MAËLLE #2
“I cannot wait to sit in my garden in May and see you marry him.” She cupped my cheek. “And that means we have a wedding to plan.”
Later, while she rested, I called her doctor’s office and booked the first appointment they had, which was on the Monday after Christmas.
When that was taken care of, I walked across the courtyard to the winery.
The office was at the far end of the building, past the tasting room. The door was propped open, and Rémy sat behind the desk.
“Tell me you’ve come to rescue me,” he said.
“From what?”
“The co-op wants the books closed before January. Every year, they ask for it earlier. Soon, they will want it in August.”
I moved a stack of catalogs off the chair across from the desk and sat down.
“I came to ask you for a favor, and I’d like you to hear all of it before you answer.”
He turned to face me. “That is never a good beginning.”
“While I’m home, I want to learn more about the business.”
“Which part of it?”
“All of it.”
He didn’t laugh, which I appreciated more than he could have known. “Of course.”
“Thank you. I know Papa made it difficult for you by putting you in charge of what is, in essence, my inheritance. I’ve never held that against you.”
“I know you haven’t.”
“Merci, Rémy.”
“De rien, cousine.”
We both stood, and he kissed the top of my head the way he had since I was fourteen.
“We’ll start tomorrow, then?” I asked.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
When my mother woke, she asked Marthe to find me, and we spent the rest of the afternoon making plans for a wedding that would never happen. The guilt of what I was doing made my heart hurt.
By the time I dressed for dinner, my emotions were raw and I doubted I’d ever have a wedding of my own. Planning one that wasn’t real was exhausting enough. I would never have the energy for the real thing.
Dagger was buttoning his cuffs when I came in.
“How was your afternoon?” I asked.
“Rémy talked for six hours straight. How was yours?”
“We planned a wedding all afternoon. Flowers, linens, whether I’ll wear white or ivory.”
“Did you leave anything for me to do?”
“You will stand at the end of the aisle and be on time.”
“I can manage one of the two.” He winked.
I sat at the mirror and put on my earrings.
“You’re tired,” he said, coming to stand behind me.
“I did little all day but think about things that will never happen.”
He let it go, and I was grateful and ashamed at the same time.
I could have told him about my mother’s illness right then, and he would have listened.
That was the problem. If I said the words out loud, I would cry, and then I’d walk into dinner and my mother would know in an instant that I had.
She wanted a celebration tonight, and I was determined to give her one.
When Dagger offered his arm at the top of the stairs, I took it.
Rémy held my chair and nodded at the bottle of wine already open on the table. “What’s the special occasion?” he asked.
“Our daughter is engaged, and our future son-in-law is here. Let’s celebrate them,” my mother told him.
My father stood and raised his glass. “It has been more than thirty years since there’s been a wedding at Valais. It will be a celebration like nothing the valley has ever seen.”
“And to the man who makes my daughter laugh,” Maman said, raising her glass toward Dagger.
He leaned in close to me. “Is everything all right?” he asked, quietly enough that only I heard.
“Perfectly.”
Until this moment, he’d been the only person in this house I didn’t have to lie to.
“I’ve given thought to the guest list,” my father began.
“Papa—”
“It’s short. Only eighty names.”
I gasped. “Eighty?”
“It cannot be done properly with fewer. There is the appellation to consider.”
“You cannot invite the entire appellation to a wedding.”
“You cannot leave anyone out, either. They’ll notice.”
Dagger coughed into his fist.
“I said it would be family only.”
“Eighty is family only,” Rémy joked. “You should see the original list he made.”
“You’re not helping.”
“I’m not trying to help. I’m enjoying myself. Which reminds me.” He stood, glass in hand, smirking. “I have a complaint to raise against this man.”
“Rémy,” Maman said in her warning tone, but she was smiling.
“I’ve watched these two since they arrived.” He pointed at Dagger. “He kisses her hand, her forehead, her hair, like a priest at mass. They’re supposed to be newly engaged.”
“It is a fair observation,” my father agreed, leaning against his chair. He was enjoying himself too.
“It’s not an observation. It’s a demand.” Rémy lifted his glass higher. “Do it properly, or I’ll refuse to make a speech.”
“That’s not the threat you think it is,” Dagger joked.
“It’s tradition,” said my mother, winking.
“It is not,” I said. “You invented it this minute.”
“It’s my right as the mother of the bride.”
Dagger turned in his chair and smirked as he waited, enjoying the position he was putting me in far too much.
“Fine,” I muttered, leaning forward and cupping his face with my hands. I angled mine and brought my mouth to his.
Before I could end the chaste kiss, he put his hand on the back of my neck and eased my lips open with his tongue. No one had ever kissed me like he had, and I doubted anyone else ever would.