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And if we're lucky, Quinn will see it and get the fuck out of here before we get back…
Five
Ian's parents' house was almost as impressive as his own.
The white stucco on the outside matched his almost entirely, and though the place wasn't on the water, it was dotted with so many flowerbeds that it was easy to forget it wasn't a hotel, but someone's property. Near the corner of the house, a lady lay in a hammock, reading a book with a racy cover. When they hopped from the car, she struggled to get out of the swing and over the greet them.
"Ian!" she shouted, waving her hands so wildly that Zoe was half-worried she'd mess up her perfectly coiffed tuft of silver hair. Her eyes were bright and blue like Ian's, set off by a pair of bright red glasses that matched her lipstick.
"Hey, Mom," Ian said, and he folded the older woman into a hug, holding her close for a long moment before finally releasing her.
"My goodness," she said when she pulled back. "You must be Zoe."
Zoe blinked. "Um, yes. Nice to meet you.”
The other wo
man took her hand in both of hers and shook it gently. "I'm sorry. You just look so much like your sister."
Zoe blinked again. Strictly speaking, this had never been true. While she and Quinn did have the same golden hair, they were hardly the same in terms of build or temperament. Where Zoe moved with rigid determination, Quinn practically floated from one place to another. Where Zoe was all neutrals and nudes, Quinn was color and life. Quinn, in short, had always been the beautiful one, the entrancing one.
And Zoe?
She'd been the practical one. Always.
"Thank you," she said, realizing she'd paused overlong, and the other woman smiled back at her.
"I'm Charlene. So glad to meet you. Almost time for dinner. Ian always did know when to make an entrance." She winked and then asked them to come in. Zoe followed her into a bright white room with navy and gold accents.
It was exactly the kind of place she'd always wished her house had been when they were growing up. Above the wide navy sectional was a family portrait from what must have been years ago, featuring Ian's mother when she'd been a spritely blond woman with twenty fewer pounds but the same broad, warm smile. Ian's father looked just like Ian did now, with the same mane of dark hair, though his eyes were dark as well. He wore a mustache and a smile much like his wife's, and in the picture, his hand rested on a teenage-Ian's shoulder while he beamed at the camera.
"Okay, okay. Time for coffee." Ian's mother flapped her hands, and Ian made an excuse to follow her into the kitchen while Zoe lingered in the drawing room, studying the pictures along the mantel. Along with photos of Ian's graduation and a few of their family on fishing trips, there were a good dozen pictures of Charlene and her husband in all sorts of exotic locales—Hawaii, India, England, and even a few she couldn’t recognize right off the bat.
Beside the mantel hung an ornate frame with a single piece of lined paper inside it. The paper was trimmed with dried flowers that had once been pink and red but were now the brownish maroon of dead flowers. Zoe turned her attention to the words on the paper, though the handwriting was nearly illegible.
My Dearest Charlene,
I'm sitting here on the night before our wedding, thinking of you and wondering about the future that's ahead of us. Together, I know we can take on the world, and with you at my side, I have no doubt that years of happiness lay ahead. Still, as I think about our future, I have a few things I'd like to apologize for in advance.
I'm sorry for the nights I come home late, though it is not for any other reason than for the fact that I can't stand the idea of being away from you any longer than is absolutely necessary.
I'm sorry for not being hard enough on whatever children we may have. I know, deep in my heart, that when I look in their eyes and see you, I won't be able to reprimand them nearly as much as I'm sure any son or daughter of mine would deserve.
I'm sorry for the times when I forget how I feel right now, looking at the rest of forever with you. I can't imagine those days might come, but if they do, do me a favor and hand me this letter. It's my reminder to you and to me of the promise I'm making to you.
Finally, one thing I'm not sorry for—loving you. My love may irritate you when I'm overly protective or when I insist on taking care of you, but for those things, I can't apologize. I love you more than any person can love another person and maybe even more than that. To me, you are everything. You are the sun and the moon and the whole Earth, too. I love you. I love you. I love you. And I cannot wait to see you walking down that aisle toward me tomorrow.
Yours forever,
Daniel
Zoe brushed away a tear, all too aware of the urge to sob, just as Ian and his mother reentered the room side-by-side.
"Ah, you found my note," Charlene grinned. "Sweet, isn't it?"
Zoe nodded. "The sweetest. How long have you and your husband been together?"
"Thirty-five years now." Charlene beamed. "Good ones, too. All the men in my family have a romantic streak, isn't that right, Ian?"
