Then she checked the time and realized she could sneak back to Uncle Trib’s house for a quick nap.
She’d need it, for it was going to be a late night.
* * *
Ben had hopedto see Callie at Tremaine Tower when he stopped by early in the afternoon on New Year’s Eve, but he learned she’d already left and wouldn’t be back until the bride and groom showed up around eleven pm.
The place looked really nice—especially the elegant white forest of trees on the balcony. The tiny lights would be beautiful at night, and now that he saw the candles he realized he’d always known what a hurricane was—he just didn’t know that it had a special name.
He felt a spurt of pride that such a unique and successful event looked ready to go off without a hitch.
Although he’d been looking forward to seeing Callie before the whirlwind of the evening, he was also pleased he was able to access the clock tower room without her being present…because he had one little adjustment to make to the decor.
Eleven
Iva Bergstrom wasthe most beautiful bride Callie had ever seen—and that was saying something, as she’d worked on over four hundred weddings during her eight-year career in event planning.
The bride’s apple cheeks glowed even more pink and pretty than usual, and her blue eyes sparkled with delight and liveliness—even at eleven o’clock at night when she would normally be sound asleep. She wore a round hat of silvery-white fur just barely tipped with black, and her own silver-white hair curled gently below it.
Two-inch square glittery earrings clung to her ears. Callie was certain the earrings were vintage from the fifties, with rows of baguette-cut crystals positioned in alternating directions…or maybe they were real diamonds; who knew. The bride wore no other jewelry. She didn’t need to, for her evening suit dress required no further adornment.
The suit was simple, with smooth lines that nipped in a little at the waist, then followed the same straight fit down over her hips without a peplum. Dramatic lapels made from the same fur as her hat created a shallow vee neckline, but the lapels were long—extending from shoulder to where they narrowed and met at a single sparkling button that matched the earrings, fastened just below the breastbone.
Iva’s skirt was floor length, showing just enough of her shoes to reveal the glittery toes that peeped out when she stood for photographs. She wore gloves generously banded with the same fur, and they fit over the wrists of her long, fitted sleeves.
The hat, lapels, and gloves could—if the bride chose—be removed when she went inside for the small reception. But the suit was made from fine wool with a subtle sheen, and would keep her warm while on the balcony.
Hollis Nath, a distinguished-looking and handsome man in his early seventies, wore a classic black tux. His vest and ascot were the same color as his bride’s suit, of course, and in deference to the weather, he wore leather gloves and a fine black wool scarf draped over his shoulders. He was hatless. His handsome face was lit with joy, and his cheeks flushed with happiness as well as from the brisk air.
The two had decided against attendants—for a number of reasons, including, Callie was certain, the fact that it would be impossible for Iva to choose bridesmaids from among her Tuesday Ladies and Fiona. Hollis’s beloved grandson Gideon—who was Fiona’s serious boyfriend—had been fine with not being a groomsman while his grandfather married the love of his life.
“That way I can keep my own future bride warm,” he teased Fiona—who claimed she was allergic to commitment.
She looked up at him with a teasing grin. “We’ll talk!”
The bride and groom stood on the balcony, looking down at the hundred or so people who’d gathered below. They chatted and called down to their friends from their twenty-foot-high perch. Most of the crowd were invited guests, but there were others who’d come to the square to count down to midnight and watch the ball light up.
The area below the balcony, along with several walkways, had been cleared of snow. Five different fire pits had been arranged in the area, and they blazed with welcome heat. The caterers walked around with s’mores prepared on wooden skewers, inviting the guests to toast them on the fire pits. They also offered hot chocolate, tea, and coffee—spiked or unspiked.
Maxine and Juanita had camped out in front of the fire pit closest to the balcony. Bruce Banner was dressed in a thick sweater that looked like a tuxedo, and he wore a jaunty white tie on his collar. Standing next to them was Doc Horner, the town veterinarian and the object of Juanita’s marital interest for over a decade. Perhaps she was hoping the idea of the wedding would rub off on him, Callie thought. Orbra and her trucker husband (who happened to be in town for once) stood next to them, along with the poor server whom Maxine had banned from leaving their proximity until the tray of s’mores needed to be refilled.
Maxine was currently badgering a different server—who held a tray of drinks—to add extra Bailey’s to her next hot chocolate.
Cherry and William Reckless—who was her high school flame, a tall, lean man who’d just returned from seven years in Tibet—wandered over to say hi to Bruce Banner and the others. They were holding steaming drinks of Orbra’s Honeybear Hot Toddy—tea spiked with whiskey and a syrup made from orange peel, honey, and sage. Callie could identify the drink from a distance due to the orange garnish perched on the cup rim and she nodded to herself. That was her favorite of the hot beverage offerings tonight.
Fiona and Gideon stood near a different roaring fire, and were joined by Declan, the blacksmith, and Leslie Nakano, whom Callie knew owned the Shenstone House bed and breakfast—with its hidden speakeasy—up on the hill. They were chatting with another couple whom Callie hadn’t met, but she knew the pretty blond woman was the owner of the stage theater in town and her date was a doctor who made fresh bread in his spare time1. Her heart skipped a little beat when she noticed Ben Tremaine standing there too, and she watched for a moment to see whether he’d brought a date.
Not that it mattered. He’d already made it clear that he wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship.
But still…it was New Year’s Eve, and she simply couldn’t help remembering what happened sixteen years ago. Like it or not, it was an anniversary of sorts.
The clock struck eleven-thirty, and despite the disappointment of her unrequited crush, Callie was filled with her own burst of energy and pleasure.
Everything was going just perfectly. She’d been on and off the balcony, up and down the stairs (she’d change into heels for the reception later; but for now, she wore comfortable, warm shoes), checked on the caterers (not that they needed checking as they were Trib’s), and now she would head back inside to be there before the ceremony began.
She paused to speak to one of the servers, then said hi to Maxine, Juanita, and company. She told herself she was only doing her job when she stopped at the cluster of people with Fiona, Gideon, Ben, and the others. She was proud of herself when her greeting to Ben was warm and casual, and even accepted a friendly hug from him as he congratulated her on a beautiful event.
Dang, he smelledgood. A little smoky from the fire, a little wintry from the air, and something else that was fresh and clean andyummy.
