near the table at the far end of the room, she watched Angelica and Brett feed each other bites of cake with the tidiest of manners. When her brother brushed an errant crumb from his bride’s bottom lip, a hot press of tears burned at the back of Mac’s eyes, which she ruthlessly held back.
God, how was she going to make it through two more of these darn events?
Poppy was the family crier, but Mac was on perilous ground herself and thanked God she was recruited to pass out slices of cake. A diversion was necessary. Moving among the guests wasn’t as much of a reprieve as she’d hoped, however. It was easy to agree about the bride’s beaming smile and the groom’s clear dedication to his new wife. But other comments weren’t so simple to smile through.
When will we see you married, Mac?
Why hasn’t some man finally put a wedding band on your finger?
Whatever happened to that boy of yours...that Zan Elliott?
At this last, she stopped short, staring down at tiny Carmen Lind, who had to be closing in on ninety and wore her silver hair braided in a crown on top of her head. “What made you think of him, Mrs. Lind?” Mac asked, through a suddenly tight throat.
The little lady dug into her cake with relish. “Who, dear?”
“You mentioned Zan.”
“Who?”
Mac smiled a little. “Zan Elliott. You just brought up his name.”
“Oh, yes. Such a good-looking young man. But he got into a lot of trouble, I recall. Those bad boys always catch a girl’s eye, don’t they?”
At nine years old, Mac’s big brother had brought Zan around one day, and she’d tagged after the two boys until Brett knocked her down into a pile of pine needles. Already she’d been too stubborn to cry or complain. Instead, she’d thrown a pinecone at Brett in retaliation and her bad aim meant it nailed Zan in the butt. He’d whirled, laughter glittering in his eyes, then leaped on her to “shampoo” her hair with a handful of dusty needles.
Red-faced and sneezing, she’d handed her heart over to him.
It had been that fast. That simple.
Mrs. Lind glanced around, her fork in midair. “You know, I thought I saw him a few minutes ago. Did he come to congratulate your brother?”
Brett. Mac whipped her head around, searching out the groom. If Zan had returned, surely he would have spoken with Brett.
It wasn’t easy getting a quiet moment with the groom, though. The reception was wrapping up and it seemed that each guest needed to pause on their way out the door for a short word with the new couple. She hung in their periphery, intent upon swooping in as soon as her brother was free.
Finally, the only people left in Mr. Frank’s were the bridal party and the bartender. While her sisters went to a back room to help Angelica out of her gown and into something warmer for the ride home, Mac snagged her brother by the sleeve.
“Hey, I’ve got to ask you something.”
“Me first,” Brett said. “I’m going to drive the car around. In about five minutes, when you hear me honk the horn, bring my bride outside, okay?”
“Okay. But—”
“No time, Mac. I want this to go perfectly.” Then he strode away.
Vexed, Mac huffed out a sigh. But then Angelica came back into the main room, still managing to look bridal in a pair of leggings and an off-white winter coat, the hood lined in pale pink fleece. Her cheeks matched the color and her obvious happiness couldn’t help but spill over on everyone within ten feet.
Mac exchanged smiles with her sisters. “Lucky brother,” she said, then hooked her arm in Angelica’s. “Lucky us to get such a wonderful new sister.”
Tears swam in the bride’s eyes.
“None of that now,” Mac admonished. “I’m determined to keep my composure.”
Poppy’s fiancé, Ryan, had already handed Poppy his handkerchief. Shay was digging through her man Jace’s suit pocket for his.
“C’mon, guys,” Mac scolded. “This is a celebration.” Then she heard the sound of a car horn. “That’s our cue.”
Angelica didn’t resist as Mac pulled her toward the front door. When Mac threw it open, they stood in the doorway, silenced by the sight in front of them.
A sturdy SUV stood angled at the curb, a vehicle made for the mountains with its heavy-duty snow tires. But instead of being the usual black or silver or white, the paint job was a profusion of flowers in pink and green and yellow and blue.
Jace cleared his throat. “Check out the license plate.”
Mac redirected her attention. Seven letters spelled out WLKRWIF.
“Walker wife,” Angelica whispered, then hiccuped a sob.
“Oh, jeez,” Mac said, even though her heart was being squeezed like a sponge. “You’ve turned sappy, bro.”
But Brett only grinned as he pulled his bride into his arms. “You’re a real mountain girl now,” he told her.
“I’m your mountain wife,” Angelica said, pressing her cheek to his chest. She let out her breath in a shuddering sigh. “You know what I need.”
“I do.” He kissed the top of her hair. “And I’ll always do my very best to give it to you.”
Angelica looked back at the car, smiled. “What made you think of spring on four wheels?”
“Because you’re every season of my heart.”
On the brink of losing control of her own sentiments, Mac walked away, pushing past Shay and Jace and Poppy and Ryan, both couples moved by the moment into their own hugs and kisses. The closeness of the pairs was cutting her to the bone and another moment witnessing their happiness might have her bawling like a baby. Single. Alone.
Who would have thought Brett had such a grand gesture in him? The SUV symbolized that Angelica had carved her place as a Walker in their mountains. But he’d made it all her own by painting it to please his bride’s very feminine side.
“Mom always said,” she murmured to the empty room, as she went in to collect her belongings, “there’s something irresistible and utterly grand about a grand gesture.”
Reaching her place at the long table where the bridal party had sat, she snatched up her coat from the back of the chair and tucked her tiny evening purse in the outside pocket. Then she looked at the bouquet. Maybe she’d leave it there.
But that might hurt Angelica’s feelings. So she scooped it up and brought the cool petals of the roses to her nose. As she drew in their sweet fragrance, her gaze landed on the cocktail napkin that had been tucked beneath them.
Emotions bombarded her. Elation. Anticipation. Thrill. Then the lessons learned through heartache had her locking down
