“Oh no! It’s too late for cold feet. I won’t allow your Telenovela life to destroy this perfect day.”
“Never! I just want you to be the second person I tell. I’m pregnant.”
He waved. “Pshaw. That’s old news.”
“You knew?” She placed her hand on her tummy.
“Mammuccia,everyoneknows.”
She chortled, thinking she had kept the biggest secret in town.
“What gave it away?”
“Your afternoon siestas for one and, of course, my hypothesis about your little tête-à-tête on the beach in June.” He sighed. “No sense in putting on my biology teacher hat again. Your virile man did exactly as I anticipated he would—knocked you up on the first go after all those years without you. The man was obviously dedicated to winning you back.”
Beaming she replied, “Baby or not, he succeeded.” She tucked her arm into the crook of her dear friend, and they set out toward the lake and the growing music of violins and cellos. “This is really happening,” she whispered. “My elusive happiness. It’s been so long since I felt this content—this complete.”
“Yes, my dear girl, and you deserve it. I couldn’t be any prouder than to give you away to such a man.”
“Thank you for everything. You’ve been so kind to me.”
“Of course! You’re like a daughter to me.”
Walking beneath towering oak trees and sugar maples, her heart hammered, and she couldn’t stop smiling. Romantic music filled the air and the scent of roses floated up from her bouquet, filling her lungs. Wow. Her wedding to William, whichhe planned just for her. Wow. How far they had come in such a short time since Paris.
Emerging from the tree line into the brilliant sunlight, she couldn’t believe her eyes. A magnificent floral archway welcomed her to the small boat landing beside their painting spot. White streamers billowed on the bank of the lake and from their tree. Beyond the archway, her grinning fiancé stood beside Charlie to the right of Aunt Catherine. Charlotte, her matron of honor, stood at the judge’s left side. She half-expected William to run his hand through his hair, but he looked too confident and at peace for that.
Her heart danced, and she fought tears of joy.
Outside the wrought-iron railing, the seated guests stood for her entrance. Gigi, Carrie and Rick (surprise!), Louisa and Hurst, Charlotte’s husband, Cousin Anne, and Charlie’s boss beamed at her arrival. The picturesque, heart-squeezing scene, and all the beautiful people dearest to her, were backdropped by the tranquil lake and Bow Bridge.
Her gaze locked on William, and she was sure he was tearing up. She’d never felt so loved or special in her entire life. The quartet played Urban’s “Making Memories of Us” when she and Guy stepped onto the red rose-petaled runner. Her gaze never left William’s as she floated toward her happy ever after beside the man she loved.
EPILOGUE
November 5 – Anne Darcy’s Moment
Standing beside Anne’s painting “With Love,” Guy and Elizabeth greeted guests for the exclusive Anne Darcy Legacy of Light exhibit.
Laughter and music filled the electrified ambiance of the black-tie evening. Elizabeth couldn’t believe the elite crowd in the small salon had swelled to at least one hundred, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with barely room for the wait staff.
“Tribeca hasn’t seen a gallery A-List turnout like this in decades, dear girl!” Guy effused, looking especially sophisticated in a Mad Men skinny suit and slender tie. He even traded out his white-rimmed Elton John eyeglasses for a more 1960s classic black-rimmed look to match. The look suited him very well.
She grinned, then whispered. “I don’t think Wyn will have this same turnout, but you never know. A lot of his patrons and collectors are here tonight.”
“He certainly owes it to you. I daresay the fire department will close us down before the party really gets started with the auction.”
“Don’t worry about the building code. William is good friends with the Battalion Chief.”
“Of course he is!”
They stopped chatting and greeted several guests, new to the gallery. One had been trying to secure a Darcy painting for years to no avail.
“How are you feeling tonight, honey?” he asked when the visitors passed into the salon.
“Fabulous … and guilty for feeling this incredible, this blessed, this special.”
“Poppycock! You make it sound like happiness is a crime.”
