Page 52 of George’s Big Day

“Fine. I’ll show up.”

“And bring Kurt.”

“I dunno.”

“What?”

“Kurt’s a psychiatrist. He can read people. Maybe that’s not a great idea.”

He shook his head. “Fuck off. He ain’t reading nothing.”

I laughed at him. “Okay.”

“Yes?” he pushed, because Ian Doyle always pushed.

“Yes. We’ll be there.”

“Good.”

I started pacing again.

“Why are you doing that?” he asked, gesturing at me as he stood up, walking over to the table to put on his watch and his suit jacket.

“I’m nervous.”

“No, I get that. I just don’t understand the reason.”

“I don’t want to screw up.”

“Screw up what?”

“I dunno. Vows, whatever.”

He shook his head. “You can’t mess anything up.”

“This is why you got married at city hall, isn’t it? You didn’t want to have to stand up in front of people.”

“No. I wouldn’t have minded a wedding like this, but it was never the right time, and I started to worry that if we kept pushing it back, it might not happen at all. Turned out, Miro was thinking the same thing.”

I nodded.

“But you lucked out with this place. It’s beautiful here, and I love the quiet.”

So did I.

The Fox’s Glove, the charming, beatific establishment Dante Cerreto owned, was in the small town of Venice, Maine. To get there, we had all flown in the day before to the International Airport in Bangor, then driven from there to the B&B, situated on the edge of the Bigelow Preserve, between Bangor and Eustis. When Chris suggested it to me in September, I wasn’t sure about a destination wedding. That didn’t seem at all in keeping with the small, intimate celebration we were planning. But since I said I would consider it, I was on my laptop, checking it out, when Kurt walked by and stopped suddenly, seemingly rooted to the spot. When I glanced at him, I did a double take at how awestruck he appeared.

“Where is that?” he’d asked breathlessly.

Apparently, it had been the place Dante Cerreto had run to, away from the world, after leaving the agency. He didn’t have his job, or his love, so he bought an inn in the middle of nowhere and retreated from life. It was originally called Chalk and Key, which sounded like a murder scene. I suspected that was why he didn’t do much business in the beginning.

He went ahead and hired an amazing staff to be ready for good fortune, and then, suddenly, the universe smiled on him. Dante was reunited with the love of his life, Noah Wheeler, and their daughter, Grace, whom he didn’t even know existed, and amazingly, he got a second chance at his happily ever after with the family he’d always wanted.

The three of them ended up living in Bangor, with Dante driving back and forth to the B&B. They couldn’t raise their daughter here; it was too secluded. She needed friends and a good school, and Noah had to work. But years later, when Grace left for college, Dante and Noah made the transition to living full-time in the sleepy little town of Venice. Noah had agreed on the condition that he could make changes. It was a no-brainer for Dante.

The name of the B&B became the Fox’s Glove, for foxglove, the flower, and mostly for Dante, being the hunted fox, having outwitted all his enemies, all those trying to kill him, and ending up safe and prosperous. I liked the logo, a fox wearing gloves with a walking stick. It bordered on kitschy but didn’t trip over into silliness, because really, foxglove was poisonous, so there was a slight hint of danger there.

On the first floor was a small tavern, the Fox’s Den, and as far as I could tell, everyone traveling by or going to the preserve, as well as the townspeople, all drank there. The restaurant, which was always busy, was called the Wren’s Nest, and Dante had visiting chefs, who were all insanely gifted and on the cutting edge of the culinary world, just stopping by. It worked out wonderfully for me and Kurt, as Nevena Conti, who specialized in elevated comfort food, would be the one making our wedding feast.