“Amen,” the other three chorused.
“Mom, everyone’s waiting for you.”
Tonya stared at Wyatt Lowell standing in the hallway outside the suite. Hannah had asked her son to give her away in marriage. When he had arrived at DuPont House for the rehearsal and the dinner that followed, she noticed many of the women in attendance staring at him. Tall, dark-haired, and deeply tanned, the pilot, wearing a tailored tuxedo, looked as if he’d just stepped off the pages ofGQ. Hannah had spoken proudly of her son, who’d graduated from the U.S. Air Force Academy and become a test pilot. After fulfilling his commitment to the military, he went on to fly commercial jets for a major airline carrier.
Tonya noticed he was extremely attentive to his attractive stay-at-home wife and two young sons, wondering if he felt guilty about having to leave his family for extended periods of time when he was reassigned to international routes on which he flew to many to Asian countries.
Hannah inhaled, and then slowly let out her breath. “I’m ready.”
Lifting the hem of Hannah’s skirt, Tonya, Jasmine, and Nydia followed Hannah and Wyatt along the hallway to the rear of the house. They descended the staircase to a door opening out onto the path leading to the meticulously maintained garden.
The weather had decided to cooperate. Although warm, the humidity wasn’t oppressive, and there was a hint of a breeze blowing in off the waterways surrounding the city. Hannah had insisted on simplicity, refusing to wear a veil or carry a bouquet of flowers. The only allowance for flowers were the ones in her hair and the orange blossom boutonnieres worn by St. John; Daniel McNair, St. John’s father and best man; his cousin Eustace Toussaint; and brother-in-law Kenneth Vernon.
Two large white tents were set up in the garden; chairs covered in white organza and tied with orange satin ribbons were set up theater-style under one, and round tables with folding chairs and several long tables with chafing dishes under another, while dozens of burning citronella candles kept insects away. The mouthwatering aromas wafting in the air reminded Tonya that she needed more than a green salad and melon for her to sustain her energy.
She still could not wrap her head around the fact that within three months she would move from New York to put down roots in a suburb of New Orleans. She would leave behind the sound of car horns and the incessant wailing from emergency vehicles around the clock. And instead of crowding into a subway car like sardines in a tin can to reach her job, she would walk less than a hundred feet to guesthouses that would be configured into a café for a buffet breakfast for the inn’s guests and a supper club for the general public.
At exactly four o’clock, the wedding planner ushered everyone into their places as the string quartet playing concertos segued into the Anita Baker classic hit “Just Because.” The song was also one of Tonya’s favorites. She was moved by the heartfelt lyrics—“I love you because you’re you”—and it was obvious to Tonya just looking at Hannah and St. John, they truly did love each other because of who they were.
There had been a time when she believed she and Samuel were going to spend their entire lives together, but unfortunately it was not to be. If only he had allowed her to follow her dream, she knew they still would be married. The most difficult decision she had had to make was depriving Samara of growing up with her father, because Samuel had not grown up with his. She agreed to allow Samuel visitation, but after two years he stopped coming to see his daughter. He had married again and become the father of twin boys. For him, Samara was out of sight and out of mind.
A videographer and photographer took their positions and captured every action and image for posterity. Tonya smiled at St. John’s father as he offered her his arm. The former New Orleans police officer looked incredibly elegant in formal wear. The skin around his light-brown eyes crinkled when he returned her smile with a gentle one of his own. When she met Daniel McNair for the first time, she never would have guessed that he had recently celebrated his eightieth birthday.
They processed slowly down the flagstone path, which was strewn with white rose petals, stopping several feet from the pergola of climbing white roses where the black-robed officiant waited to begin the ceremony. Her smile grew wider when she saw Daniel exchange a fist-bump with St. John as father and son stood next to each other. Jasmine followed, escorted by Eustace, and then Nydia with Kenneth.
The garden at DuPont House was the perfect setting for an afternoon autumn wedding. There was no deck, patio, porch, or terrace separating the house from the garden, and the flagstone path reminded Tonya of a carpet leading into a fairy tale–like, year-round Garden of Eden, with trees, mosses, grasses, and colorful flowers seemingly growing in wild abandon.
The day before, she lingered in the garden before the rehearsal and admired the variegated grasses, climbing ivy and roses, succulents, and arbor of fruit trees. Tucked away in an area where seeded ornamental grasses grew to a height of two feet were all-weather benches and chairs positioned just feet from a man-made waterfall filled with koi. Having the garden so close to the guesthouses would be convenient once she planted a vegetable and herb garden. As a chef, she knew freshly picked fruit, vegetables, and herbs were certain to enhance the flavors of any dish.
