Chapter Thirteen
Ava had yet to see Ransom at the wedding. Thank God.
He’d done a fabulous job, and she was afraid her gratitude to him for saving the day might weaken her resolve.
The Sunday afternoon wedding was held in the backyard of Bob and Susan Spencer’s Portola Valley home. Attendance wasn’t a massive spectacle, just family and a few friends—some of the foster kids Gideon mentored; Zach, one of his buddies from the army, and his family; Ernestina Sanchez, mother of Karmen, the woman who’d given Gideon that amazing Miguel Fernando Correa painting. They were all friends who were important to both Gideon and Rosie.
When the Mavericks had moved the Spencers into the house less than a year ago—transplanting their parents from Chicago—they’d added a large deck and a flagstone patio around the pool. Now, for the wedding, they’d cleared more of the lot; built a gazebo with a raised floor large enough to accommodate the ceremony and the dinner’s head table; planted shrubs, flowers, and a lawn for the chairs and tables; and laid down a temporary dance floor.
The sky was a cloudless blue and the weather gorgeous, but then, late September often was in the Bay Area. Ransom had set up a pre-ceremony cocktail hour with a mobile bar cart serving champagne, punch, and fruit-infused water along with canapés, blackened-fish lettuce wraps, shrimp cocktails, and tiny quiches. Ava couldn’t resist trying one of each. After all, they were only a bite.
And they were to die for.
She’d then snagged a glass of champagne, and now she stood with two of her brothers, Troy and Dane, and, of course, Cammie. Dane was never without Cammie.
Nor was he without Fernsby, who’d made the wedding cake with Gabby. Amazingly, they were both still alive. At least at this point.
It was a terrible faux pas, but they were all talking about Clay’s date.
Fernsby said the unthinkable. “Well.” He cleared his throat. “She is rather…” He paused dramatically. “Well endowed.” His lips stretched around the word.
Clay was deep in conversation with Sebastian Montgomery, probably about some media platform, since media was what they had in common. His date seemed to be not-so-patiently waiting, her foot tapping, her gaze roaming as if she’d been expecting to meet some huge celebrities. The Mavericks were certainly celebrated and huge, but they weren’t famous actors or sports stars.
Cammie frowned. “You can’t talk about a woman’s personal assets like that, Fernsby.”
Fernsby, tall and lean—one might even say spare—merely raised an eyebrow. “But they aren’t something you can ignore, Camille. I don’t believe she wants them to be ignored. Which is why I am giving them their due.”
Ava couldn’t help chuckling. He was probably right about that.
“I don’t suppose he’s terribly serious about her.” After a pause, Fernsby added, “Is he?”
No one answered.
Her brother Clay was a flavor-of-the-month type. He never dated anyone for long. Ava wasn’t sure he’d ever had a long-term relationship. Since relationships were a taboo subject in the family—the only taboo subject, in fact, and what a wonderful legacy from their parents it was—Ava had no idea.
Except that Clay seemed to have friends, not girlfriends.
“I wonder if she has some artistic ability we don’t know about,” Fernsby mused.
Troy guffawed. “Like what? Pole dancing?”
Cammie shushed him. “Just because she’s—”
“Well endowed?” Fernsby furnished with a raised brow when Cammie seemed unable to find another word.
“That doesn’t mean she’s an exotic dancer,” Cammie insisted. “She could be a dentist.”
Even Dane had to laugh then. “Drilling, filling, and billing?”
Cammie frowned at them. “You’re all so bad.”
A smile lurked even on Fernsby’s thin lips. Ava swore she’d seen that barely there smile more than once over the past few months, especially after Dane and Cammie finally got together.
It was time to take the spotlight off Clay. Ava said to Troy, “So, tell us where your flavor of the month is.”
Troy just smiled. Enigmatically. As if he wanted to keep them guessing. “I prefer stag for weddings. That way, no one gets any ideas.”
Fernsby drawled, “This speculation is beneath all of us. I must attend to the cake.”
When he was gone, Ava asked, “Didn’t he start the speculation?”
Watching Fernsby’s long-limbed figure retreat, they smiled in his wake. The man was unfathomable.
