Glory Road Page 15

  A more graceful woman would have stepped gently down with no problem, but my landing was more of a sprawl than a gentle dismount. As soon as my knees hit the ground, a car pulled up to the front of the house. I turned my head just as the black Land Rover stopped and Sumner climbed out.

  “Hey, what—are you okay?” he called as he approached. Embarrassment swam through me, pooling in my fingertips and cheeks. I picked myself up off the dirt and gravel, glad that at least I hadn’t cracked my phone.

  “So sorry.” I blew a lock of hair out of my face. “I wasn’t breaking in. I knocked but . . .” I trailed off when several pieces of gravel fell from my knees to the ground. I brushed dirt off my skirt and loosened a few more pieces of gravel from my sandal. When I straightened up, he was smiling, but his eyes still held a measure of surprise.

  “Are you okay?” He held out a hand as if to steady me.

  “Oh, I’m fine. I just stepped wrong off the . . . bucket.” As if my stupidity could be blamed on a chunk of blue plastic.

  “Did you . . . Do you—can I help you with something?”

  I rubbed my forehead. “I’m guessing Olivia didn’t talk to you.”

  He shook his head. Worry lines etched his face. Behind him, his car was still running and he was dressed as if he’d just left a business meeting.

  “She called this morning and asked if I could drive over after work. I’m supposed to call her so we can talk about where flower arrangements will go. She was . . . she was supposed to let you know I was coming.”

  He ran a hand over his face, and the flood of embarrassment in my cheeks kicked into overdrive. “But you’re obviously just getting home from work and I’m . . . I’ll call her and tell her we’ll do it another day.” I started toward my car, but he stopped me.

  “Wait, wait. You drove all the way out here, let’s at least make sure you get what you need. Hang on a second and I’ll open up.”

  I followed him back to the front and waited by the porch steps. He unloaded a small suitcase from the back of his car and led me to the door. “Are you just getting back in town?” Olivia hadn’t seemed scatterbrained on the phone, but asking me to come by when her dad was out of town led me to believe otherwise.

  He nodded as he picked through keys on the key ring. “It was last minute. Olivia didn’t even know I was going. You came at the right time though. I’d have felt terrible if you’d driven out here yesterday when I was gone. Although by the looks of it, you may have figured out how to get in anyway.” He smiled, but his eyes were weary.

  “I’m sorry about that. She said the gate would be open. I thought maybe there was a trick to unlatching it.”

  “No, it’s locked. My front lawn and the dock below have become somewhat of a hot spot for photographers around here.” He pushed the door open with a creak. “There we go.”

  Cool air hit me with a rush, along with scents of polished hardwoods and well-appointed age. Dark wood beams crossed the span of whitewashed ceiling in the main room, outfitted with a pair of cream-colored couches dotted with tasteful silk pillows. Antiques were scattered throughout the space, from tables and lamps to a pair of copper seahorse bookends on the mantel. A freestanding fireplace separated the living room from a dining room beyond it.

  Panels of rich wood gleamed under the last rays of sun pouring through the front wall of windows. Outside, the oak’s limbs filled nearly every windowpane. As he tossed his keys on a table and grabbed a stack of mail, I stepped forward and ran a finger across an antique desk in the corner.

  “Your home is beautiful.” It was obviously aged, but in a pleasant, rambling, well-kept way. The space was immaculate, without a stray magazine, drinking glass, or shoe anywhere.

  He slit open an envelope with his thumb. “Oh, thanks. I can’t really take credit though. My decorator did a lot of it, especially in here. This isn’t really my style, but she says it’s right for the house and appropriate for someone like me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I have no idea. Someone who doesn’t like comfortable couches?”

  I laughed. “Well, it’s lovely, even if the couches aren’t comfortable. It looks like a study or a library in one of those old houses in Garden & Gun.”

  “I’ll tell Cheryl you said that. It’s the exact image she was going for.” He turned toward the other side of the house. “My favorite part’s through here.”

