Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [93]
At four thirty Paul did a final walk-through, adjusted a table setting here, a languid rose petal there, and declared, “All right, troops, hit the showers.” He checked his watch and smiled approvingly. “And right on schedule.”
Things remained on schedule for another twenty-two minutes, at which point Ida Mae called up the stairs, “Somebody’s here!”
Cici dashed out of her bedroom in a terry robe, her hair half-dry and clipped up in sections on her head, barefoot and un-made-up. “That’s impossible!” she cried in dismay. “It takes an hour to get here from the Holiday Inn! Catherine couldn’t have made it already.”
Noah called, “Hey, no fair! I was supposed to park the cars!”
“It ain’t her,” Ida Mae called back. “It’s some man!”
“My hair is wet!” Lindsay checked in.
“I’ll be dressed in five minutes,” Bridget called, panic in her voice. “Paul is in the shower.”
“Crap!” Cici muttered. She raced back to her room, flung off the robe, and began to tug on the silk slacks and floaty white shirt that were tonight’s hostess uniform. “Is there anything worse than an early guest?”
The next thing she heard, almost as though in answer to that question, was Lori’s astonished exclamation from the front hall: “Daddy! What are you doing here?”
Cici, holding the blow-dryer like a weapon and staring at her own grimly horrified reflection in the mirror, said simply, “I’ll kill him.”
“Richard, you have to leave,” she declared, buttoning her cuff and tugging the clips from her hair as she hurried down the stairs. “I don’t care what your excuse is, you can’t be here.”
“Nice to see you, too, sweetie.” He was standing at the bottom of the stairs with Lori, grinning up at her, and he kissed Cici’s cheek as she skidded to a breathless stop in front of him. “Gorgeous old place,” he added, gazing around appreciatively. “Lori’s description didn’t do it justice.”
“Lori, finish getting dressed,” Cici demanded.
Lori, who was wearing a clean pair of khaki shorts and a T-shirt that left three inches of her waist exposed, explained, “I’m on kitchen duty, Mom. I don’t have to dress up.”
Cici stared at her. “Whose idea was that?” Then, focusing, she whipped her head back to Richard. “Richard, I told you we’re having an event here this weekend. I don’t have time—”
“I told him about the rehearsal dinner,” Lori said. “Did you know half your hair is wet?”
“What are you doing here?”
He rested a gentling hand on her arm, smiling his easy confident smile. “I told you I was flying out this weekend to look at property. I thought I’d surprise my girls.”
Lori’s face lit up. “Are you buying a place here, Dad?”
Cici gave him a look that could have shattered glass. And he was completely oblivious. “Ooops,” he said, “guess the cat’s out of the bag.” He grinned and gave Lori’s shoulders a one-armed hug. “And the word is bought, sweetie. I bought a place about ten miles away.”
Before Cici could recover her breath, Lindsay said from the landing in a carefully controlled tone, “Cici? Am I hallucinating?”
The next few minutes were a melee of voices, questions, explanations, and introductions as one by one the residents of Ladybug Farm came to discover that the guest who had arrived was not among those who were expected. “As I was trying to explain,” Cici said at last, raising her voice to be heard, “we’re having a party tonight, so Richard, you have to go. Now.”
“Mom, he’s come all this way!”
“I could help,” Richard volunteered. “I don’t mind.”
“So he could,” Paul declared, adjusting the knot in his apricot silk tie as he came down the stairs, jacket over his arm. “The only person I know who’s more charming than I am is your ex, sweetie, and we need a bartender.” He extended his hand to Richard as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Nice to see you, Richard.” He glanced over Richard’s polo shirt and khakis and decided, “You’ll need a jacket. Noah, take him upstairs and pick out one