“I want to marry you at the Ocean House. I want us to stay in the Tower Suite. I want it to be in December, as close to the date when I proposed to you and you said yes,” he said. “I want there to be music. I want to feed you wedding cake. I want to dance until midnight.”
Kate closed her eyes. Thoughts and memories sped through her mind: the tent, the rehearsal dinner, the chapel, the hydrangeas, the dress. Every single memory hurt, but they also made her smile—because every detail had been decided with love. She and Conor loved the Ocean House more than anywhere in the world. It was where they had gotten engaged, and it held magic for them that they never found anywhere else.
“You’re right,” she said. “That’s where we are getting married. The Ocean House.”
“On Christmas Eve?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “On Christmas Eve. Can we have snow?”
“Of course we can,” Conor says.
Did he look a little nervous, making that promise? Kate smiled and kissed him. Not letting him off the hook for snow, but just because she wanted to kiss him.
And so, here they were.
It was Christmas Eve.
Outside the Ocean House, the verandah sparkled with white lights woven around evergreen garlands, wrapping the banisters, and up the stately white columns. A great, enormous wreath hung from the top of the portico, festive scarlet ribbons whipping in the ferocious winter wind. Snow blew sideways, straight off the Atlantic.
There was a nor’easter, and Conor swore to Kate that he hadn’t planned it. He had proposed to her right here, in a suite upstairs, in a blizzard, at CeCe’s party.
So, with that history, how could they not have CeCe as their flower girl? And Hadley, CeCe’s aunt, as a bridesmaid? And Sam as Kate’s maid of honor?
Tom, of course, was best man. His wife, Jackie, was a bridesmaid too. Actually, so was Aunt Anne.
Uncle Mike, in his capacity as a judge, would officiate.
Brian Goldrick was there to join them, and to serve Foggy Nights—the special cocktail he had created last summer, just for Kate and Conor’s wedding.
The Watch Hill Chapel was the place Kate had dreamed of getting married, of walking down the aisle under curved beams reminiscent of the ribs of an old ship. She had always loved the messages beside the altar, especially:
The Church is Many
—as the Waves—
But One as the Sea
But the chapel opened in June and closed in September, the lovely building suited only for the warmer weather, so Kate and Conor invited their guests to join them in the Tower Suite for their wedding. Frances, the fairy godmother of Ocean House weddings, made it perfect.
There was a fire in the hearth. No blue hydrangeas this time, and Kate had specifically requested no roses. Frances had offered to fill the suite with white ranunculus, bouvardia, calla lilies, anemone, and tulips, and at first Kate had said no, she didn’t need a lot of flowers. Plus, flowers were such a big part of 1740: Enchanted Petals, the roses that opened and died and fell away.
But Sam had convinced Kate that she did need flowers.
“Auntie, the world went dark for a while, and nothing was in bloom. It was as if all the flowers died. I thought they’d never come back. But you’re alive, you survived. I want you to have a whole garden. We all want that because we’re so grateful you’re here,” Sam said, breaking down and hugging Kate so hard it hurt.
So Kate had said yes, and Frances had chosen the most beautiful flowers to be found anywhere, never mind in a blizzard. And Kate was so glad she did, because she had driven all those wicked associations away. She had given Kate a garden of love.
The Tower Suite was at the very top of the Ocean House. The suite had multiple levels. Kate got dressed in the bedroom; Conor and their wedding guests were one flight up. Faith, the harpist, was playing, but the roaring wind nearly drowned her out. Kate looked out the window and saw snow falling so hard it was impossible to see the ocean. The beam of Watch Hill Lighthouse was a mere flicker through the whiteout.
Kate’s wounds had mostly healed, but the nerves were still raw, the muscles still strained. She didn’t have a gown this time. She had a cream-colored long silk skirt that she’d worn in the past and a white cashmere cardigan that had belonged to her sister, Beth.
“Okay if I come in?” Conor asked through the closed bedroom door.
“Yes,” Kate said.
He entered the room and walked over to where Kate stood by the bureau. Very carefully, he helped her step into her silk skirt, one leg at a time. He pulled it up, and she closed the button at her waist. He slid the sweater around her shoulders and gingerly helped her put each arm into a sleeve. She had to sit down on the edge of the bed from the exertion.
While she was sitting there, catching her breath, Conor brushed her hair. That gave her a chance to look at him. He was dressed the way he always was when they did something special: a blue blazer, white oxford shirt, striped tie, and gray pants.
