picked out when she turned thirteen. She wished she could flop down on her old double bed and rest for a moment. It might not be as comfy as her king-size bed with its four-hundred-thread-count linens in the city, but she’d appreciate the respite. Plus, the room seemed deliciously cool thanks to the air-conditioning.
But duty called.
She didn’t have time to wash and blow-dry her hair, so she twisted it into a heavy knot on top of her head to keep it from getting wet and stepped in the shower. She stayed under the spray long enough to strip the tension from her muscles from the drive and then a few minutes more. By the time she flicked off the water, she felt much improved.
She decided to leave her hair down, letting it frame her face with its natural waves. Poppy had learned a long time ago not to fight her hair. It was too thick and bouncy to fall into one of those sleek, stylish cuts. And when she’d tried coloring it in her youth—once blond and once a disastrous black that had left little patches of dark all along her hairline—she’d looked like death. So she worked with what she had. Though there were still days she wished she’d inherited her father’s straight brown hair, she’d come to appreciate that not everyone had hair like hers.
She returned to her bedroom, discovered the suitcases on the bed and rooted through until she found the one holding her outfit for tonight. The dress was a tight, cap-sleeve, bandage style in dark blue that made her feel sexy and just a little naughty, even though the hem came almost to her knee and the neckline only hinted at the faux boobs her amazing underwire bra created. Wynn had whistled when she’d shown him. And as her best friend, business partner and gay man about town, he would know if it was worthy of a whistle or two.
A quick glance at the clock told her she had five minutes before her mother started making noises that the bus was leaving. No time to bother with much makeup. But since it would be hot outside until the sun dipped behind the mountains about three hours from now, and Poppy had zero interest in running to the bathroom every two seconds to make sure her face hadn’t melted off, she didn’t mind. She only put on concealer to hide the circles under her eyes from the late nights at work this week, a touch of blush and a couple coats of mascara.
Satisfied she no longer looked as if she’d been living in the forest subsisting on nuts and berries for the last year, she tucked her lip balm and face powder inside a gold clutch, grabbed a pair of matching gold sandals and headed downstairs.
There was a wedding to call off and no time to waste.
* * *
BECK LEFEBVRE STOOD at the edge of Jamie’s lawn, which was covered in a blanket of pink flower petals, and frowned. He did not want to be at this wedding barbecue welcome or whatever Jamie called it. There were things to do at the office. Important things, like the delicate deal he was in the midst of finalizing, and now had to manage by phone and email. The Lefebvre Group owned five hotels and would be adding their sixth next month under Beck’s guidance. Not that his mother had cared when he’d explained it to her.
Instead of realizing Beck couldn’t just up and leave Seattle to come to Naramata for a week of wedding celebration for his cousin Jamie, she’d told him as best man he was expected to be in attendance and had laid down one hell of a guilt trip.
As if he needed another reason to avoid family entanglements.
Besides the flowers scattered across the yard, bunches of some filmy white material lay draped over everything that was stationary, including the rows of grapes surrounding the back lawn. A small wooden floor covered the pool and a band in the corner played a mixture of seventies rock and classical music. They wore matching tuxes and had a sash strung over the drum kit proclaiming congratulations to the happy couple. The whole thing was sickeningly sweet. Like Barbie’s Dream Wedding, which Emmy would probably consider a compliment.
Though scarcely past six, the party was in full swing. Jamie told him things started early here, where people farmed for a living and rose with the sun. Beck recognized no one, but that didn’t come as much of a surprise, considering he hadn’t been back for more than ten years.
He was working on finishing his first Laphroaig when his mother hunted him down. He should have seen her coming or heard the sound of her heels, but he’d been entertaining himself by calculating how many parquet squares were on the dance floor and wondering how long he had to stay before he could leave Jamie’s winery located on the bluff and return to the family compound by the lake.
“Beck, darling. What are you doing over here?” Victoria Antonia Lefebvre Jackman Hastings smiled at her only child and reached up to lay a hand on his arm.
“Having a drink.” Beck showed off his scotch, which offered the bonus effect of knocking her hand loose.
Hurt flashed in her blue eyes, but her voice remained friendly. “I meant, why are you standing over here like a lump instead of mingling?”
“It’s not my party.” Beck refused to feel bad. Just because she wanted to pretend they were one big happy family didn’t mean he had to play along.
“You’re the best man.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” He turned from her, pretending interest in the scene before them. He spotted Jamie in a white suit, the counterpoint to his own charcoal one, just as Jamie was blond and kind and all things sugar and light, while he was dark and not so kind—all the better not to get run over in business. Beck doubted anyone ever referred to him as sweet.
“A wedding is a big moment in a person’s life. Jamie needs you.”
“Jamie is doing just fine.” Shouldn’t it be enough that he’d shown up a week before the main event?
“Beck.”
“He’s fine.” Beck double-checked to make sure. Jamie stood with his arm around Emmy, who wore a light pink dress and shoes with matching pink polka dots. He knew because she’d pointed them out to him at the start of the night. “He doesn’t need me.”
Victoria tilted her head to meet his eyes. Beck stared back.
“All right.” She sighed, her perfect blond bob swinging. “I’ve arranged for us to have brunch on Sunday with Emmy and her family. You’re expected at eleven.”
“Joyous.” Beck couldn’t wait to spend even more time with his twice-divorced parents, aunt, cousin and his soon-to-be in-laws.
“It’s Jamie’s wedding, Beck. You have duties.”
“Yes, and I’ve already planned the bachelor party.” A tame one, with no strippers, as requested by the groom. This Wednesday, there’d be golfing followed by dinner and drinks. As far as Beck was concerned, the only other thing he had to do was show up to the wedding on time and in his tux.
“Well, consider this brunch another duty. This is our way of welcoming Emmy into our family. Grace will be there.”
Beck kept his face bland. Grace was Emmy’s younger sister, and for some reason his mother had decided they’d make a good match. As if he needed a blonder, sillier version of his cousin’s fiancée in his life. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate your company.”
The hopeful light in Victoria’s eyes dimmed. “Beck.” She laid a hand on his arm again. “I expect you to arrive on time and be polite.”
This time he waited before shrugging it off, then swallowed some of the melted ice from
