say we were having an open bar, right?”
Yes, where were Connor and Colleen? Faith checked her phone. No messages. She sent a quick text, asking if they needed help. It was getting to be crunch time. She excused herself and started putting the centerpieces on the tables, which had been covered with pale blue tablecloths.
Prudence approached, a shrimp in each hand. “The place looks beautiful,” she said. She was wearing dress pants and work boots, as well as a low-cut white sweater. An impressive purple hickey stood out on her throat.
“Thanks,” Faith said. “So things are good with Carl?”
Pru shrugged. “Yes and no. I kicked him out.”
“What? Why?”
“We did it the other night, right? Good old married sex, nothing fancy. Finally, right? Then he says he wants to film us—”
“What?”
“Right. So he’s staying at his mother’s. Figured it’ll shake him up a little.”
Faith nodded as if she understood. “Um...you have a big hickey, you know.”
“Really? Damn it. Should’ve looked in the mirror, I guess. Anyway, nice job here!” She poured herself another glass of wine and drank it like it was water.
The DJ asked where he should set up, and Faith directed him to one corner. Then, after two more questions from the caterer had been answered, Faith adjusted the light under the maple tree, fixed the door, which was sticking, and found Pops’s lower denture plate in a gooey nut cookie. She worked the teeth free as Goggy had a fit that Pops was eating nuts when his gastroenterologist specifically said not to. As Jane was eating half her body weight in roughage, Faith asked Mrs. Johnson if she might have any more vegetables, earning a glare from the housekeeper and some dark mutterings about people having evolved enough to cook their food. Faith took that as a yes, ran down to the New House, raided the fridge, cut up red peppers, carrots and broccoli, then cleaned the kitchen at lightning speed, because Mrs. Johnson hated anyone to leave a mess in her workspace. Then she power-walked back up the Hill, in heels, managing not to drop a single pepper slice.
Magical. Yeah, right. She was sweating, how magical was that? And the guests were just starting to trickle in.
Honor appeared at Faith’s side. “Lorena’s here,” she growled. “I thought you took care of that.”
“I didn’t invite her. I guess Dad did.”
“Check out that dress, Faith.”
Lorena was currently kissing Pops on the cheek, bending over the old man, who clearly didn’t mind. And the thing was, Lorena’s dress...the woman had to weigh somewhere around two hundred pounds and was sixty years old if she was a day but, for some reason that went against nature and God’s law, had chosen to wear a skin-tight rubbery black dress. No back. White granny panties, though, clearly visible.
Faith’s breath left her in a rush. “That’s—I...gotta give her points for, um, confidence. Maybe Dad should pay for that boob job. Wow.”
Honor was not amused. “You said you could find him someone, Faith. That other woman, the gardener, is talking about how often she poops, and here’s Lorena, dressed like Lady Gaga. Can’t you do better?” Before Faith could answer, Honor walked away.
With a sigh, Faith went over to say hello to Lorena. “Hello, sweetie!” Lorena boomed. “And just who do we have here?” She was glaring at Jane, who sat next to Dad.
Jane paused in her chewing. “I’m a friend,” she said, looking Lorena up and down.
“A friend? A friend of who?” Lorena asked, her expression lowering.
“A friend of whom? Is that what you mean?” Jane smiled tightly and took another celery stick.
“Cat fight,” Ned murmured as he walked past Faith, phone in his hand.
Next time Faith felt the urge to throw a party, she’d ask Pru to duct tape her into a chair.
And things hadn’t even started.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LEVI PULLED ON HIS suit jacket, the one usually saved for weddings or funerals. The whole town had been invited to old Mr. and Mrs. Holland’s anniversary party, the police chief included. He hadn’t seen Faith much since the night he’d kissed her. Last weekend had been Columbus Day, and what with Sarah home and all the tourists, the biplane show out on the lake, the wine tasting on the green, the wooden boat parade, he hadn’t had a free minute. Not that he knew what he’d do with it, to be honest.
On Monday night, he’d driven Sarah back to school, stopping at Target to get her some stuff to make her dorm room more homey, pillows and girly stuff like that. Then he’d taken Sarah and her roommate out to dinner. Seemed like they were getting along just fine, those two girls.
As he’d said goodbye to his sister, he’d tried to find something to say about their mom, something similar to what Faith had said, but nothing sounded right, so he’d just given her fifty bucks and told her to study hard. Drove back to Manningsport and tried to chop away at the mountain of paperwork on his desk at the station, even if it was ten o’clock at night.
Thought about Faith.
Yeah, she was...delicious. He was a guy, he was straight, she was luscious and lived across the hall from him. Also, she smelled good. And though he’d once viewed her as an irritating puppy of a person, she was...more.
That didn’t mean he wanted to date her. He wasn’t sure he wanted to date anyone right now. His divorce wasn’t even two years old.
He should really stop thinking about her.
Levi drove up the Hill and turned into Blue Heron’s driveway, where a line of cars was heading up the long dirt road that bordered one of the fields. There was a tasteful new sign with the gold and blue vineyard logo on it: The Barn at Blue Heron, 0.4 miles. As ever, it amazed him how much land the Hollands owned.
At the top of the ridge, a field served as a parking lot. Rock walls divided it up, the walls looking as if they’d been there forever, though Levi was pretty sure they were new.
“Levi, hey!” Jeremy approached from the field. Living next door, he must’ve walked over.
“Hey, Jer. How’s it going?”
“Very well, my friend. How are you?”
Levi had heard from Emmaline that Faith and Jeremy had been at O’Rourke’s the other night, laughing it up. The news had caused a ping of jealousy to echo through him. Which was stupid, of course. The two of them had a history. Everyone knew that.
Didn’t stop that pinging, though.
People were streaming toward a path flanked by two maple trees, which were lit from the bottom by small spotlights, casting the yellow leaves in a warm, golden light. The path was wide, a stone wall running along one side, little copper lamps lighting the way. A wood thrush called, and farther away, an owl hooted. Somewhere in the distance was the sound of rushing water.
Suddenly,
