Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [79]
Lori said philosophically “Kids. They see everything in black and white.” Then she turned to Paul, with only the faintest trace of anxiety. “But it’s just temporary right? I mean, you’re working on things?”
Paul returned a small smile, sipped his tea, and told Bridget, “Much better.”
Then he said, with forced enthusiasm, “What I’m working on now is getting you ladies through the wedding from hell. No, no .. he insisted when they started to protest, ”I got you into this, and I’ll get you out. I knew you were in trouble,” he confided, ”when I heard they’d fired their fourth wedding planner. I mean, excuse me, but Angela Gabriel is only the premier event coordinator in the tri-state area. You have to book her years in advance, and these people obviously pulled a hundred strings to even get on the list. Then to fire her? Clearly, they’re out of control. So I,” he declared magnanimously, ”am taking over.”
They all spoke at once. “Oh, Paul, really, you don’t have to—”
“You’re the best friend ever! But really—”
“We’ll take it!” Lori declared loudly, both hands raised over the din. And when the other three looked at her, shocked, she returned a stern gaze. “We are in no position to turn down professional help,” she informed them.
After a moment, Lindsay chuckled, and even Cici smiled. “Can’t argue with that,” she admitted.
Bridget gave Paul a one-armed hug. “Thank you,” she said. “And may God bless you and yours,” she added fervently, “forever.”
There was a strange, rhythmic clip-clopping sound, and they turned to see Noah leading the goat around the corner of the porch. The goat was chewing a piece of cardboard, and Noah had a strange look on his face.
“Noah!” Cici cried. “What are you doing? Get that goat off the porch!”
And Lindsay added, “How did she get out of her pen?”
Noah said with an uncomfortable shrug, “Sometimes she chews through the latch. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. She needs a house. Uh...” He looked from one to the other of them. “Did somebody leave a box on the back stoop?”
It took them a moment to understand the significance of the dark gooey substance that was smeared around the goat’s whiskers and chest hair and the gold-edged cardboard she was slowly masticating as they watched. Bridget rose slowly, her hand over her heart.
“No,” she gasped, swallowing hard. “Not the chocolates. Please say it’s not the chocolates.”
Lindsay’s expression was grim. “UPS must have delivered them this morning while we were busy in the back of the house. The driver always leaves packages on the back stoop.”
Bridget’s voice sounded a little choked, even as her hand traveled to her throat. “That goat,” she managed, “did not just eat a hundred individually boxed monogrammed chocolates.”
“No,” Noah assured her. “Not all of them.”
Bridget sank back against the wall and closed her eyes.
Cici looked at Paul and managed a small smile. “Welcome home,” she said.
“And,” he murmured, dusting off his hands as he rose, “not a moment too soon.”
January 12, 2009
Sweetheart,
I wish I could make you understand what it felt like for me to be apart from you all these years, to know you were out there in the world, making your way, making your mark, living your life—all without me. I want you to know how much I wanted to be with you and how hard I tried to find you and, in the end, why I couldn’t tell you the truth. I want you to forgive me. I want you to have a good life. I want you to think of me sometimes and smile. It’s selfish, I know. But that’s what I want.
Because I’ve always, always loved you.
13
Problems of Their Own
TO: Cici@LadybugFarmLadies.net
FROM: SMarcello319@mico.net
SUBJECT: Lori
Dear Signora Gregory (Lori’s mother):
am Sergio, Lori’s friend in Italy who she has told you about I am hoping. I am hoping also you will forgive me that I am e-mailing you in person from the address that is on your website, and that you will not think too badly of my English, which is better when speak it than when I write it. Please believe that I am not, as my