Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [94]
Richard winked at Cici as Noah led the way upstairs. “Looks like I’m hired.”
Cici stared after him in helpless dismay, and Paul looked her over critically. “You might consider a little lipstick and blush,” he suggested. “And the hair is a bit trendy for this crowd, I think.”
Bridget looked at her uncertainly. “Did I hear correctly? Did he say he had bought a place?”
“Ten miles away?” questioned Lindsay, and even Paul lifted an eyebrow.
“Look at it this way, Mom,” Lori offered helpfully. “At least you have a plus-one for the wedding tomorrow.”
Cici clutched the wet side of her hair with one hand and clapped the other over her un-made-up face. “My life,” she muttered, “is over.”
“Focus, ladies,” Paul commanded. He made a little shooing gesture to Cici. “Hair, makeup, go.” He tapped his watch. “Tick tock.”
“Bartender!” Cici glared at him as she started up the stars. “I’ll get you for this, and that’s a promise.”
But it was a promise she did not have time to keep, since before she reached the top of the stairs Catherine’s car was pulling up, horn honking imperiously. Before Lindsay and Bridget could even get the bridal gown out of the car and up the stairs to Lori’s room—which would be the bride’s staging room for the wedding—the bride herself arrived with three of her bridesmaids, demanding to see the garden setup. By the time Cici finished drying her hair and applying her makeup, strangers were wandering through the downstairs rooms of her house with drinks in their hands, gazing around like tourists in a museum, and more were meandering around the porch and spilling onto the lawn. Paul was in earnest conversation with Catherine, and Richard could be heard to say heartily, “Welcome to our home,” as he poured a glass of red wine for a bald man in a linen suit.
“My home,” Cici corrected sharply, and then tried to soften the words with a smile. “Welcome to Ladybug Farm. I’m Cici Burke, one of your hostesses this evening.” She passed a sideways glance to Richard. “He’s just helping out.”
While she conducted a rather pointless conversation with the man, who turned out to be the bride’s uncle and the officiant of the ceremony, she heard Richard say to one of the bridesmaids, “Now you look like someone who’d be interested in the bride’s special, an apricot-tini. Believe me,” he confided, “the color is the best part.” The girl burst into giggles, melting into his charm as effortlessly as any other twenty-three-year-old whose path he had ever crossed.
“Just like old times, huh, Ci?” he said, coming around the bar to stand beside her when they both found themselves momentarily alone. He handed her a martini glass with something apricot-colored in it. “You and me, good times, good food, good people.”
“No,” she said firmly. “No, it’s not just like old times.” She took a sip of the drink and grimaced a little. Apricots and martinis clearly were never meant to be mixed. “Our old times were beer and pizza and chicken pox.”
He smiled and caressed her back briefly. “Which is why we deserve to treat ourselves now.” Then, with a deep breath of the clear fresh air, “God, this place is beautiful. Just look at those trees. What are they, anyway? Just like a movie set.”
She stared up at him in blank incomprehension for a moment. “Richard, what are you doing here?”
“Living the dream, baby,” he replied, smiling at someone across the way. “Living the dream.”
“Richard, for heaven’s sake, what were you thinking? You bought property? In Virginia?”
He looked extremely pleased with himself. “Not just property, Ci, but eighty-seven acres of the most beautiful horse country you’ve ever seen. Fenced and cross-fenced, with a fifteen-stall barn already standing. I can’t wait to show it to you. It’s exactly what I was looking for. Exactly.”
“Eighty-seven acres?” Her voice was bordering on shrill as her incredulity rose. “Are you crazy? Why would you do such a thing?”
He chuckled. “At today’s prices, I’d be crazy to pass it by. It’s a great investment,