We spent the winter renovating the lake house, bringing in contractors for the big stuff and doing the little fixes ourselves, slowly making it into a home.
Our home.
A special family place like PopPop always wanted.
No, we can’t settle in permanently with the kids going to school in New York and both of us taking frequent business trips. We’ve been to LA more times than I can count over the past few months while fashionistas and tech savvy marketers planned out how to launch Orthique into orbit.
Sure, I’m endlessly grateful for the shoe dream becoming a reality, but it has nothing on becoming Mrs. Kane Saint.
And just like Ethan, I have Gramps’ whimsy to thank for that.
What better way to honor him than by making the old house into a stunning new place worthy of becoming our home base?
For real.
I don’t know how to process being this happy.
It feels wrong.
Like I can’t possibly keep smiling this much without some big, scary thing coming around the corner to crash the vibe.
Today, though, that scary thing is just me standing in front of a hundred people and hoping I can get my heart out in the vows we’ve rehearsed before I seize up.
Hattie adjusts the pale-blue dress she’s wearing. Who else would be my maid of honor?
If I wasn’t the bride, I might say she outshines me in the sleek satin, all her curves on display.
“Okay, here we go.” Hattie brushes my dress down, making sure there are no flaws. “Ready to walk the aisle, princess?”
“Hattie. I’m not five.”
“It’s your wedding day! Every girl’s entitled to the royal treatment,” she says firmly and unhooks the dress from where it’s resting on the closet door.
“You heard the lady. Everyone’s a princess.” My little cousin, Cleo, nods from the corner, slouched in a chair with her massive sketchpad. “Them’s the rules and I don’t make them.”
“Just wait foryourwedding day, Clee. You’ll love the rules I make up then.”
“Oh, no.” She flushes and shakes her head like the shy little art geek she is. “I’ll let you and Ethan have all the fun. I don’t need that much crazy in my life.”
I shoot Hattie a knowing look.
“You haven’t chatted up Jackie Wilkes about the will yet, have you?”
Cleo shakes her head, the bright-pink highlights in her hair flashing.
“Man, I just wonder if Gramps saved the best for last. What if he sends you off to a dinosaur dig and you wind up engaged to a hot archaeologist or something?”
“Oh my God, can we stop?” Her face is a ripe tomato.
“She has a point. Let’s get back to your wedding day, Gigi.” Hattie looks smugly satisfied as she studies my face in the mirror for any touch-ups needed. “The rules say you have to be smack-dab gorgeous, and I’m not letting you walk out there looking like anything less. I have to return the favor.”
“True, you had some help from yours truly,” I say with a grin. “Your mom wasn’t half-bad either.”
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, and she grins back, nodding to the makeup brush in my hand.
“Yet here you are, doing your own makeup like a pro. Youknowhow good you’ll look when the dust settles. I’m here for moral support.”
It’s true. I didn’t want to bring anyone all the way out here just to make my face a wedding mask.
