Enright Family Collection (94 page)

Having once, many moons ago, taught him Latin, she leaned over to Tucker and lowering her voice, said, “Fortes fortuna juvat.”

He laughed, then translated, “Fortune favors the brave.”

“A more contemporary reading might be ‘go for it.’” August smiled.

“Now, Miss D. . . .” It was Tucker’s turn to redden, and he did, clear down below the neck of his cotton T-shirt.

August laughed again, then lowered her voice and touched his arm. “You won’t forget, now, Tuck. No one gets on that boat without an invitation.”

“Don’t worry, Miss D.” Tucker gave her arm an affectionate squeeze. “No one will.”

The wedding party oohed and ah’ed over the transformation of the downstairs rooms of the lighthouse from the once rustic home of India’s ancestors to a perfectly beautiful spot for a wedding reception. Long buffet tables wearing white linen cloths and swagged with palest pink tulle draped with long arms of ivy ran along the two inside walls of the largest of the two downstairs rooms. Large white pottery crocks brimming with white
peonies, roses, stock, and lilies served as centerpieces and perfumed the air with the scents of early summer. Round tables with chairs for eight, with smaller but similar centerpieces, were scattered throughout the downstairs rooms and out onto a deck that overlooked the bay. The windows, draped with filmy white gauze held back with bunches of fresh flowers tied with pink and white ribbons, were opened to allow the gentle sea breezes in. Outside, several newly constructed decks and patios had room for dining and dancing.

In the two corresponding rooms upstairs, freestanding mirrors and several small loveseats had been arranged for the bride and her attendants. The newly installed bathroom held a series of double sinks, allowing everyone room to apply their makeup and fuss with their hair without elbowing each other in the face.

“This is some lighthouse,” Georgia said as she admired the newly finished rooms.

“I was beginning to fear that the renovations would not be completed in time,” India told her, “and we really only just made it by a few days.”

“What are you going to use it for after the wedding?”

“Darla is going to have a little restaurant here, as well as a home for her catering business. We’re thinking of maybe even renting out for other weddings.”

“How will people get back and forth?”

“Pete will run a shuttle.” India set her makeup case on one of the loveseats. “Darla’s even thinking maybe she’ll do luncheons during the bird migrations next spring. It would offer a comfortable place to observe the birds without getting in their way. Oh, Darla, there you are. We were just talking about the plans for the lighthouse.”

Darla hugged her friend and said, “The only plans I have right now are to get through this day without a snag. I hope Jason gets here in time to get the grills started for the fish. And I hope that that new generator doesn’t pop and blow out the refrigerators. And . . .”

“Enough!” India laughed. “I forbid any more talk of what could go wrong. Come into the bathroom and fix
my hair and stop worrying. Everything is going to be just perfect, Dar.”

And it was just perfect, from the simple ceremony on the dock overlooking the calm inlet to the music and the incredible buffet. India and Nick’s wedding could not have been more perfect than it was.

“You really are the most beautiful bride.” Delia had sniffed back the tears as she fussed with India’s veil of gossamer tulle held in the front by combs covered with fresh flowers.

“Thank you, Delia.” India kissed her on the cheek. “And you are the most elegant mother of the groom I’ve ever seen, in that pale champagne-colored silk dress.”

“I didn’t want to clash with the decor.” Delia sniffed and her daughters all laughed.

“Mother, you’re the only person I know who would take orchid petals with her to shop for a dress,” Zoey said.

“I wanted the photographs to be balanced,” Delia defended herself archly, then laughed good-naturedly. “Your dresses are such a pale shade of gold, and August is wearing a deeper color. I thought my dress should complement the overall color scheme.”

“And you do, exquisitely.” August squeezed her arm. “Ahh, are those violins I hear?”

Laura looked out the window. “Yes. There’s a string quartet, just warming up.”

“Oh, good, they made it.” India peeked out the window and grinned.

“I guess violins make an easier crossing than an organ,” Zoey commented. “Or a five-piece band.”

“Oh, we’ll have a regular band later, but we had to have violins for the ceremony.” India smoothed her gown of creamy white satin. “Did you know that on the night Nick proposed to me, he had arranged for a string quartet to serenade us?”

