A Wedding in Provence (24 page)

“That’s what I did yesterday, Wes,” she said. “I played hooky.”

“What’s going on, Carly?”

“I’m quitting.”

“Quitting what?”

Carly turned around. She saw a trail of bloodstained footprints on the tile around the pool. She followed her own footprints in reverse.

“Work. You. I’m done.”

“You want to call me later?” Wes asked. “I must be having a bad dream. Let’s talk when I’ve had some coffee.”

“No,” Carly said. “I want to do it now.”

“Do what now?”

“Doug Barnes can replace me temporarily. He’s good enough. Until you hire someone else.”

“You have a replacement set up for my girlfriend, too?”

“You’re on your own for that one,” Carly said.

“Someone hired you. Unique made you an offer. Castaway. Who’s hiring you?”

“No one’s hiring me.”

“You’re starting your own company. Why am I not surprised?” Wes sounded disgusted.

“You’re wrong,” Carly said. “I’m just getting out. I need a break.”

“So take a break. It’s called a sabbatical. We can take a relationship sabbatical, too, if you want one. What the hell happened over there?”

“I gotta go, Wes. Sorry to dump this all on you. But I had to. I’ll talk to you when I’m back in town. I’ve got to go. My mother’s wedding and all.”

“Fuck you, Carly.”

She hung up the phone, then stopped pacing and looked
around. The sunlight glimmered on the pool, on the wet tiles, on the rain-soaked umbrellas. Carly lifted her sunglasses and watched the world brighten.

“I’d like to make a toast!” Emily called, clinking a fork against her champagne glass.

Carly walked quickly to the center of the garden to join the group. Her heel had stopped bleeding but now her feet were covered with mud, and when she looked at her legs, she also saw scratches across her shins.

She grabbed a glass of champagne from the table and passed the phone back to her sister, then stood at her side.

“What the hell?” Nell said, looking at Carly’s legs.

“Shhh,” everyone said at once.

“My best friend just got hitched,” Emily said. She walked to Olivia’s side and threw one arm around her. “And I couldn’t be happier.”

Olivia leaned over and kissed Emily’s cheek.

“But listen up,” Emily began. “Right now you’re in heaven. Right now you guys are thinking this marriage thing is as easy as breathing.”

“Don’t,” Olivia said, stepping away from Emily.

“Trust me on this one,” Emily whispered.

Olivia looked at her doubtfully. Sébastien took a step closer to his wife but he, too, looked wary. Why? Carly wondered.

“Marriage is complicated,” Emily said. “Marriage is messy.” She glanced at Sébastien. “Sometimes very messy.” She turned back to Olivia and Brody. “But love—love gets you through the tough parts. It makes you a better human being. Love helps lift us above our own frailties and enables us to soar.” She lifted
her glass to the bride and groom. “Here’s to the remarkable gift of love. And now let’s feast.”

The three of them shared clinks and kisses but Sébastien held back.

While everyone else made their way around the house toward the arbor, Carly watched Sébastien approach Emily.

“Je t’aime,”
he said, taking her hands in his. “I love our marriage. I will do everything I can so that you can trust me again.”

Emily glanced at Carly. “You didn’t hear that.”

“I didn’t hear a thing,” Carly said.

“Go eat,” Emily said. “That’s an order.”

“Oui, madame.”

As Carly walked around the house toward the noise of all the other guests, she glanced behind her. Emily and Sébastien were kissing.

He cheated on her? Carly thought. Impossible. Was the myth of Emily really a myth? During all the years of Carly’s parents’ bad marriage, Carly had counted on Emily and Sébastien as the ones who did it right. Maybe no one did it right. Or maybe even a perfect life has broken moments.

The arbor was draped with white lights, woven through the wisteria. Emily had set a beautiful table, with flowers floating in glass bowls, a panel of antique lace running down the center. How had Carly paced the perimeter of the pool so many times while talking to Wes and failed to notice the table? I’m sleepwalking, Carly thought. I used to be the one who took it all in at a glance. Now I can’t see a step in front of me.

Everyone gathered around, murmuring compliments about
the lovely table. Carly watched Nell straighten Brody’s tie. She’s the good sister, Carly thought. She loved the guy the minute Olivia introduced him to them. I’ve been bitching about the cowboy without ever talking to him. It turns out I’m the fuck-up, the loser.

