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Katrina ached with curiosity about this man. It had been more than twenty years since Agatha had had any romance in her life. And Calvin hadn’t exactly offered much in the way of romance during the majority of her marriage.
The man Agatha had brought stood five-foot-eleven, far taller than most eighty-something men. He wore a suit that was probably thirty years old, and he’d combed his hair with perfect strokes and gel. He carried a bouquet and smiled at Katrina nervously, as though he wanted to impress her just as much as he wanted to please Agatha. It broke Katrina’s heart.
“My name is Mel,” he said, passing Katrina the bouquet.
“Mel. Welcome to my home,” Katrina said, accepting the flowers.
“This is my beautiful daughter,” Agatha said.
Katrina caught herself before she burst into sobs.
Mel touched Agatha’s elbow and said, “She looks just like you, Aggie.”
It struck Katrina as odd, now, that her father had never called her mother by a nickname. Always, it had been Agatha. Always, it had been formal.
“Make yourself a home,” Agatha said, leading Mel and her mother into the living room. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I don’t drink,” Mel said.
“We have non-alcoholic champagne,” Katrina announced. “Or tea?”
“Tea,” Mel said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“You’ll never catch Mel without a cup of tea,” Agatha said, looking at him as though he carried the sun, moon, and stars in his arms.
At eight, Katrina ushered everyone to the dining room table for the feast. She’d set name cards in front of her mother’s China, pretending to be a “real” wedding planner. She eyed Hilary nervously, knowing that Hilary often rubbed shoulders in spectacular settings. She was invited to exclusive parties. Her boyfriend, Marc, was spending more and more time away from San Francisco—but that didn’t mean he left his judgment out west.
But even Marc and Hilary gushed about the setting.
“This reminds me of that hotel in Berkeley,” Marc said to Hilary, snapping his fingers. “Remember when we went to that party for Sotheby’s?”
“Yes! That’s what I was trying to think of,” Hilary said. “Your design strategy matches theirs, Aunt Katrina.”
“You’re just being nice,” Katrina scolded them.
But even still, her heart swelled with joy. It was marvelous to be recognized for your efforts.
Champagne, non-alcoholic and alcoholic, plus tea for Mel, was poured. And then, Grant stood and said, “I want to make a speech. A brief one. If the bride says that I’m allowed?”
Sophie laughed. “Of course, Daddy.”
“What about the mother of the bride?” Grant winced at Katrina, who laughed even harder than Sophie.
“We know you’re going to do it anyway,” Katrina teased. “Get on with it before the food gets cold.”
Grant raised his champagne glass nervously, eyeing his Coleman family members, Norm, Agatha, and Mel. His gaze finally settled on Sophie. A wave of sorrow passed over his face. Katrina could practically read his mind. She could see it all—their tremendous past together. The fact that Sophie had taken her first steps in the next room. She’d learned to ride a bike in the driveway. How was she forty-two years old? How had they gotten so old?
“Sophie,” Grant began, his voice cracking. “What can I say? I’m over the moon for you. When we first got to know Patrick, your mother and I couldn’t get over the way you looked at one another. We returned to our own memories, remembering what it was like to fall in love with each other all those years ago. What you and Patrick have is real. And it’s sensational.” Grant raised his glass higher. “We wish you all the happiness in the world. And tomorrow, when I walk you down the aisle, I’ll try my best not to cry all over you.”
Everyone at the table shivered with laughter. Katrina reached up to touch Grant’s elbow. Her heart shifted.
“To Sophie and Patrick,” Grant said. There was a sob at the edge of his voice.
“To Sophie and Patrick,” everyone repeated.
As they fell into the gorgeous evening, feasting, refilling glasses, telling stories, and laughing, the spring air wafted in through the cracked windows, invigorating them. The sound of their joy swelled from the house and filled the air over the black water.
Chapter Twenty-Three