“Oh, how romantic.” Laura said. “No wonder you said yes.”

“I would have said yes anyway.” India began to puddle
up. “How could I not have loved him? He’s sweet, loving”—she sniffed slightly—“kind, thoughtful . . .”

“Who is she talking about?” Zoey stage-whispered from the doorway.

“I’m not sure,” Georgia pretended to frown. “But Nicky had better not hear about it.”

“I’m talking about Nick,” India told them.

“You’ll have to pardon us, but the man you’re describing doesn’t sound anything like the Nick we grew up with.” Zoey’s eyes began to gleam. “Georgey, do you remember the time that Nick—”

“Don’t you dare,” Delia warned her daughter sternly. “No ’bad-Nicky’ tales on his wedding day. Now, girls, let me take a last look at you. . . . Zoey, let me fix those flowers, they’re hanging half out of your hair. Laura, would you please straighten the back of India’s dress?”

“Is everyone ready?” August asked from the doorway. “Tucker has just brought over the last boatload of guests.”

“Then it’s time,” Darla said simply. “India?”

“Let’s do it.”

And with that, one of the most unusual weddings ever to be held in Devlin’s Light began. A blend of tradition and improvisation, the marriage of India Devlin to Nicholas Enright would be talked about for years.

When asked “Who gives this woman?” Augustina Devlin, the bride’s aunt, stepped forward and announced, “I do,” in her customary crisp fashion.

The Enright women had come properly prepared for the emotional ceremony with handkerchiefs hidden in the hands that wrapped around bouquets and tissues in Delia’s purse. There was barely a dry eye among those who stood in the sunlight and witnessed the exchange of vows between the lithe golden-haired young woman—the last of the Devlin descendants—who had so recently returned to the town in which she had been raised, and the tall, broad-shouldered man who made a place for himself in Devlin’s Light.

“Do you, India Sarah Devlin, take this man, Nicholas Burton Enright . . .” Reverend Carlton Douglas began what Zoey always thought of as the
real
ceremony, the only part that
really
mattered.

Nicky really is so handsome, he really is such a love,
Zoey thought as she watched her big brother, who stood so straight and solemn before all of their family and most of the town of Devlin’s Light as he exchanged his vows with the woman he loved.
I’m so glad he found India, she really is just right for him.

And Ben really is just right for me. We belong together just as surely as Nick and India do. If he leaves now, I think I’ll die. . . .

The fear tugged at her heart—as it had, more and more, begun to do lately—that he would, in fact, return to England, to the life he had known before he had come back.

He’s driven in Grand Prix races. He’s traveled all over the world. His life has been filled with fast cars and, I would guess, fast women. What man would trade all that
—
France, Italy, Monaco—for Chester County, Pennsylania?

Ben would.

Wouldn’t he?

The inner dialogue went, back and forth.

He belongs here, he’ll stay.

This is just a diversion for him, he’ll go back as soon as he’s able.

It was beginning to make Zoey slightly ill. She tried turning down the volume on the taunting little voice and tried to concentrate on what was going on.

She turned slightly to look for Ben in the crowd that had gathered on the dock, and found him standing just slightly in the shadow of the lighthouse, between Laura and Mrs. Colson. She caught his eye and winked, earning a broad smile from the only man who had ever turned her blood to fire and caused her palms to sweat. He looked so handsome, in his navy blue blazer and white
linen slacks, though surely no more alluring, she reasoned, than he had looked in a green and white checkered sheet earlier that morning.

He couldn’t
—
wouldn’t
—
leave her.

Zoey turned her attention back to the ceremony—“Do you, Nicholas Burton Enright, take this woman . . .”—to see her mother dab at her eyes. What a day this was for Delia. Gaining a daughter . . . Zoey glanced back to Laura . . . make that
two
daughters. Ben lifted Ally, who had been straining to see, onto his shoulders.

Make that two daughters and one—no, two granddaughters, counting Corri.

“By the power invested in me by the state of New Jersey, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Mr. Enright,” Reverend Douglas was telling Nick.