  As I followed him through the kitchen that opened into a small den in the corner of the house, his phone rang. He checked the screen, then apologized. “I have to take this, but it’ll be quick. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Half listening to his one-sided conversation, I gazed around the cozy space. A soft-as-butter leather couch and a cushy love seat upholstered in ticking stripes were scattered with down pillows in shades of blue and green. A wooden coffee table between them bore scratches and dings from years of foot-propping. There were books and magazines, a small ottoman covered in a red-and-orange kilim print, and a delicious cream blanket tossed across the back of the couch. It was comfortable, informal, and made me want to take off my shoes. Which was exactly what Sumner did when he walked back into the room and set his phone onto the kitchen counter.

  “This is my space. I told Cheryl she could have the rest of the house as long as she didn’t come within ten feet of this room. I can leave my drinks out and books on the table and she can’t say anything about it.” He loosened his tie and slid it off. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Just some water, thanks. I should probably go ahead and call Olivia. She sounded nervous on the phone this morning. I think she’s just now realized how short three months is. Or less than that now.”

  “I don’t know how she’s going to do it. She’s refusing to hire a planner, and her job keeps her really busy. I told her I’d help out as much as I could, but I have no idea how to plan a wedding. When I got married, all I had to do was show up on time. This morning she was asking me about picking out fine china, and I had to give her Cheryl’s number. Wedgwood, Limoges, Haviland . . . I know nothing.”

  “Does she want bone or porcelain?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “No idea. I could ask.”

  “Porcelain is generally less expensive, so she might get more of it as gifts, but bone china is more durable. Won’t crack as easily.”

  “You’re an expert on fine china? I’m surprised.”

  “And why is that? Because I live on a dirt road?”

  “No, I . . . You just seem a little more, I don’t know, casual. I don’t mean any offense.”

  “I’m teasing. Any fine china I still have is packed up in a box somewhere in my attic or my mother’s. It’s not my first choice for dining these days, that’s for sure.” I thought of the delicate band of gold that edged the cream dinner plates, the thin handles of our sterling silver serving spoons, the finely etched crystal wine and water glasses. All registered for with the utmost care and attention by me and my onetime mother-in-law. When our wedding gifts started rolling in, I couldn’t believe the money perfect strangers paid for me to eat off such beautiful things. It was a stark contrast to the white Corelle dinner plates and mason jar glasses I’d grown up with.

  My phone rang deep in my bag, and I was thankful for the interruption. I rummaged through blindly until my hand closed around it. I checked the screen. “Hi, Olivia. I was just about to call you. I’m inside and ready to talk.”

  “Perfect. I realized earlier I’d forgotten to call my dad and tell him you were coming. He was there to let you in okay?”

  “Oh yes.” I turned away from Sumner, as if he could hear Olivia’s words. “Everything went just fine.”

  “Great. I thought we could start on the porch, then make our way down to the water. That’s where the ceremony will be. The reception will be back up on the lawn. Under the tree, which I’m sure you’ve seen by now.”

  “I have. It’s amazing.”

  “It is, isn’t it? No one even knows how old it
is, just that it’s old old. Something about the way the house is situated in the bend in the river has protected it. Otherwise it could have been damaged by hurricanes over the years.”

  “I can’t believe you could even consider getting married anywhere else when you have this in your backyard.”

  Behind me, Sumner laughed, low and amused.

  “If you knew how many times the tree has been photographed, you’d understand.”

  I had my doubts about that. This tree could have been in every photograph ever taken and I’d still jump at the chance to get married under it. If, that is, there was a chance of me ever getting married again.

  “I even saw it up here in the city not too long ago,” she continued. “In a magazine ad for air freshener. It’s made it big-time if Glade has caught on.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “Now, I know I sent you my Pinterest page, but I was at a wedding last weekend on Long Island and it made me rethink some things . . .”

