Page 13 of Just Joshing
"I know."
It was an unwritten law that I’d be married at the winery. It had been in my mothers’ family since the mid-1800s. It was one of the oldest wineries in North America. My parents had been married there. My maternal grandparents had been married there. My great-grandparents, who had purchased the land, had been married there. Every maternal ancestor I had had been married there. It was an institution.
It was mine.
"They can’t." I wheezed, feeling my chest constrict. I pressed a hand to my sternum, forcing myself to breath.
"I’ve already told G and T to decline." Josh reached out, squeezing my hand. "They’ll have the wedding elsewhere."
George and Thomas, my twin older brothers, were fondly known in our family as G and T. Like I said, my dad enjoyed liquor. Joe and Tom, as they went by, managed our alcohol businesses. They split their time between the six wineries’, three breweries’ and eight distilleries owned across eight states. We had a mix of boutique and mass-market choices, all of which my brothers oversaw. Hendrix, or Archer as we called him, oversaw the rest of the family investments with Dad. Mum had brought the alcohol to the family, Dad the transportation and real estate ventures. Together, they were a powerhouse couple and had passed that legacy onto us.
Still in shock, I’d gotten lost in thought loops that had no pattern or reason. I was little Bo-Peep who’d lost her damn mind.
"Deep breath," Josh’s words brushed at the edge of my panic. "I’ve got your back."
I sucked in air as the sales assistant popped champagne, handing out tall flutes to the gathering.
I took one, but didn’t sip. Instead, I concentrated on internalizing my feelings, ensuring I didn’t ruin this for Bess.
Josh rubbed small circles on the back of my hand, his body heat reassuringly warm and solid beside me.
"What do you think, Molly?" Bess interrupted my freak-out. She held up an ivory gown against her body. Her red hair, worn down and softly curled, fell against the sleeve. "Will Pete like it?"
I studied the dress, then nodded. "I think he’ll love anything you wear. But the ivory looks wonderful against your skin tone."
She made a noise in the back of her throat, her lips pinching together. "Not the color. The cut!"
"Oh," I hesitated frowning. "I thought you wanted a big dress."
She sighed, rolling her eyes and turning back to the mirror. "It’s a country wedding. I want lace and silk, something sleek."
I hesitated for a moment before I threw caution to the wind. "I didn’t realize you’d decided on a venue."
In the mirror, her lips thinned, a slight flush marring her cheeks as she studied the dress. "The venue isn’t finalized yet, but I expect to hear from them this afternoon."
Josh squeezed my hand.
"Yes, I’ll try this one and the other two in this style." Bess handed it off to the sales assistant who nodded and moved to hang the gown in the dressing room. She turned back to me.
"I look forward to hearing all about it." I rose from the couch, Josh’s hand slipping free of mine. "I still think you should try the ballgown. At least be sure you don’t want it." I pulled the one I’d admired earlier from the rack and moved to her side, holding it in front of her. "I like this one."
Her lips eased from their pucker and her eyes traced the sweetheart neckline down the intricately embroidered bodice to the yards of tiered ruffles. She jerked her head towards the dressing room. "Oh, go on then."
I hid a smile, moving to hang it in the room. Bess and the assistant disappeared, the door shutting behind them.
I made my way around the room, engaging in meaningless small talk with the chatty bridesmaids. I knew most from school or college or various events. The majority were married socialites living off their trust funds. Only myself and Candy Jenkins worked.
Dr. Candy Jenkins was a bombshell of a woman. Smart, gorgeous, she was related to Bess through a second cousin or so I'd been told. Either way, we knew each other in passing and I found her a fascinating contradiction. She owned her own Veterinary practice in Hudson Valley, treating everything from cows to goldfish. She had a frivolous name but a no-nonsense attitude. I was simultaneously crushing on her, and overtly intimidated.
"Dr. Jenkins," I greeted, tipping my glass towards her in greeting. "Nice to see you again."
She shuffled, looking uncomfortable in the swarm of women "I have an afternoon appointment." She reached for my champagne, diverging me of the glass and immediately chugging it down.
I grinned, "but not one you have to be sober for?"
She shuddered, her nose wrinkling at the taste. "I despise bubbles. And no. Not this appointment. Drunk or at least tipsy would be preferable actually."
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask further questions, but she ploughed forward, changing the subject and asking me about my latest charity.