Susan Spencer left the house, crossing the deck and giving Fernsby’s arm a squeeze as she passed.
“There’s Susan,” Ava said. “I want a quick word with her.” She excused herself from the group.
Reaching Susan’s side, Ava put her hand on her arm. “I just have to say that it’s a wonderful way for all the kids to enjoy the wedding as well.” With a tip of her chin, Ava indicated the kids’ tent off to the side.
The young ones were being entertained with movies and games. Ransom had prepared several different sandwiches, including grilled cheese, as well as chicken fingers, macaroni and cheese, and personal pizzas. All the favorite kid foods.
Next to that, the moms’ tent catered to those who were breast-feeding and had infants who needed changing. In this gathering, that included quite a few.
The Mavericks had thought of everything, creating the most amazing kid and mommy zone, including sitters to care for the children so the moms could enjoy the festivities.
But then, they were Mavericks. Of course they thought of everything.
“It’s worked out perfectly,” Susan said. “Children can get bored at weddings, with all the pomp and ceremony.” She wore a beautiful peach-colored cocktail dress appropriate for an outdoor afternoon wedding, her short silver hair feathered back from her face. She was a lovely woman, and she adored her children.
From the corner of her eye, Ava saw Ransom step out of the house. Even if her back had been to the kitchen doorway, she would have known it was him. And Lord, he looked amazing in a fitted black tux, his salt-and-pepper hair shimmering in the sunlight.
She hoped he wasn’t about to ask Susan’s opinion on something for the wedding dinner.
Just in case, Ava steered Susan away. “You’ve been to a lot of weddings recently, haven’t you?”
Susan Spencer was the Maverick matriarch. Even if they’d all come from different parents—except Susan and Bob’s two biological children, Daniel and Lyssa—each Maverick called Susan Mom.
Susan clasped her hands over her heart. “It’s a dream come true for my boys. They’ve all found the most wonderful women. And all the new babies too. I’m the happiest grandmother in the world.” Her eyes sparkled with tears of joy. Three babies had swelled the Maverick ranks over the summer. Matt’s wife, Ari, had given Noah a little sister, Penelope. Lyssa and Cal had welcomed a baby boy, Owen, and of course, there was Gideon and Rosie’s daughter, Isabella.
Touching Ava’s arm, Susan said, “And it’s been so lovely watching Dane and Cammie’s love story grow right before our eyes.”
That was just like Susan. Romantic stars glittered in her eyes. She smiled and leaned closer to say, “Only mothers can get away with asking something like this, but is there anyone special in your life?”
Ava automatically glanced at Ransom talking with his bartender at the mobile bar cart. He looked so good in that tux, she could have drooled.
Realizing too late what she’d done, she snapped her gaze back to Susan. “No.” Despite herself, the single word came out breathlessly.
“Oh, okay.” Susan paused, just for a second, and Ava sensed she’d seen something in that brief glance. Then the sweet woman said brightly, “It’s truly wonderful that Ransom stepped in to save the wedding feast. And on such short notice too. I know Rosie and Gideon are so grateful to you, as we all are, for putting them in touch with him. He’s such a delightful, thoughtful, exceptional man.”
Then, after a quick kiss on Ava’s cheek, away she went.
Susan Spencer had eyes like a hawk, and with just that one look, she’d definitely picked up on something between Ava and Ransom.
Ava would have to be far more careful around her brothers.
Fernsby stepped out of the house and clapped his hands loudly enough to stop conversations across the entire yard. He cleared his throat. “The wedding is about to begin,” he intoned. “Please take your seats.” He seemed to have developed a new talent as a wedding planner.
Marching down the stairs, directing as he went, he told this couple to sit there and pointed that couple into those two seats. Reaching Ava, he latched on to her arm and steered her not to the row where her brothers sat, but several rows back, directing her into a chair one seat over from the aisle.
When she said, eyebrows raised, “There’s room up there next to Cammie,” Fernsby answered, “That seat is already taken.” Then, as if he thought she didn’t believe him, he tapped his temple. “I have all the seating arrangements right up here.”
Ava shook her head and stayed where she was. You couldn’t argue with Fernsby.