  Listening to Olivia, I walked toward the back door. Sumner crossed in front of me and unlocked it, then held it open for me. As she dove into a detailed rundown of the flowers she’d seen at her friend’s wedding, I took in the screened porch. It was obviously geared toward comfort, a bold change from the more sophisticated main living area of the house. Dark hardwood floors were covered in cozy, well-worn rugs. Instead of antique sideboards and sleek tabletops, the furniture was all wood and wicker, white canvas and sailcloth—everything made to withstand the humidity and heat. At the end of the porch was a hanging bed swing, complete with a fitted sheet and a striped quilt folded at the end. Ample pillows were propped up against the chains.

  Olivia was talking about arrangements she wanted by the double-screened doors leading out into the yard. When she mentioned orchids, I stopped her.

  “Orchids? You want to use them out here?”

  “They’re so delicate and pretty. Maybe in a small arrangement? I thought about having something on the wall on either side of the screen doors.”

  “That’d be lovely, but I’m not sure orchids would go with the natural look you’ve said you wanted. And your dad’s porch is all white and wood—I can see using twig branches to loosen up some arrangements, maybe some magnolia leaves from the tree out front. Orchids could make things seem a little stark. Even though they are pretty.”

  “I like that idea. And you’re the expert, so let’s go with that. Now, about the food . . .”

  As she switched gears to cakes and food and I moved from the porch to the lawn—which was even lovelier on this side of the locked gate—I realized that though Olivia had a lot of ideas, she needed someone to help her pull it all together in a cohesive way. Otherwise, it had the potential to turn into a hodgepodge of details rather than the elegant sunset wedding it could be.

  “Olivia.” I interrupted her one-sided conversation about a sushi-rolling station versus a meat-carving station. “I can tell you sushi at an outside wedding in September sounds like a trip to the ER, but you’re going to need someone else to help you figure out the food.” I felt competent to give her some advice, but I didn’t want the success or flop of her wedding reception to fall on my shoulders.

  “Right, right. I promise I won’t overload you with extras. And I did take your advice and hired someone to help on the day of the wedding.”

  I exhaled a sigh. “Good for you. That’ll help a lot.”

  She moved the discussion to the dance floor to be set up under the tree to protect the grass. Highboy tables would dot the edge of the dance floor so guests would have somewhere to set their drink while they kicked up their heels. She wanted arrangements on each of those tables, along with centerpieces on each of the food tables and the smaller tables where guests would sit and eat. Dollar signs flew through my mind. She hadn’t given me a firm budget, which was good because I had a feeling she’d blow right past it.

  After I’d walked through the lawn and given her an idea of how many arrangements she’d need, she said she had just a few minutes left to talk about the dock where the ceremony would take place.

  “Let’s head out there then.” A short wrought iron gate enclosed the yard at the back, and from where I stood, it appeared to be locked. Not wanting to be embarrassed again, I looked behind me to where Sumner sat on the back porch steps, his collar open to catch what little breeze floated by. When I pointed to the gate, he stood and crossed the lawn, then unlocked the gate with a click.

  “I’ll head out with you,” he whispered.

  The boathouse at the end of the dock was rambling, with sections appearing to have been added over time. There were no walls, only thick posts and railings, but a massive fireplace stood in one corner, surrounded by comfortable chairs and a low coffee table. Lounge chairs were perched at the edge of the dock facing the river, with a metal ladder that disappeared into the water.

  Down a few steps was another portion of the dock, but this part was older, basic, and no frills. Just two Adirondack chairs at the end and a pair of rubber water shoes. It was a calm evening, but the water made music, lapping against pilings, wood slats, and a canoe tied to one of the railings.

  I could see why Olivia wanted the ceremony out here by the water. As we spoke, the sun was already sliding down toward the horizon. Passing clouds lit up like electric-blue-and-purple slashes across the sky. In minutes everything would be a blaze of orange and pink, an incredible backdrop to a wedding.