Paolo walked out of the back door of the inn and called to all of them. “It is dinner now!”

He wore a white chef’s jacket over his jeans. Without his ponytail, his hair fell in waves onto his shoulders. His piercing blue eyes sought her out, and he smiled. She thought of his hand on hers, moving the whisk through the egg whites.

“Dinner!” Olivia called.

“Bring on the wedding feast!” Brody proclaimed.

Carly considered following Paolo into the kitchen. But everyone moved toward the table, so she took a seat next to Nell. Fanny sat on her other side.

“I’d like to say something, too,” Brody said. He walked up to Olivia and slipped an arm around her waist.

He raised his glass. “I’m not a guy who likes to give a speech,” he said, clearing his throat. “In Wyoming I had my big country and my simple life. My first wife, Grace, and I didn’t have kids. So we had horses and dogs. Not a bad thing. But I went to work and when I came home I worked the ranch, keeping myself busy. I thought I was happy—I suppose I was happy. But I’ve come to learn a different kind of happiness. When I met Olivia my life went from black and white to Technicolor. I now have two daughters whom I already love. And I have a wife who lives life on a grand stage.”

Everyone laughed; Olivia elbowed Brody.

“My heart had to grow to make room for this very big life.
I never knew love could take up so much space. And this is exactly the way I want it to be. Olivia, my bride. Thank you for marrying me.”

When they kissed, Carly could feel her eyes fill with tears.

Sometime in the middle of dinner, Carly sneaked away from the table. She walked into the kitchen and found Paolo at the sink, washing dishes. He didn’t see her standing there. She watched him for a moment. His face was serious, his brow creased with concentration. I don’t know what he’s thinking, she thought. I don’t even know if he’s smart. I don’t know a thing about him.

“I can help,” she said.

He turned around.

“You are here,” he said, his eyes widening. “I think about you, and then you are here.”

“Magic,” she said.

“You are hurt,” he said, looking at her feet.

She shook her head. One foot was still smeared with blood. “It’s a mess,” she told him, “but I’ll survive. I stepped on something.”

He walked up to her, drying his hands on the towel tucked into the waist of his apron.

“Here,” he said, pointing to a stool.

She sat at the center island.

He kneeled down and lifted her foot. His hand was warm on her skin and yet she felt a shiver run through her body. He examined her foot, pressing softly on her skin. She closed her eyes, letting his touch quiet the thoughts in her mind. And then he let her go. She opened her eyes.

He returned to the sink and ran water over a fresh hand towel. Then he sat on the floor with her foot in his lap. His touch was gentle, soothing. He washed the top of her foot and then carefully moved the towel over her sole. At one point she flinched with pain.

“Scusi,”
he said. “I clean it.”

She nodded, watching him.

He cleaned the cut and then dried it with a fresh towel. He found ointment to put on it and then taped a bandage over it. When he was done, he brought her foot to his mouth and kissed her instep.

She reached out and touched his head.

He sat back and looked at her, and she smiled.

“Sì,”
she whispered, and he leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers. As they kissed, she heard a humming sound inside her head, a sound that she had never heard before. It poured through her as if it were liquid and soon she felt as if she were floating in it.

Together, they stood up, and she leaned into him and they kept kissing, and all the words in her brain disappeared.

“Excuse me,” Carly heard and she stepped back, surprised.

She looked toward the door where Brody stood, smiling.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean—”

“We just—” Carly said. “I don’t know how I got this cut.” She lifted her foot and held it in the air. Ridiculous, she thought. She put it down and stood there. She could still hear the soft humming sound inside her.

“I cook,” Paolo said, moving toward the back of the kitchen.

“I was coming to get more wine.”

“My foot—I stepped on something—”

“Please, Carly,” Brody said. “I don’t care. I’m not going to deck anyone. I thought that Jake had—I don’t know—you’re a beautiful young woman and I thought he was taking advantage—”

“I can take care of myself,” she said.

“I was mad at Jake,” Brody said. “He’s an old guy who shouldn’t be—”

“He didn’t do anything.”

“I know that now. I’m sorry.”

They stood there, looking at each other. Somewhere behind them Paolo was chopping something, the sound of the knife clicking rapidly.