* * *
Fernsby tucked Susan Spencer’s hand into the crook of his elbow. “My dear lady, since your husband will be walking the bride down the aisle, may I escort you to your seat?”
She smiled at him. “Why, Fernsby, I’d be delighted. It seems as if my boys have forgotten me.”
Fernsby allowed himself a twinkle in his eye. “Never, dear lady. I orchestrated that, as I wished to have the honor.”
“Fernsby,” she said in the same formal tones, “you are a sly one.”
“I appreciate the compliment, madam.”
In only a few short months, Susan Spencer had the enviable position of making herself one of his favorite people. Her admirable spirit spoke to him. The woman had known terrible hardship, but she’d never lost her sense of duty or her ability to love with all her big heart. It couldn’t have been easy raising five boys and a baby girl with so little money in an impoverished Chicago neighborhood. But she had created a strong, loving family. A miracle, when one considered that four of those boys were not even of her own union with her beloved husband, Robert.
He felt a kinship with her, as he had taken charge of the Harringtons long ago. Even if they didn’t know it.
With most of the other guests seated, he slowly walked Susan down the grassy aisle. She was the closest thing the bride had to a mother, and she would take that exalted position as the last to be seated, Fernsby had determined, though he was sure the Mavericks had reserved it for her anyway.
Susan said in a voice too low for anyone else to hear, “I see you left the seat empty next to Ava. It seems to me that you, Fernsby, a man always with plans, have a plan for that seat too.”
He allowed an evil smile to slide across his lips. “Indeed I do, dear lady.”
There was never any artifice in Susan Spencer’s smiles. And this one was knowing. “May I assume you’re matchmaking?” Again, she added a formal cadence to her words that Fernsby appreciated.
He tapped his temple and said smoothly, “As you said, dear lady, Fernsby always has a plan.”
“You are a truly inestimable man,” she said, laughter in her voice.
Fernsby helped her into the front-row seat, the chair next to her empty for her husband to return to after giving away the bride. Leaning close, he murmured, “Enjoy the wedding, dear lady.”
Then he walked back down the aisle, heading straight for Ransom Yates.
Because Fernsby had a few fireworks to light under someone’s backside.
* * *
An instrumental version of Taylor Swift’s “Lover” had just begun when Fernsby guided Ransom into the empty seat beside her.
“What are you doing here?” Ava asked, trying not to sound sharp. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing your chef thing?”
Ransom just smiled, a sparkle in his eye. “Everything is under control. Just as you said, I have a lot of great people working with me. They can take the lead while I enjoy the wedding with you.”
With me? When did I turn into your date?
Yet there was that secret part of her heart that thrilled to have him next to her.
Ari came down the aisle first as Rosie’s bridesmaid. They had been best friends since childhood, when they were in foster care together. After that came Jorge and Noah as ring bearers, Jorge carrying his mother’s ring and Noah bearing Gideon’s.
At the front, Gideon stood tall in a tuxedo perfectly tailored to his body. He was a big man—all the Mavericks were—a handsome blond guy whose look of love for Rosie softened his features. Matt Tremont, Ari’s husband and Gideon’s brother-in-law, was his best man. Matt looked down the aisle, watching Ari approach as if they were getting married all over again.
As the wedding march began, Bob Spencer walked Rosie down the aisle. She wore the traditional white wedding dress, a beautiful two-foot train trailing behind her. Pearls delicately covered the gown’s bodice, her shoulders bare above it, while a filmy veil draped over her face.
Most of the children were in the kids’ tent, but a nanny had brought Rosie’s two-month-old to Susan only moments before the wedding began. The baby girl, even if she would have no recollection or understanding, needed to be part of her parents’ wedding.
As Rosie passed, the child reached out chubby fingers, grabbing her mother’s veil and tugging it off. Then, unbelievably, baby Isabella somehow pulled it crookedly over her own head.
For one long second, the entire assembly held its breath. Until Rosie began to laugh as the baby, batting at the veil, managed to make it drift down over her face just like a bride. Leaning over, Rosie rubbed noses with her sweet child and said loudly enough for everyone to hear, “That’s yours, sweet pea, to wear when you’re all grown up.”
Sighs of awe and joy rose up all around. The photographer snapped what would be a marvelous photo of Rosie and the baby, Susan looking down at the little girl with such love it almost brought tears to Ava’s eyes.
