The Perfect Hope

EPILOGUE

ON A BLOOMING EVENING IN SPRING, AVERY TWISTED HER gumball-machine ring while Clare and Hope fastened her wedding gown.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Of course not,” Hope said.

“Okay, a little, but just because I want to look really good.”

“Believe me, you do. Turn around and look,” Clare ordered.

In the bedroom of The Penthouse, Avery turned toward the big mirror. “Oh, I do. I really do look good.”

“Gorgeous is what you look,” Hope corrected. “Avery, you’re gorgeous. The dress is stunning. I shouldn’t have doubted your online acumen.”

“It just right.” Delighted with herself, Avery turned a circle so the sparkling skirt flowed with her. “It’s me.”

“You’re glowing like a candle.” Clare touched Avery’s bright hair. “A flame.”

“Champagne! Quick! Before I tear up and ruin the makeup Hope worked so hard on.”

“For the bride, and the attendants.” Hope poured. “And even for the nursing mother.”

“The twins can handle it. Luke and Logan are tough.”

“Look at us. The wife, the bride, and the bride-to-be.” Avery lifted a glass, toasted them all. “Your turn in September,” she said to Hope.

“It can’t come soon enough. Which is crazy to say since I have so much left to do. But today’s yours, and I can promise you everything is exactly and wonderfully perfect.”

“It couldn’t be otherwise. I’m marrying my boyfriend, with my two best friends beside me, my dad, the woman who’s been my mom since I was a kid, my brothers. And I’m doing it in the most beautiful place I know.”

“I’m going to text the photographer, have him come up. We’re on a schedule,” Hope reminded her.

She checked everything. The flowers, the food, the table displays. Candles, linens. Stopped long enough to help Beckett pass the chubby-cheeked twins and their three brothers to Clare’s mother and Carolee. To adjust Ryder’s tie, as an excuse to nuzzle his neck.

“Why don’t we just do it now?” he asked her. “We’re all dressed up, got a preacher coming.”

“September.” She lingered over a kiss. “It’ll be worth the wait.”

Exactly on time, she rounded up Willy B.

“Thank God.” Justine patted his cheek. “He’s nervous as a bride himself.”

“It’s my girl.”

“I know it, honey. You go on and get her now.”

Hope waited, fetched tissues when Willy B’s eyes welled up, and gave Avery’s makeup a final touch-up.

“What’re you mumbling about?” she asked Clare.

“I’m praying. That I don’t hear the babies cry, because if I do my milk might start up.”

“Oh my God. I should’ve thought of earplugs.” But laughing, she grabbed Clare’s hand to hurry to the door.

Avery wanted an entrance, so they’d descend the stairs to The Courtyard where the guests sat, and Owen waited with his brothers.

All so handsome, she thought. All so right. In a few months she’d walk down these same steps to Ryder.

She glanced across the lot, over the white tent where Fit In Boons-Boro stood prettily in its soft blue coat, its silver trim.

She was happy to have it there, and a little sorry not to have Ryder right in back of the inn every day.

She wondered what Justine would think of next, and was grateful she’d be able to watch it evolve.

Then she squeezed Clare’s hand. “Look.”

On the porch facing the flower-decked arbor, Lizzy stood with her Billy.

“They’re still here,” Clare said quietly. “It always surprises me.”

“They’re happy here. For now anyway. It’s their home.”

And hers, she thought. Her town, her place, her home. In it she’d build a life with the man she loved.

She glanced back, blew a kiss to the bride, then walked down the steps toward the promise.