“I don’t need a new father,” Carly said, lifting her chin.

“So I’m just your mom’s husband,” Brody said, an easy smile on his face. “We start there.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“We’ve got plenty of time for that,” Brody said. “The rest of our lives.”

Carly nodded. “You guys look really happy. My dad wasn’t very good at making Mom happy.”

Brody didn’t say anything for a moment. “She makes me very happy, too,” he finally said.

“Did you hurt Jake?”

Brody shook his head. “The guy has a pretty thick skull.”

“He was in love with …” Carly said, trailing off.

Brody nodded. “With Grace. I knew that. He was kind of a puppy dog around her.”

Carly smiled. “Somehow I can’t imagine Jake as a puppy dog.”

“He puts on a good act.”

“And he’s never fallen in love with anyone else.”

“He’s scared, I think,” Brody said.

“Of what?”

“Of what happens when you open your heart.”

“Me, too,” Carly said.

Brody walked toward her. She watched him, wondering what he would say. Tell me, she thought. Tell me what to do.

But he just opened his arms and she stepped in.

O
livia stood at the edge of the patio and watched the guests dancing under the white lights that were strung from tree to tree. Carly and Nell danced together, both of them distracted, looking everywhere except at each other. Nell was the good dancer, graceful and fluid in her movements. Carly’s arms jerked awkwardly; her feet shuffled without rhythm. Lucky thing she’s so smart, Olivia thought. Then Nell pulled Carly close and whispered in her ear.

Carly nodded, then closed her eyes. She stood, her body swaying to the music. Slowly she began to dance with her eyes closed. And sure enough, she found a rhythm and began to move in time to the music. She opened her eyes and laughed out loud. Nell high-fived her. Look at that, Olivia thought, smiling.

Nearby, Brody was dancing with Fanny. He twirled his mother under his arm. They looked elegant and happy, two tall herons on the dance floor. When the dance ended, Fanny curtsied, and Brody kissed her hand.

A new song began; Sébastien and Emily stepped onto the patio. It was a slow dance, and Sébastien put his arms around his wife. She rested her cheek in the crook of his neck and they swayed together, their bodies close.

Please get through this, Olivia thought.

Suddenly Fanny was at her side, laughing. “What a wonderful party,” she said. They watched Brody ask Carly to dance. She hesitated—Olivia knew that her daughters weren’t very good at ballroom dancing. Even
she
was lousy at following a man’s lead—maybe it was a genetic trait.

But Carly apparently agreed because Brody took one of her hands in his and placed the other on the small of her back. He whispered in her ear.

“I think he’s teaching her how to dance,” Olivia said.

“She doesn’t know how?” Fanny asked.

“Their generation doesn’t slow dance, I think. In fact, all I ever learned was the bear hug.”

“Well, you’ll learn now,” Fanny said.

They watched as Brody and Carly moved tentatively across the dance floor.

“Apparently he’s a good teacher,” Olivia said.

“I changed my flight,” Fanny said, turning to face her. “I already told Brody. I’ve got a taxi picking me up in a half hour.”

“Why?”

“I want to get back to my husband,” Fanny said. “I think it’s time.”

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that.”

Fanny sighed deeply. “I know my Sam. He spent his whole life taking care of the rest of the world. He was a wonderful doctor.”

“I’m sure he was.”

“And he can’t imagine that someone might take care of him.”

Olivia nodded. “I’ve heard that doctors make the worst patients.”

“This is what it means to love someone,” Fanny said. “After so many years. It’s what you do in the end.”

“I wish he could have been here.”

“At least I’ll be going home to him.”

Olivia smiled. “The thought of that makes me very happy.”

“First, though, I’m going to give him hell,” Fanny said, a corner of her mouth lifting in a grin. “And then I’ll put on my Florence Nightingale cap and do what I have to do.”

“It will be hard,” Olivia said.

“But we’ll be together,” Fanny told her.

Olivia leaned over and gave her a kiss. “I’m so glad you were here, Fanny.”

“Me, too.”

“Don’t be mad at me for taking Brody away from you and Wyoming.”

“You are the best thing that ever happened to that boy,” Fanny said, and then she squeezed Olivia’s shoulder before starting to walk back to the inn.