I wondered if Jane noticed her children's puzzled scrutiny. If she did, she paid no attention to it. Instead, she regaled Joseph and Leslie with stories about the wedding plans, unable to hide her delight at how well it had come together. Leslie had a hundred questions and nearly swooned over each romantic revelation; Joseph seemed more content to listen in silence. Anna chimed in from time to time, usually in response to a question. She was seated next to me on the couch, and when Jane got up to refill the coffeepot, Anna watched her mother over her shoulder. Then, taking my hand, she leaned toward my ear and whispered simply, "I can't wait for tonight."
The women of the family had appointments at the hair salon at one o'clock and were chatting like schoolgirls on the way out the door. As for me, both John Peterson and Henry MacDonald had called in midmorning, asking if I would be willing to meet them at Noah's. Peterson wanted to check how the piano sounded, while MacDonald wanted to take a look at the kitchen and the rest of the layout to ensure dinner went smoothly. Both men promised to keep the visit short, but I assured them it wasn't a problem. I had to drop something off at the house--something Leslie had left in her trunk--and was heading over anyway.
Just as I was leaving, I heard Joseph enter the living room behind me.
"Hey, Pop. Mind if I come along?"
"Not at all," I said.
Joseph stared out the window and said little on our drive to Noah's. He hadn't been there in years and seemed to be simply soaking up the view as we wound along the treelined roads. While New York City was exciting--and Joseph now regarded it as home--I could sense that he'd forgotten how lovely the low country could be.
Slowing the car, I turned up the drive, then parked in my usual spot. When we got out of the car, Joseph stood for a moment, gazing at the house. It was radiant in the high summer light. Within hours, Anna, Leslie, and Jane would be upstairs, dressing for the wedding. The procession, we'd decided, would begin from the house; staring up at the second-floor windows, I tried and failed to imagine those final moments before the wedding, when all the guests would be seated and waiting.
When I shook myself from my reverie, I saw that Joseph had moved from the car and was heading in the direction of the tent. He walked with hands in his pockets, his gaze roaming over the property. At the entrance to the tent, he stopped and looked back at me, waiting for me to join him.
We wandered silently through the tent and rose garden, then into the house. While Joseph wasn't visibly excited, I could sense that he was as impressed as Leslie and Anna had been. When he completed the tour, he asked a few questions about the mechanics of what had been done--the whos, whats, and hows--but by the time the caterer pulled up the drive, he'd grown silent again.
"So what do you think?" I asked.
He didn't answer right away, but a faint smile tugged at his lips as he surveyed the property. "To be honest," he admitted at last, "I can't believe you pulled it off."
Following his gaze, I flashed on how it had looked only a few days earlier. "It is something, isn't it?" I said absently.
At my answer, Joseph shook his head. "I'm not just talking about all this," he said, gesturing at the surrounding landscape. "I'm talking about Mom." He paused, making sure he had my attention. "Last year, when she came up," he went on, "she was more upset than I'd ever seen her. She was crying when she got off the plane. Did you know that?"
My expression answered for me.
He pushed his hands into his pockets and looked down at the ground, refusing to meet my eyes. "She said she didn't want you to see her that way, so she'd tried to hold herself together. But on the flight . . . I guess it finally got the best of her." He hesitated. "I mean, here I was, standing in the airport waiting to pick up my mom, and she walks off the plane looking like someone who'd just come from a funeral. I know I deal with grief every day at my job, but when it's your own mom . . ."
He trailed off, and I knew enough to say nothing.
"She kept me awake until after midnight the first night she was there. Just kept rambling and crying about what was going on between you two. And I'll admit that I was angry with you. Not just for forgetting the anniversary, but for everything. It's like you always viewed our family as a convenience that other people expected you to maintain, but you never wanted to do the work required. Finally, I told her that if she was still unhappy after so many years, she might be better off alone."
I didn't know what to say.
"She's a great lady, Pop," he said, "and I was tired of seeing her hurt. And over the next few days, she recovered--a bit, anyway. But she was still dreading the thought of going back home. She'd get this real sad expression whenever it came up, so finally I asked her to stay in New York with me. For a while there, I thought she was going to take me up on it, but in the end, she said she couldn't. She said that you needed her."
My throat constricted.
"When you told me what you wanted to do for your anniversary, my first thought was that I didn't want anything to do with it. I wasn't even looking forward to coming down this weekend. But last night . . ." He shook his head and sighed. "You should have heard her when you left to take Noah home. She couldn't stop talking about you. She went on and on about how great you've been and how well you've both been getting along lately. And then, seeing the way you two kissed on the deck . . ."
He faced me with an expression bordering on disbelief and seemed to be seeing me for the first time. "You did it, Pop. I don't know how, but you did it. I don't think I've ever seen her happier."
Peterson and MacDonald were right on time, and as promised, they didn't stay long. I stored the item that had been in Leslie's trunk upstairs, and on our way home, Joseph and I stopped by the rental shop to pick up two tuxedos--one for him, the second for Noah. I dropped Joseph off at the house before heading to Creekside, since he had an errand to run before the ceremony.
Noah was sitting in the chair as the late afternoon sun streamed through the window, and when he turned to greet me, I knew immediately that the swan hadn't returned. I paused in the doorway.
"Hello, Noah," I said.
"Hello, Wilson," he whispered. He looked drawn, as if the lines in his face had grown deeper overnight.
"You doing okay?"
"Could be better," he said. "Could be worse, though, too."
He forced a smile as if to reassure me.
"Are you ready to go?"
"Yeah," He nodded. "I'm ready."
On the drive, he didn't mention the swan. Instead, he stared out the window as Joseph had, and I left him alone with his thoughts. Nonetheless, my anticipation grew as we neared the house. I couldn't wait for him to see what we'd done, and I suppose I expected Noah to be as dazzled as everyone else had been.
Strangely, however, he showed no reaction when he got out of the car. Looking around, he finally offered the faintest of shrugs. "I thought you said you had the place fixed up," he said.
I blinked, wondering if I'd heard him right.
"I did."
"Where?"
"Everywhere," I said. "Come on--let me show you the garden."
He shook his head. "I can see it fine from here. It looks like it always did."
"Now, maybe, but you should have seen it last week," I said almost defensively. "It was completely overgrown. And the house . . ."
He cut me off with a mischievous grin.
"Gotcha," he said with a wink. "Now come on--let's see what you've done."
We toured the property and house before retiring to the porch swing. We had an hour to ourselves before we had to put on our tuxedos. Joseph was dressed by the time he arrived, and he was followed a few minutes later by Anna, Leslie, and Jane, who'd come straight from the salon. The girls were giddy as they got out of the car. Walking ahead of Jane, they quickly vanished upstairs, their dresses folded over their arms.
Jane paused before me, her eyes twinkling as she watched them go.
"Now remember," she said, "Keith's not supposed to see Anna beforehand
, so don't let him go up."
"I won't," I promised.
"In fact, don't let anyone up. It's supposed to be a surprise."
I held up two fingers. "I'll guard the stairs with my life," I said.
"That goes for you, too."
"I figured."
She glanced toward the empty stairs. "Are you getting nervous yet?"
"A little."