Abby didn’t answer for a moment. She was busy arranging a plant in the basket of a rusty bicycle resting against one wall so the greenery spilled over the top, almost to the front tire. Melissa had no idea how she’d managed it but somehow Abby had hung wooden lattice from her ceiling to form a faux pergola over her dining table. Grapevines, fairy lights and more greenery had been woven through the lattice and, at various intervals, candles hung in colored jars like something out of a Tuscan vineyard.
Adorning the walls were framed posters of Venice and the beautiful and calming Lake Como.
“It feels like a month,” Abby finally answered, “but actually, I only started last week. Greg helped me hang the lattice. I couldn’t have done it without him.”
The affection in her sister’s voice caused a funny little twinge inside Melissa. Abby and her husband had one of those perfect relationships. They clearly adored each other, no matter what.
She wished she could say the same thing about Josh. After a year of dating, shouldn’t she have a little more confidence in their relationship? If someone had asked her a month ago if she thought her boyfriend loved her, she would have been able to answer with complete assurance in the affirmative, but for the past few weeks something had changed. He’d been acting so oddly—dodging phone calls, canceling plans, avoiding her questions.
He seemed to be slipping away more every day. As melodramatic as it sounded, she didn’t know how she would survive if he decided to break things off.
Breathe, she reminded herself. She didn’t want to ruin the anniversary dinner by worrying about Josh. For now, she really needed to focus on her wonderful parents and how very much they deserved this celebration she and Abby had been planning for a long time.
“You and Greg have really outdone yourself. I love all the little details. The old wine bottles, the flowers. Just beautiful. I know Mom and Dad will be thrilled with your hard work.” She paused. “I can only see one little problem.”
Abby looked vaguely panicked. “What? What’s missing?”
Melissa shook her head ruefully. “Nothing. That’s the problem. I was supposed to be helping you. That’s why I’m here early, right? Have you left anything for me to do?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve still got a million things to do. The chicken cacciatore is just about ready to go into the oven. Why don’t you help me set the table?”
“Sure,” she said, following her sister into the kitchen.
“You talked to Louise, right?” Abby asked.
“Yes. She had everything ready when I stopped at her office on my way over here. I’ve got a huge gift basket in the car. You should see it. She really went all out. Biscotti, gourmet cappuccino mix, even a bottle of prosecco.”
“What about the tickets and the itinerary?” Abby had that panicked look again.
“Relax, Abs. It’s all there. She’s been amazing. I think she just might be as scarily organized as you are.”
Abby made a face. “Did you have a chance to go over the details?”
“She printed everything out and included a copy for us, as well as Mom and Dad. In addition to the plane tickets and the hotel information and the other goodies, she sent over pamphlets, maps, even an Italian-English dictionary and a couple of guidebooks.”
“Perfect! They’re going to be so surprised.”
“Surprised and happy, I hope,” Melissa answered, loading her arms with the deep red chargers and honey-gold plates her sister indicated, which perfectly matched the theme for the evening.
“How could they be anything else? They finally have the chance to enjoy the perfect honeymoon they missed out on the first time.” Abby smiled, looking more than a little starry-eyed. Despite being married for several years, her sister was a true romantic.
“This has to be better than the original,” she said. “The bar was set pretty low thirty years ago, judging by all the stories they’ve told us over the years. Missed trains, lousy hotels, disappearing luggage.”
“Don’t forget the pickpocket that stole their cash and passports.”
Melissa had to smile. Though their parents’ stories always made their honeymoon thirty years ago sound dismal, Frank and Diane always laughed when they shared them, as if they had viewed the whole thing as a huge adventure.
She wanted that. She wanted to share that kind of joy and laughter and tears with Josh. The adventure that was life.
Her smile faded, replaced by that ache of sadness that always seemed so close these days. Oh, Josh. She reached into the silverware drawer, avoiding her sister’s gaze.
“Okay. What’s wrong?” Abby asked anyway.
She forced a smile. “Nothing. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”
“Late night with Josh?” her sister teased.
Before she could stop them, tears welled up and spilled over. She blinked them back but not before her sharp-eyed sister caught them.