fields of lavender, and mustard weeds with their pretty yellow sprays. If I stand on my tiptoes, I can see the evergreen on Main Street that’s decorated as the town tree each year. Then if I look left, I can almost see my own neighborhood. It’s the very spot where Graham and I shared our first blissful kiss. I look back at the church and take a deep breath. And that’s the very spot where Graham and I will share our first kiss as husband and wife. Tears come to my eyes, and I do my best to blink them back. The world will be different—brand new again, once I step out of that church later this afternoon. It’s going to be better. Much, much better.
I scuttle inside, careful not to slip on the gravel in the parking lot as I make my way to the beautiful church. As soon as I set foot inside, the floral scent of roses fills my senses. I blow past the foyer and peek my head into the sanctuary, and this time I buck with tears. I knew it would be beautiful, but this is beyond anything I could have asked for. Miles of pink old English roses and peonies are strung together like garland as they traipse up and down the pews, all the way down the aisle. A floral arch has been erected in front of the altar with a plethora of flowers draped over it, thick like a blanket. Ruby assured me a floral arch at an indoor event is all the rage back in New York and L.A., and being the amicable bride I am, of course, I agreed to it. But looking at it in person just blows my mind. I can’t imagine there are any flowers on the free market left to sell. They’re all right here in Gingerbread at my wedding.
“Missy!” Holly runs out of the bridal room in a robe, pink sponge curlers in her hair, and one fake eyelash attached crooked to her lid. I can’t help but think she looks like she’s getting ready to go trick-or-treating. “I am going to leash you to the chair!” She scuttles us over to the open door on the side of the foyer and inside its beauty central. The makeup artist Ruby hired has fanned out all of her pastel goodies, and Savanah is knee-deep in brushes, her face glowing like a bright red light bulb.
“Savy!” Holly shrieks and takes off to help remove the pink dust from her daughter’s face.
“You must be the bride!” A tall, beautiful woman with makeup so thick it looks as if she applied it with a frosting knife plunks me in what looks like a massage chair and begins manhandling my face as if it were her own. “My name is Myrna. Just relax. I’m going to make you look like a doll!”
And that’s what I’m afraid of.
Ruby appears with a petite blonde by her side. “And this is Ari,” she over enunciates, most likely because it looks as if I’m only paying half-attention. She would be, too, if she just had lotion slathered all over her face. “She’s going to do your hair.”
“Loose curls,” I say in the event the makeup artist glues my lips shut. “Just something natural. I want to look like myself.” I glare up at the brunette who seems to have a vendetta out on my cheeks.
A sudden breeze whooshes in just as my mother strides into the room. “Sam and I are here!” she trills, and I glance toward the door to see Samantha, my soon to be mother-in-law, traipsing in behind her. “What did we miss? What do we do? My goodness, where are our dresses?” she shrieks each word out as if there was a fire in the building.
Holly holds up a hand in my direction. “I’ve got this,” she assures before systematically attending to my mother’s panic attack. Holly promised me that she’d keep a lid on our mother and her panache for spiraling wildly out of control. On poor Holly’s wedding day, Mom had a full-blown panic attack that involved the paramedics and a defibrillator.
Savanah bops over with her cute little robe and kitten heels with pink feathers wafting in the breeze. “I painted my nails.” She extends a tiny little hand dotted with bright pink polish.
“I love them. You look quite elegant today.” And she does. Savy is a beautiful girl any day of the week, but throw in a little primping, and she’s a supermodel in the making.
“My mom says you’re going to have all the fun while she pulls her hair out for two weeks.” She makes a face. “And that Noel will probably make brownies in my room and eat all of Daddy’s shoes.”
“She might be right—but it’s actually for an entire month. You and Noel should be best friends by then. Word to the wise, hide your best boots.” I wince as my sister does her best to call Savanah over.
“Hard truths on my wedding day,” I shout over to her, and she gives a playful scowl. “It’s true, though. Noel hasn’t quite grown out of her shoe eating phase. On an up note, I think I just figured out a way to get you a whole new shoe wardrobe. And you’re welcome.”
Mom scoffs as the hairdresser combs out her locks. “Send her to my house next! Your father is so cheap he squeaks.”
“I advise you to get a puppy of your own.” I don’t dare send Noel to my mother’s house unsupervised. It’s a well-known fact that she feeds her table scraps every chance she gets. I can’t blame her. Once Noel gives you those sad brown eyes, you’ll want to do anything to lift her spirits. She’s a master manipulator at its finest.
Samantha chortles out a laugh. “Last week, Noel ate a hole right through Ron’s golf bag. I had no idea he knew so many colorful words.
Great. My future father-in-law most likely already has a squabble with me. I don’t foresee rough waters with either Samantha or Ron, though. We get together at least once a week for dinner, and they’ve both insisted that I call them Mom and Dad. I’ll admit, it felt odd the first few times, but now it feels like second nature. The only time I seem to hold back is when my own parents are in the room.
An hour drifts by, then two, and soon I’m admiring myself in the full-length mirror in my snow-white wedding dress with its sweetheart neckline and Italian lace sleeves. My mother and Holly helped me whittle the selections down from a couple hundred to this perfect virginal dream. Holly and Mom took one look at it on me, and the three of us broke down and cried—so much so that the bridal shop insisted I take it off before I washed it with mascara.
And speaking of which, Mom and Sam have already cried off their makeup twice to be exact—and after the third application, Myrna, the makeup artist, suggested they wait in the sanctuary with the rest of the guests. I figured it was costing her some serious inventory to keep reapplying all of those formidable layers that make both Sam and Mom look that much more like the beauties they are.
Savy breezes back into the room. “Auntie Missy, I’ve got a note! It’s a love letter from Uncle Graham.” My heart melts each time she calls him that. Holly thought it was best to start right away, and by New Year’s Eve, Savy wouldn’t call him anything else.
