Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [16]
Paul lifted his hand to them as he got out of the driver’s seat, and they waved back. He came around the car and offered an arm to each of the blondes. Paul, with his perfectly styled chestnut hair and blue eyes, always looked as though he had just stepped out of a high-priced magazine ad yet never looked out of place. He possessed the kind of effortless charm that few could resist, and these two were no exception. They wrapped their hands around his arms, laughing as he spoke to them, and he escorted them up the wide front steps onto the porch.
“Darlings,” he said with a flourish, “may I present to you the legendary Cici Burke, Lindsay Wright, and Bridget Tyndale.”
The ladies smiled and bobbed their heads in turn.
“Ladies, my pleasure to introduce Catherine North-Dere, mother of the bride, and her delightful daughter Traci.”
“Cici, Bridget, dearest Lindsay...” Catherine swept forward and caught them each into an embrace as tepid as pool water, all boney shoulders and musky perfume. “I feel I know you already! You are so good to have us out, really. Paul has told us so much about you.”
Her voice was smoky and warm and her smile seemed genuine, and the ladies relaxed a little. Cici said, “It’s our pleasure, really. We love to show off our house.”
“Well, I can certainly see why.” With a breath of pure pleasure, she surveyed the view—the tranquil sheep in the emerald meadow, blue-shadowed mountains beyond, frothy apple trees in bloom, daffodil-lined paths, pink weigela and deep blush azaleas swaying in the breeze. “This is just magnificent. Isn’t it, darling?”
“Heaven,” replied Traci absently, snapping photographs with her cell phone. “Where’s the chapel?”
Catherine’s hand closed about her daughter’s arm, tightly. Her smile was frozen. “No chapel, sweetie. This is a private home, remember?”
Traci stopped taking pictures. “Oh. Right.”
Catherine smiled apologetically. “This has been such a nightmare. We must have seen two dozen places in the past week, and the stress ... well, you just can’t imagine.”
Bridget said quickly, “You’ve had a long drive. You’ll want to freshen up. Let me show you inside.”
Paul held his smile until the two blondes had followed Bridget inside, and then he came forward to kiss Cici, then Lindsay. “If this works out,” he said, “you are going to owe me so big.”
“Or maybe,” Cici replied dryly, casting an uneasy eye toward the house, “you’ll owe us.”
Catherine was effusive about the staircase, the chandelier, the stained glass over the landing, the bay window in the living room. Traci whipped out her cell phone for pictures of the garden, the stone patio with the view of the mountains, the bubbling fountain, and the statue of the girl with the flower basket. She wanted to know what color the roses were and when they bloomed. Other than that, she didn’t speak.
Bridget served minted asparagus soup with a smoked bacon and rosemary-infused olive oil garnish, and glowed beneath Catherine’s praise. “Darling, you can’t mean you have no formal training! This is indescribable. I’m telling you the truth, if you were to open a restaurant in Washington, you couldn’t keep the crowds away. Paul, am I right?”
The four-cheese soufflé with a roasted pepper puree was as light as air, and elicited nothing but superlatives from their guests, and the mini scones stuffed with cherries and cream cheese were a sensation. In a very European move that caused both Cici’s and Lindsay’s eyebrows to shoot skyward, Bridget served the wild dandelion salad with raspberry vinaigrette after the main course, accompanied by miniature cheese biscuits and an exotic touch of pinot noir jam.
“It’s absolutely transcendental,” Catherine rhapsodized. “The difference fresh ingredients make—why, it’s just miraculous, isn’t it, Traci? I assume everything is organic?”
“Not officially,” Bridget tried to explain. “Although we don’t use pesticides or chemicals, you have to meet certain standards...”
Traci gazed out toward the meadow. “Do the sheep come with?”
Lindsay looked confused. “I don’t know where else they would