Epilogue
MY NEW BEST FRIEND’S SISTER’S WEDDING
Cricket
Caro’s wedding day dawns dark and stormy, prompting worries about both the wedding and the grapes—we’re right at harvest time—but by midmorning, everything has cleared away with less rainfall than expected, and we put on the world’s most perfect outdoor winery wedding.
Mostly.
Is anything ever really perfect?
The bride walked down the aisle, led by Lavender the dragon-slaying flower girl who kicked and punched her way to the front and accidentally threw her whole basket of flowers in Simon Luckwood’s face.
Not just the flowers.
The basket too.
Fluffy got out of the house and decided she needed to join the festivities, so she crossed the fields to saunter down the aisle and splay herself out on Mike’s feet as they were beginning their vows.
Which would’ve been fine if he wasn’t allergic.
But Heath’s right—Mike’s a great guy, and he took it all in stride, and Caro assured me as I rescued the cat—and the sneezing groom—that she loves personality in her special events.
So they’re married now.
The happy couple’s families and celebrity friends are mingling and indulging in appetizers passed around by a small army of our local friends who’ve been sworn to secrecy while various musicians who are here take turns serenading the bride and groom.
And most everyone’s happy and relaxed and seeming to enjoy themselves.
“How’re you doing?” I ask Mabel as I cross paths with her on my way to refill my appetizer tray to make another round with the guests. She’s leaning against one corner of the stone banquet hall building, watching.
“I’m still alive,” she says dryly.
“If it helps, I don’t think Mike knows you had to go breathe into a paper bag after you ran into him this morning,” I tell her.
And that’s not an exaggeration.
I did actually have to get her a paper bag.
And Ten saw the whole thing, which only made it worse for poor Mabel.
Whatever he did to her, he did it bad.
She grimaces. “I cannot believe I said that to him.”
Because I love Mabel, I’m refusing to even acknowledge in my mind what she said when she finally came face-to-face with Mike this weekend. “Given everything else, I think he understands.”
“I should go help,” she says.
“Nope. You get the day off. You’ve done plenty.”
“Agreed,” Heath says behind me. As it turns out, that pink hair dye was permanent. I helped him dye it back to something close to its normal brown earlier this week. “Both of you, in fact. Everything’s good here. Go kick your feet up. Watch from the roof or something.”
He steals my empty tray and plants a kiss on my head.
“You should,” Mabel agrees, nodding to me.
“No, I like to work.”
“Cricket. You have done enough.”
I grin.
It’s been like this for the past three days, ever since I came in from the fields, dragging Winona with me, to make her repeat to Mabel what she told me when I showed up for a lesson in tasting grapes to see if it’s time to harvest them yet.
And it was for the earliest variety of grapes, so we’ve now harvested the first of our fields.
Our fields.
Our fields with our grapes that will make the first wine to be produced by Makepeace Cellars in over a dozen years, though we’ll be rebranding before we sell it.
Winona’s retiring.
Retiring retiring.
With the extra yields she’s gotten with our grapes since Dean passed, she’s been able to save up faster than expected, and she’s in discussions with her dad about the best way to put their winery up for sale.
In the meantime, she’s helping us harvest and get our first grapes to fermentation.
And Elizabeth sent us a ridiculous check to help out. Apparently she’s always controlled the finances, her soon-to-be ex doesn’t know how much they have, and she wanted to say thank you.
We’re doing this.
We’re opening a winery, and we’ll have product to sell by late spring, and in the meantime, I suggested to the family that if we’re going to be the most notorious winemakers in the county, then we need to sell adult toys in the tasting room’s gift shop too.
Ginny’s been buried in wedding stuff with Caro all week, but she cornered me to squeal about everything yesterday morning.
Today, she’s—well.
She’s okay.
Her mom arrived for the wedding, and that hasn’t been great.
And that guy—Declan Fox—he’s here today too, which was unexpected, but it looks like we’re probably doing the documentary.
It’s publicity that we might not need, but we didn’t want to turn it down, and Ginny’s planning on just avoiding him whenever he’s filming here.
You could say I’m covering for her there, being the resident going on camera to represent us all.
I have the experience. So I’m facing my fears and I’m showing my face again.
Especially if it helps my family here.
I would’ve been happier if I’d gotten some of the money from Romeo to help, but there wasn’t any left. And the Cheeky Beaver channel has been permanently deleted at Heath’s insistence.
He was right when he said it would cause me too much stress.
“I haven’t done enough yet,” I tell Mabel, “because I still want to do more.”
“Don’t burn yourself out,” she says.
“I don’t think it’s possible to burn yourself out doing things you love,” I reply.
I slide a glance at Heath and wink at him, and he blushes as Mabel smirks.
“Okay,” she says. “I suppose you can keep doing…that.”
“I’m going back to running this wedding,” Heath says, but he’s smiling as he kisses my forehead. “Both of you, go kick your feet up. I’ve got this.”
I stare at his ass as he heads back into the banquet hall to refill my tray.
“You’re not being subtle,” Mabel tells me.
“Wasn’t trying to be,” I reply with another grin.
She barks out a laugh, then slips an arm around me. “Who would’ve thought you’d come here, punch a guy, and end up being everything he ever needed?”
My heart is full to bursting. “Definitely not me when I got here.”
“I’m glad you’re staying. You fit here. And we’re going to do amazing things.”
We are.
Undoubtedly.
We’ll have more hiccups along the way—this documentary will be interesting, I’m sure—but this is where I’m supposed to be, and who I’m supposed to be with.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
My Cheeky Beaver notoriety and all.