the lyrics after that,” he added with a laugh.
“I know this place has sentimental memories for her and Kyle. I think that’s sweet. But that’s made her see it through rose-colored glasses. She doesn’t realize what it really looks like. I mean, to someone who didn’t fall in love there. Maybe she thinks it will be magically transformed on her wedding day—like an old shoe turning into a glass slipper?”
“Maybe,” Frank said thoughtfully. He paused and looked down at the folder, at the etching of the inn on the cover. “Maybe it will be, for her. . . . Would that be so bad, Sylvia?”
Sylvia sat back, startled at her husband’s question. “Don’t tell me . . . not you, too? You have to see this place, Frank. I promise you, you won’t like it any more than I do.”
“I’ll take a look tomorrow. But I think I’ve already seen it. Two views. One through your eyes and one through Jen’s.” He paused. “I don’t want to force her to get married someplace she doesn’t like, and see her unhappy on such an important day, Syl. This is the last thing we’re really doing for her. Before she leaves our house forever.”
Sylvia swallowed and looked down at her hands, twisting her wedding band around her finger the way she did when she was nervous. “Oh, you get so dramatic sometimes. She’s going to live in Boston. We’ll see her all we like. She might even rent a little weekend place out here.”
“I get dramatic?” He laughed out loud. “Sylvia, just think about what I said, okay? This is Jen’s day. I want her to have what she wants. Not what we want.”
Sylvia seemed about to answer but her husband stood up. “I need some air. I’m going out to walk the dog. When will dinner be ready?”
“Oh, not for an hour or so. I still have to put the potatoes in the oven.”
Sylvia returned to her cooking. It had been a long day. At this rate, she would never make it through this wedding, no matter how simple Jennifer wanted it.
Jennifer and Frank just didn’t get it. The real burden was on her shoulders. Jennifer might have her lovely daydreams, but she didn’t understand the realities of a wedding. If she got her way, she wouldn’t be happy with the results. Sylvia was almost sure of it.
She heard her husband call the dog, a golden retriever mix named Margo who’d been part of the family since Jennifer was in fifth grade. Margo was really Jen’s dog; she slept in her room and followed her everywhere when she was around.
Sylvia wondered if Jen would take Margo to Boston but suspected that would be impractical. The city would be hard on the old dog. Margo would miss Jen. They all would.
For an old dog, she still had spirit and stumbled down the stairs when Frank called. Sylvia heard him click on the dog’s leash, then call upstairs again. “Jen? Want to take a little walk? I’m bringing Margo out.”
Sylvia stood very still, listening. “Okay. I guess I have time,” Jen called back.
Sylvia’s heart sank. She knew what that meant. They would talk things over, and Jennifer would convince her father she just couldn’t have a happy wedding day if she didn’t get married at the inn. It wouldn’t take much. He already seemed more than halfway there.
Well, what can I do? I tried my best. Sylvia sighed and started in on the potatoes, resignation setting in.
They can’t say I didn’t warn them.
Chapter Five
O N Saturday morning, Liza decided to tackle the garden. Sylvia could have been more diplomatic, but her critique had struck a nerve. Liza knew the woman was right; the entire back of the property needed attention, especially now that the warm weather had come on so suddenly. It seemed as if the plants—and the weeds and clinging vines—had sprung up overnight.
Since there were no guests staying over, Claire was taking the weekend off. Liza didn’t really know what the housekeeper and cook did with her time away from the inn. Maybe she visited friends or attended her church in
“I know this place has sentimental memories for her and Kyle. I think that’s sweet. But that’s made her see it through rose-colored glasses. She doesn’t realize what it really looks like. I mean, to someone who didn’t fall in love there. Maybe she thinks it will be magically transformed on her wedding day—like an old shoe turning into a glass slipper?”
“Maybe,” Frank said thoughtfully. He paused and looked down at the folder, at the etching of the inn on the cover. “Maybe it will be, for her. . . . Would that be so bad, Sylvia?”
Sylvia sat back, startled at her husband’s question. “Don’t tell me . . . not you, too? You have to see this place, Frank. I promise you, you won’t like it any more than I do.”
“I’ll take a look tomorrow. But I think I’ve already seen it. Two views. One through your eyes and one through Jen’s.” He paused. “I don’t want to force her to get married someplace she doesn’t like, and see her unhappy on such an important day, Syl. This is the last thing we’re really doing for her. Before she leaves our house forever.”
Sylvia swallowed and looked down at her hands, twisting her wedding band around her finger the way she did when she was nervous. “Oh, you get so dramatic sometimes. She’s going to live in Boston. We’ll see her all we like. She might even rent a little weekend place out here.”
“I get dramatic?” He laughed out loud. “Sylvia, just think about what I said, okay? This is Jen’s day. I want her to have what she wants. Not what we want.”
Sylvia seemed about to answer but her husband stood up. “I need some air. I’m going out to walk the dog. When will dinner be ready?”
“Oh, not for an hour or so. I still have to put the potatoes in the oven.”
Sylvia returned to her cooking. It had been a long day. At this rate, she would never make it through this wedding, no matter how simple Jennifer wanted it.
Jennifer and Frank just didn’t get it. The real burden was on her shoulders. Jennifer might have her lovely daydreams, but she didn’t understand the realities of a wedding. If she got her way, she wouldn’t be happy with the results. Sylvia was almost sure of it.
She heard her husband call the dog, a golden retriever mix named Margo who’d been part of the family since Jennifer was in fifth grade. Margo was really Jen’s dog; she slept in her room and followed her everywhere when she was around.
Sylvia wondered if Jen would take Margo to Boston but suspected that would be impractical. The city would be hard on the old dog. Margo would miss Jen. They all would.
For an old dog, she still had spirit and stumbled down the stairs when Frank called. Sylvia heard him click on the dog’s leash, then call upstairs again. “Jen? Want to take a little walk? I’m bringing Margo out.”
Sylvia stood very still, listening. “Okay. I guess I have time,” Jen called back.
Sylvia’s heart sank. She knew what that meant. They would talk things over, and Jennifer would convince her father she just couldn’t have a happy wedding day if she didn’t get married at the inn. It wouldn’t take much. He already seemed more than halfway there.
Well, what can I do? I tried my best. Sylvia sighed and started in on the potatoes, resignation setting in.
They can’t say I didn’t warn them.
Chapter Five
O N Saturday morning, Liza decided to tackle the garden. Sylvia could have been more diplomatic, but her critique had struck a nerve. Liza knew the woman was right; the entire back of the property needed attention, especially now that the warm weather had come on so suddenly. It seemed as if the plants—and the weeds and clinging vines—had sprung up overnight.
Since there were no guests staying over, Claire was taking the weekend off. Liza didn’t really know what the housekeeper and cook did with her time away from the inn. Maybe she visited friends or attended her church in
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