Page 41 of The Fiancée Farce
She turned onto Evergreen Point Road and then pulled up to the drive, pausing at the guard booth. The security guard was new. New to her, at least. She rolled down the window and smiled. “Hi”—she glanced at his name badge—“Mark. How are you this evening?”
“ID and invitation, please.”
“I’m Gemma. I’m one of the brides.”
“ID and invitation, please,” he repeated.
Yeesh. Victor had certainly cracked down on security. It had never been like this when her grandfather lived here. She’d always been waved through the gate, security recognizing her car. “Tansy, could you grab me the invitation from the glove box?”
Gemma snagged her wallet, wiggling her license from the little plastic pouch and passing both her ID and her invite to the guard, who studied both, flashing a light against her license, checking for the holographic seal. He handed them back to her. “Your passenger’s, please.”
Tansy’s hands shook as she dug around inside her purse. “I’m getting shades of TSA.”
Gemma snorted. “Careful,” she whispered, waggling her brows. “Mark here might decide to give you a pat down.”
“I’m serious. This is all very by the book. It’s stressing me out.”
“Breathe.” Gemma took Tansy’s ID and invite from the guard. “Thanks, Mark. Have a fantastic night.” She gave them back to Tansy with a smile. “The open bar awaits.”
The big, black wrought iron gates opened, allowing Gemma through. She drove slowly up the winding drive, passing a van at the bend—catering, most likely.
Tansy leaned forward, taking it all in. “You grew up here?”
“No. I grew up in Laurelhurst. This house belonged to my grandfather.”
Constructed in 1922 by Wilhelm van Dalen, her late great-grandfather, the Van Dalen family estate was one of the first homes built in Medina. Located on five acres of waterfront property, the estate had been home to three generations of Van Dalens. Four, now that her father had sold the house in Laurelhurst and moved back in with his two sons, Gemma’s ten-year-old half brothers, twins Ian and Isaac.
“But don’t worry.” Gemma pulled into the U-shaped drive directly in front of the house, letting the engine idle. “I know my way around.”
Gemma fished around in the back footwell for her Louboutins, slipping them on and stepping out of the car, careful not to closeher dress in the door. She tossed her keys to the valet, who handed her a ticket before opening Tansy’s door.
Tansy stepped out, head swiveling left and right, taking in the sprawling, ivy-covered, three-story brick-front mansion with its three visible garages.
Around the back, visible from the drive but just barely, was a stone walkway. To the left, it led to the stables; to the right, down to the Blue House, an aptly named guesthouse, each room of the interior painted a different shade of blue. If you followed the walk farther, you’d wind up at the infinity edge pool overlooking Lake Washington. Only a stone’s throw away was the pool house, a three-hundred-square-foot cottage, nautical in design. Eventually, the walkway led down to a private dock with a private beach and unfettered lake access.
“This place is—”
“Too big for twenty people, let alone the three who call it home? I know, right?” Gemma held out her hand for Tansy to take. “Come on. I’m freezing my tits off. Let’s get inside.”
Tansy rested her fingers in the palm of Gemma’s hand. “Maybe you should’ve worn a jacket.”
“With this dress?” She laughed. “As if.”
The invitation had saidblack tie optional, so Gemma had chosen to wear one of her favorite dresses, a pink ombre organza and silk tulle gown that didn’t skimp on the drama.
In the cherry-wood-paneled foyer, Tansy dropped Gemma’s hand so that she could unbutton her trench and hand it over to the butler waiting by the door.
“A boatneck?” Gemma smirked. “Scandalous.”
Tansy wore a soft pink 1950s swing skirt dress, a perfect color match to the palest shade at the top of Gemma’s dress. A happy accident.
Tansy lifted a hand, fingers tracing her neckline self-consciously. “It’s not too much, is it?”
“I like it,” Gemma clarified, eyes dancing over Tansy’s exposed shoulders, gaze caressing her delicate collarbone. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly bone-dry. “I told you that you have nice shoulders.”
“Why do you think I wore this?” Tansy said, a smile flirting at the edges of her lips.
Well, well, well. As if that wasn’t enough to take Gemma by surprise, as soon as Tansy’s coat was gone, she held out her hand for Gemma once more. Gemma laced their fingers together, her thumb stroking the back of Tansy’s hand. It was an unconscious gesture, something she didn’t realize she was doing until Tansy shivered and sidled a little closer. Whether it was meant to comfort Tansy or was meant more for self-soothing, Gemma couldn’t be sure.
