A Merry Vested Wedding - Melanie Moreland Page 0,9

he was by far.

“You haven’t upset me, Dad. I like knowing how much you love me.”

“I do.”

I winked. “That’s my line today.”

He laughed. “So it is.” He slid a box my way. “For you, my girl.”

I opened the slim box, unable to hide my tears. A delicate bracelet lay on the satin, the white gold shimmering in the low light. A small heart embraced a pearl, creamy pink and pale. The tiniest of diamonds highlighted the curve of the heart. I knew that pearl. It was one that belonged to my grandmother—one of the few precious items my dad had of hers. Its mates were worn around my mother’s neck—she rarely took off the necklace. As a child, I was fascinated with them. The smooth texture, the pretty color, the way they glimmered in the light. My mother let me touch them, quietly telling me how precious they were and that I had to be careful. I would trace them with the greatest of reverence. When I was older and knew the story behind them, my love for them, and my father, only grew.

“Dad,” I breathed.

“Your mom thought you should have one of the pearls. We redesigned her necklace and had this made. We know you prefer bracelets to necklaces.” He leaned over and helped me put it on.

“I’ll never take it off.”

He smiled. “It’s your something old for today, Addi. Besides me walking you down the aisle.”

I laughed as I wiped away my tears.

“Thank you.”

He leaned close and pressed his lips to my cheek.

“Love you, baby girl.”

My breath caught. “I love you, Daddy.”

He winked. “I know.”

The sounds of laughter and gaiety filled the room. I looked in the mirror at the cluster of women around me, smiling as I took a sip of champagne. I met my sister’s eyes in the reflection, and she winked, knowing what I was thinking.

How incredibly lucky we were to be surrounded by these amazing women.

The winery had been designed to accommodate weddings and other events. I discovered it one day while out with Gracie. The wine was superb, but the land underutilized, the main building crumbling, and the business dying. ABC purchased it, kept the people who knew about wine, and demolished and rebuilt the rest. When I saw the designs, I knew it was where I wanted to get married, and we had, in fact, deferred our wedding until it was ready. The room I was in was on the top floor, facing the water, the wide sweep of windows showing the waves as they danced in the afternoon sun, the scattering of snowflakes delicate and beautiful amid the wildness of the water.

My mom sat on the sofa, a glass of wine in her hand, her golden hair catching the light. She was laughing at something Cami said, her head thrown back in amusement. She was a tiny dynamo, the center of my father’s world, the rock for my siblings and me. She was always there, a constant in my life, my father by her side. Every school event, outside activity, achievement, victory, punishment—they handled together—for my siblings and me. They were hands-on, dedicated, loving parents. I knew we were wealthy, but we weren’t spoiled. We earned our allowance, followed the rules, and acted like kids. My mother often joined in on the antics and dragged my father with her.

There was no doubt who the free spirit in the relationship was.

She was sitting with Cami and Dee, Becca, Liv, Fee, Katy, and of course, my Nan, Sandy. A close-knit group of women, strong, fierce, and the role models I tried to live up to. All were special, all a significant part of my life. Aunts in name only, they were as close to me as if joined by blood. So were their offspring.

Flitting around the room were my attendants. Shelby, Brayden’s sister; Ava, Aiden’s daughter; and Heather, Richard’s younger daughter, were checking on gowns, chatting, helping one another with their hair. We didn’t want stylists or makeup artists with us today. It was all about family, so we were spending the hours before my wedding together. The only one missing was Grace, Richard’s eldest daughter and my best friend.

I frowned at my sister. “Chloe, where is Gracie? She should be here by now.”

Chloe shrugged, glancing over her shoulder. “Hey, Hedda,” she called, using an old nickname, “Where is your sister?”

Heather picked up her phone. “She’s en route.”

Katy VanRyan, her mom, frowned. “She’s cutting it close. That’s not like Gracie.”

Heather poured some more