Flitting around the room were my attendants. Shelby, Brayden’s sister; Ava, Aiden’s daughter; and Heather, Richard’s younger daughter, were checking on gowns, chatting, helping one another with their hair. We didn’t want stylists or makeup artists with us today. It was all about family, so we were spending the hours before my wedding together. The only one missing was Grace, Richard’s eldest daughter and my best friend.
I frowned at my sister. “Chloe, where is Gracie? She should be here by now.”
Chloe shrugged, glancing over her shoulder. “Hey, Hedda,” she called, using an old nickname, “Where is your sister?”
Heather picked up her phone. “She’s en route.”
Katy VanRyan, her mom, frowned. “She’s cutting it close. That’s not like Gracie.”
Heather poured some more champagne. “I think this case has her distracted. Something has.”
She stood and came over to the small area we had called the salon. She bent to pour some more champagne in my glass, keeping her voice low. “Her text says she’s bringing a plus-one and she hopes that’s okay.” She snorted delicately. “She says you don’t have to feed him. Stick a chair outside for him, I think was her quote.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Him? Gracie is bringing a date?” I whispered. Gracie never had time to date. She was too busy with her career.
Heather looked perturbed. “She hasn’t said anything to me until now. I’m as shocked as you.”
“We’ll have to grill her,” Chloe muttered.
I laughed. “That’ll produce nothing. You know how intensely private she is. We’ll have to sic Nan on her.”
If anyone could get Gracie to talk, it would be Sandy.
Cami stood, cinching the belt on her robe. Her dark hair was swept into an elegant chignon, and her face was youthful, the small lines around her eyes only evident when she smiled. She clapped her hands. “Girls, you need to get dressed.” She met my eyes. “And we need to get you into your gown.”
I looked at the elegant, gossamer dress hanging in the window, designed and made by Cami. She had done the girls’ dresses as well. The bodice of my dress was tight-fitting, heavily beaded with shimmering pearls and crystals. Strapless, it clung to me like a second skin. The bottom was layers of ivory tulle that burst forth from my waist like a cloud of air. Delicate flowers were embroidered on the skirt. Brayden was going to love it. I could already picture his smile as I walked toward him. The way he would bend low and whisper how beautiful I was. The way his eyes would glow. How his voice would deepen as he told me he looked forward to getting me out of my dress later.
I felt my cheeks flush simply at the thought.
Hanging beside my dress was a thick, knitted ivory sweater with matching mitts and a pair of ivory, faux fur-lined ankle boots. A matching sweater hung in Brayden’s closet.
Because ours was not a traditional wedding. No church, no long ceremony or wait time between the wedding and reception. No gifts—we’d asked our guests to donate to a local animal shelter instead.
We were getting married downstairs in a room filled with garlands, trees, lights, music, and flowers. Surrounded by our family and closest friends. Then, thanks to the staff and the muscle of all the boys, Brayden and I would don our heavy sweaters and boots and would have our pictures taken outside surrounded by the woods and snow. They had cleared a couple of areas so the pictures would be lovely.
Brayden and I loved everything about this place and this season. Skiing, skating, walking in the snow. Snowball fights and cold noses. We wanted the winter backdrop, and it was the winery’s manager who suggested the two areas for pictures of the two of us. The rest, including family pictures, would be inside, although my mother insisted she wanted a couple done outdoors.
My father had looked askance at the idea, reminding her of how easily she got cold. In reply, she shook her head, laughing. “Relax, Rigid. I often sit by the fire pit in the winter. And we go for walks.”
“Not in a dress,” he argued.
“It’s for a couple of pictures. I think they’ll be charming.” She leaned close to him, brushing her lips on his cheek. “If I get cold, you can warm me up.”
He turned his head, kissing her hard. “I will.” He looked at me. “You get a few pictures fast, and then she goes back inside.”
“Done.” I chuckled over their exchange. I was used to their displays of affection and my father’s overprotectiveness with her.
Chloe interrupted my musings, setting down a box beside me. “Jen brought the flowers. Here’s your headpiece.”
“Where is he?” I asked, anxious to see him. The eccentric wedding planner would make sure everything was in place for me.
“Downstairs, checking on everything. He’s in his element down there.” She grinned. “Dressed to the nines as usual, bossing them all around. He says he will be up shortly.”