The quartet playing the familiar strains of the “Wedding March” shattered her musings. Tonya could not pull her eyes away from St. John’s face when Wyatt led Hannah down the path, and he stood with his father. Nothing on him moved, not even his eyes. And it was not for the first time she felt that Hannah had been given a second chance at love with a man with whom she would spend the rest of her life. Hannah and St. John were the perfect pair. Both were tall, slender, and extremely attractive.
The first time Hannah introduced her to St. John, Tonya was taken aback by his good looks, intelligence, and sophistication. Rays of sunlight filtering through the ancient oak trees shrouded in Spanish moss illuminated St. John’s deeply tanned tawny face and cropped silver hair. His neatly barbered mustache and goatee added character to his lean face. It was only when the minister asked who was giving the bride away in marriage that a hint of a smile tilted the corners of his mouth at the same time he extended his left hand to Hannah.
Even though Hannah had insisted on simplicity, there still was an atmosphere in the garden that reflected an ethereal elegance. All the groomsmen wore tuxedos, dress shirts with wing collars, and orange silk bowties, while St. John added an orange satin vest under his tuxedo jacket. Tonya felt moisture pricking the backs of her eyelids when Wyatt placed his mother’s hand in St. John’s outstretched one, the younger man kissing her hair.
At the rehearsal dinner Wyatt’s ten-year-old son had asked Hannah that if she was their grandmother, then was St. John their grandfather? It had been Wyatt who told them yes, he was, because his father had died before his first son’s second birthday. Both boys appeared overjoyed they now had two grandmothers and two grandfathers.
Time seemed to stand still as Hannah and St. John exchanged vows, followed by an exchange of bands. When the minister gave St. John permission to kiss his wife, those in attendance applauded and whistled as he kissed her and lifted her off her feet. Her face was nearly the color of the orange blossoms in her husband’s boutonniere as they traversed the path amid a shower of flower petals. Tonya followed the newly married couple, her left hand cradled in the bend of Daniel’s elbow.
* * *
Time seemed to go by in slow motion for Tonya as she posed for photographs with the wedding party, the bride and groom’s parents, and family members before she and the other bridesmaids headed into the tent where the cocktail hour was winding down. She managed to nibble on bite-size morsels of cocktail corn cakes with spicy mango salsa, buckwheat blinis with sour cream and caviar, and deviled eggs with red caviar, while washing them down with a glass of bubbly rosé champagne. It was enough to stave off hunger until dinner. Lifting the hem of her gown, she filed into the house with the rest of the wedding party and into the ballroom where tables were set up banquet-style.
Light from a quartet of chandeliers shimmered off collections of heirloom table settings of bone-white china, delicate crystal stemware, and gleaming silver engraved with a bold D in Edwardian script. Tonya tried imagining women from a bygone era who once graced this same ballroom in one of the grandest houses in the Garden District, coquettish women peering over their lacy fans at fastidiously dressed suitors seeking to woo them as wives or mistresses. Hannah had related tales about the historic house, filled with priceless antiques, that had become the residence to generations of DuPonts, beginning with Etienne DuPont who left France for Haiti in the eighteenth century. He then traveled to the Louisiana Territory with his mixed-race mistress and their children to begin a legacy that continued to the present day.
Hannah had contracted with two catering companies for the cocktail hour and dinner. Guests were offered a choice of the traditional steak, chicken, and fish plates or the southern Louisiana regional Creole and Cajun dishes. Eustace, owner of the family’s restaurant Chez Toussaints, exchanged his tuxedo jacket for a chef’s coat and hat. He joked that he had the distinctive honor of being St. John’s groomsmanandthe caterer for his cousin’s wedding.
A member of the waitstaff directed Tonya to her seat at a table where she was flanked by two men. The man on her left introduced himself as Paul Lee, St. John’s colleague. The exquisitely attired man on her right made her acquaintance as Cameron Singleton, the bride’s investment banker. Hannah, who did not want a table for the bridal party, had instructed the planner to seat complete strangers next to each other. It allowed everyone to become acquainted with one another, while she and St. John were seated facing each other at opposite ends of the table.
“How long have you known Hannah?” Cameron Singleton asked Tonya.
She gave Cameron a sidelong glance. Everything about his deportment was a reminder of the wealthy Wakefield Hamilton clients seeking to invest their vast fortunes in American companies. They arrived in chauffeured-driven cars wearing haute couture and were greeted in their native tongues by multilingual employees and then escorted to the executive dining room for meals rivaling White House state dinners.
Cameron’s clean-shaven, tanned face and classically handsome features radiated good health, while flecks of gray shimmered like gold in his thick, fashionably styled light-brown hair. It was when she met his steel-blue eyes that she felt slightly uncomfortable. It was as if there was no warmth behind the penetrating orbs.
“It’s been about five years. We worked together in New York.”
“Are you also an attorney?” he asked.