Ransom leaned in to whisper, “That’s the cutest damn thing ever.”
The minister began the ceremony. Ava hadn’t been to a lot of weddings—in fact, she generally avoided them. But she couldn’t avoid the heat of Ransom’s body beside her, nor the memory of all the plans she’d had when she was too young to realize that plans never worked out. At least not where she and Ransom were concerned.
The minister said, “The bride and groom will recite the vows they’ve written to each other.”
Gideon took the ring off the small pillow that Jorge held and, taking Rosie’s hand in his, slipped it over the tip of her finger.
In a deep voice that trembled with emotion, he said, “I had so much to thank you for even before I knew you. For how you found my sister in foster care and took care of her and loved her.” He glanced at Ari, exchanging a smile as a single tear trickled down her cheek. “I recognized how special you were from the moment I saw you, but I told myself I had to think of you as a sister, because you and Ari are sisters of the heart. Trying to hold back the way I felt about you was like trying to hold back an ocean wave. My love for you simply crashed over me, and all I could do was hold on and ride that wave with you. And I’m so glad I stopped fighting it. You’ve given me an amazing son.” He ruffled Jorge’s hair. Gideon wasn’t his biological father, and they looked nothing alike, but his love for the boy glowed in his face.
He turned back to Rosie, the love of his life. “And now we have a beautiful daughter.” Emotion wobbled in his voice, and he stopped a moment to gather himself. “I love all of you with all my heart. I will protect you with all my love from anyone who might try to harm you.”
The words might seem unusual for marriage vows, but Ava knew the story. Rosie’s ex had been a terrible man, and Gideon had protected her and Jorge with everything in him.
Then his voice dropped, his vow for Rosie alone, barely carrying out to their guests. “I will always love you. I will always be here for you. For our children. For our family. In accepting me as your husband, you’ve made me complete in a way I’ve never been before.”
He slid the gold ring fully onto Rosie’s finger, and without her veil, Ava could see tears streaming down her face.
Noah stepped up then, after a little prod from Ari, and Rosie took the ring from his pillow. Then both boys left the gazebo, taking seats next to Bob and Susan.
With Gideon’s hand in hers, Rosie held the ring just short of putting it on his finger. She spoke in a musical voice that was all Rosie. “I loved you from the moment Ari told us all her stories about her special big brother. I always knew in my heart that you would find her again and, when you did, that you would find me too. You are my support, my warrior, the father of my beautiful children, and my true love. I loved you from the beginning, but I fell in love with you when I watched you with our son, when I saw the way you looked at him, as if he belonged to you as a son belongs to a father. I love the way you look at our children, the way you talk to them, the tears in your eyes as you gaze at them. You are the best man I’ve ever known. In making you my husband, I am now complete in a way I’ve never been before. And I will love you for the rest of my life and beyond.”
There wasn’t a dry eye in that garden. Even Ava dabbed at her lashes, and when she looked at Ransom, she swore she saw a glimmer of moisture in his gaze too.
Then the minister declared them husband and wife. “You may kiss the bride.”
There were all sorts of kisses—she’d seen enough chick flicks to know—but Gideon and Rosie’s kiss was one of the most beautiful. Cupping Rosie’s face in his big hands, Gideon tipped her face up to his, tasting her lips as if she were a precious elixir. As if he would never let her go.
And Ava knew he wouldn’t.
Everyone rose to their feet then, and the smiling couple, hands joined, walked together down the aisle to hoots and hollers and cheers and laughter and love. Ari and Matt followed, hands clasped, eyes only for each other. Grinning, rolling their eyes at all the mushy stuff, the boys followed.
When Ava turned to see the two couples reach the end of the aisle, she found Ransom right there. Instead of watching the bride and groom, he was looking at her, and something in his gaze dragged her in.
The urge to go up on tiptoe and press her lips to his was almost too powerful to resist. But resist she must, because that way lay epic disaster.
She pushed him into the aisle. “You’d better go. You’re on now.”
Before the crowd pulled him away toward the bride and groom, he mouthed, I’ll catch you later.
His words seemed dangerously prophetic.