  “Olivia, I’m not sure you need many flowers down here. Or decorations at all. The sky is going to be your biggest attraction. Next to you, of course.” I walked to the edge. Next to me, Sumner dropped down into one of the Adirondack chairs, propping a leg up on the arm of the other one.

  “I agree that we don’t need much, but maybe something near where we’ll be standing?”

  I climbed back up the steps and focused on the rafter beams crisscrossing the ceiling. I imagined a big, rustic chandelier hanging from the beams, laced through with greenery and simple blossoms. “I think I can come up with something.”

  “Perfect. Oh, I almost forgot. Can you put my dad on? I need to ask him something.”

  “Sure.” I glanced back to where Sumner still sat, comfortable in the Adirondack, one foot lazily bouncing up and down. I handed him the phone, then took a few steps back and sat on a bench. I didn’t know him or her well enough to listen in on their conversation.

  I did watch him though. The minute he said hi, his face grew animated and light. Even when he’d been sitting alone in the chair, the sun fading before him and his eyes half-closed, he’d had a deep crease between his eyebrows and a firm set to his mouth. But speaking to Olivia, his face lost all traces of concern. His genuine smile and laughter told me all I needed to know about their relationship.

  Since we’d been on the dock, the sun had disappeared below the water and the sky gradually darkened by slow degrees. What had been a bright, almost neon color palette was now awash in cool pastels.

  Sumner handed me the phone back a minute later, then held his hand out to help me up. I hesitated a fraction of a second, then took his hand and stood.

  “Despite the fact that I’m just the father of the bride, I’d like to do more than just sign the checks. I know you have your daughter and your mother to help, but I’m available if you need me.”

  “Thanks. I’ll probably need all the help I can get.”

  We walked back up the dock toward the house. Small lights posted at regular intervals along the dock had clicked on since we’d been outside.

  “Can you turn these lights off?” I asked.

  “Sure. They’re on a timer, but I could override it. Why?”

  “Just thinking. Candles along the dock leading to the ceremony would be pretty.”

  “Sounds like you’re really getting into this.”

  I shrugged. “Planning a wedding for someone else is kind of fun.”

  “Not as much fun to plan your own?”

  “It’s a lot more pressur
e when it’s your own. Plus, I won’t be the one who has to worry about not tripping or doing something else embarrassing in front of everyone I know.”

  All around us, nighttime sounds began in earnest—a steady thrum of crickets, shrill vibrations of cicadas, and somewhere close, a throaty tree frog croaking an evening lullaby. Ahead of us, Sumner’s house was glowing from the few lamps he’d turned on before we walked out. The windows were warm and inviting, the huge oak lit from below with tiny spotlights. It made my breath catch in my throat. A light breeze from the water fluttered the leaves around us. Goose bumps crept up my arms.

  “This is the best time of day, if you ask me,” Sumner said. I moved to let him step around me and through the gate into the yard. “It’s so peaceful—just nature and the breeze.”

  Back in the house, I picked up my bag in the kitchen. “Thanks for letting me interrupt your night like this. Especially when you weren’t expecting it.”

  “It’s nothing. I enjoyed it. It’s all a little surreal to me, but bottom line, I’m thrilled my baby wants to get married here. And I really appreciate you helping to make it special for her. It means a lot to her. And me.”

  I smiled. “Weddings should be special. It’s the beginning of a new life. Hopefully a good one.”

  I followed him to the front door, but he paused with his hand on the doorknob. I waited for him to open it and whisk me out into the night so he could get back to his evening, but he didn’t.

  “I hope this doesn’t sound presumptuous since we’ve just met,” he said after a moment, “but I’m going to run up the road and grab a quick bite to eat. Any chance you’d like to eat with me?”

  “Right now?” I glanced down and noticed dirt under my right thumbnail that had somehow escaped my attention earlier. “Oh, I’m not dressed—”

  “You look fine. And I know the perfect place. Honey’s is about as casual as it gets. I usually stop there when I get back in town late and have nothing to eat in the house.”