And kiss her he did, while the guests tossed birdseed and rose petals, as requested by the aunt of the bride. Cheers rang out and violins played a lively tune and, as the bride had wished, waiters appeared instantly, carrying trays of fluted glasses bubbling with champagne to lift a toast to the lighthouse, and to the spirit of the bride’s late brother.

The buffet was both sumptuous and inspired, with mounds of icy cold shrimp and delicate lobster salad, tureens holding cold strawberry soup, and large porcelain bowls of chicken salad plump with pineapple and grapes. Then came the trays of summer salads—minted rice, potato salad with lavender, green beans and mushrooms in a mustardy dressing, and a fruit salad garnished with fresh tender violets. Later, Darla’s crew grilled salmon and swordfish and shrimp wrapped in bacon, a favorite of Nick’s. The wedding cake—exactly as Corri had promised—was a three-tiered delight of rich dense chocolate covered with white buttercream frosting. From the top tier cascaded white lilacs, and around the base of each layer, buttercream roses grew. The dessert buffet was a staggering testimony to Darla’s ability, with chocolate-covered strawberries, creampuffs
with mocha filling, and every variety of fruit tart imaginable.

“What a staff you must have, Darla!” Zoey exclaimed as the waiters passed by with trays of tiny cheesecakes and miniature soufflés. “To prepare so much of so many different things.”

“Thanks, Zoey, but I’m afraid that you’re looking at most of the staff.” Darla dropped wearily into a chair.

“How could you possibly have done all this?”

“It takes a lot of organizing. And you’d be amazed at how much can be prepared ahead of time. For the last-minute assembly, it helps to have people whose skills you have confidence in. And of course I did have some help . . . just not the dozens of people everyone assumes I have.”

“Well, everything is exquisite, Darla.” Delia joined them on the deck. “I will never use another caterer for anything. We’ll simply have to bring you to Westboro for the next party.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Enright.” Darla put her hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Please forgive me. I’m starting to wind down.”

“It must be really difficult to do so much.” Georgia shook her head. “I’m just amazed at it all.”

“Actually, one of the most difficult things has been to find the quality of herbs that I like. If I could grow them myself, I’d do it.” Darla stifled another yawn. “I just don’t have the time, but I often think about it.”

“Where do you buy from now?” Georgia asked.

“I buy from several farmers, but it makes for a lot of driving around. This one grows rosemary, that one grows sage, someone else grows the best dill. It would be a great business to get into, growing top-quality fresh herbs for resturants and caterers. If I had the time, I swear I would do it.”

“Ah, there you are, Zoey.” Ben wandered through the door leading from the lighthouse onto the deck.

“Where did you disappear to?” Zoey stood and went to him.

“Corri took my grandfather and me out to the end of the jetty to show me how Devlins look for birds,” he told her. “And while we were out there, we noticed a boat circling around between the inlet and the bay side of the light. Captain Pete’s son has gone to investigate, but it looked like a fisherman.”

“So, Mother, it would seem that there was no great influx of nosy reporters after all.”

“Isn’t that a pleasant surprise.” Delia smiled.

“And while Laura’s strong family resemblance certainly is noteworthy, I haven’t heard a lot of speculative whispering,” Georgia noted.

“That’s because I told everyone in the family in advance.” Delia smiled and sipped at her wine.

“What?” Zoey and Georgia both asked.

“I said, I already told everyone. I called all of my cousins over the past two weeks and told them everything. I decided that I’d be damned if I was going to waste a minute of my only son’s wedding day worrying about how anyone would react to finding out about Laura. So I called them on the phone and I just figured anyone who had a problem with it could stay home.”

Georgia and Zoey exchanged surprised glances.

“So?” Zoey waited for her mother to elaborate.

“So, you will notice that everyone is here except for my cousin Carolyn.” Delia shrugged. “She was oh-so-shocked in an oh-so-pleased sort of way. But I don’t care. It’s been a beautiful wedding and a wonderful day—one totally
perfect
day. All the people I most love are here with me.” She stood and tilted her wineglass in the direction of the dock, where Laura stood with Ally watching the gulls circle. “The circle is complete, children, and my cup, indeed, runneth over.”

Chapter
25