Page 3 of Wisteria Winds
“Good evening, Morty. I saw your lights on and thought I’d drop by for a bit. Good lord, what’s got you all worked up? I could hear you talking to yourself from the sidewalk.”
Morty pulled her inside, unable to contain his excitement. “I’m planning Danielle and Bennett’s wedding. It’s going to be spectacular. Beach ceremony at sunset, reception under the stars, I might even create a dance floor right there on the sand—but don’t tell them, they don’t know anything about it.”
Janice’s eyes lit up. “Oh, a wedding, how wonderful. You know, I used to be a florist before I retired. I made arrangements for more than a hundred weddings back in my day.”
“You did? Oh, Janice, then you have to help me. I was thinking about using local wildflowers with touches of wisteria, but I’m not sure about the logistics of that.”
He trailed off, and then the two friends huddled over Morty’s laptop, discussing boutonnieres and table centerpieces. He needed all the help he could get, but he didn’t want Danielle and Bennett to know anything about his plans.
After a bit, Janice had to leave to go to square dance practice, and Morty got back to it.
He continued to plan and pin things as his heart swelled with joy and excitement. The wedding was weeks away at least, but he knew that with a little creativity and a lot of love—and maybe a few sequins, because honestly, why not?—it would be a day that none of them would ever forget.
As the sun began to set over Wisteria Island, he looked out over the beach and thought about the wedding day filled with joy, laughter, tears, and probably more than a few unexpected twists and turns. But the one thing that he was certain of - that on their little island, love and friendship would always find a way to shine through.
Bennett stood on the deck of his cottage, watching as the sunrise painted the sky in beautiful shades of pink and orange. The waves lapped at the shore, as they always did, providing a soothing soundtrack to his morning coffee ritual.
He couldn’t help but smile as he thought about his recent engagement to Danielle.
“Engaged,” he whispered to himself, still hardly believing it.
He had assumed he might be a lifelong bachelor after so many years of not finding the right person to spend his life with, but Danielle was definitely that person. After all, her name was Miss Wright. Every time he thought about it, it made him laugh.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. Naomi’s name flashed across the screen.
“Good morning, Naomi. You’re up bright and early.”
“Good morning,” she said. “I just wanted to confirm that you’re still available for that budget meeting at nine. Oh, and I’ve also scheduled some interviews with three potential temporary nurses for next week. You know Danielle’s going to need coverage during your honeymoon, so I assume you still plan on whisking her away to parts unknown?”
He laughed. “Yes, to all of the above, although I’m starting to think I should just close the island for two weeks and take everybody on a vacation.”
“Well, that would certainly be easier than finding someone willing to step into Danielle’s very hard-to-fill shoes, even temporarily,” Naomi said. “Oh, also, Morty has requested a - and I quote - urgent meeting with you about wedding plans. Those were his words, not mine, but he seemed very enthusiastic.”
Bennett groaned. “I can’t remember a time Morty wasn’t enthusiastic. Tell him I’ll stop by his place after the budget meeting.”
After ending the call, Bennett took another sip of his coffee and let his mind wander to thoughts of Clara Whitman, the island’s newest resident. It always surprised him how much he cared about everyone living on the island. The moment they moved there, they became like family. He worried over them like they were his kids—or more like it, his grandparents.
Danielle had texted him last night after spending hours with the grieving widow. She was clearly struggling, so Bennett made a mental note to check on her himself later in the day.
One of the things he loved most about Danielle was her immense compassion. Where others might have just seen a sad woman, she saw her pain—saw someone who needed support, someone to sit with her and listen. Danielle offered the residents so much more than just medical treatment. She offered friendship. She offered a listening ear, and the same compassion had won over even the most stubborn residents of Wisteria Island, like Dorothy and Ted.
Bennett finished his coffee and then headed inside to prepare for the day. He couldn’t help but keep a smile on his face as he got dressed and tidied up the cottage before leaving.
Today would be just another day on Wisteria Island, but in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help looking forward to the day he would stand before an officiant and marry the love of his life.
CHAPTER 2
Clara Whitman sat at her weathered kitchen table, looking at the unpacked boxes stacked against the wall. After thirty-six years of marriage, she had certainly accumulated a lifetime of memories, but they were all now condensed into sad cardboard containers labeled with her husband’s neat handwriting.
“Kitchen – Fragile,” one box read.
Her Robert had always been so organized, so methodical. He would have had this cottage unpacked and arranged in less than a day, but she’d been here for nearly a week and had barely even managed to unpack her clothes. She just couldn’t seem to force herself to do it.
She reached for the framed photograph beside her - a picture of her beloved Robert conducting the symphony orchestra, his face full of passion, his arms raised up in mid-gesture. That’s how she always wanted to remember him: as this person who was so vibrant and alive, not as she’d seen him in the final days of his life, so withered and weak from cancer that claimed him far too soon.
They had met a little later in their lives and never had children—something that bothered Clara even today. Oh, how she wished she had a big family. How she wished she had kids and grandkids and was simply waiting for great-grandkids. She wished she lived on some big property somewhere where all her kids and grandkids would gather around her and have big Sunday dinners. She sometimes dreamed of sitting on her front porch on some big piece of land, watching one of her grandkids run toward her with arms open wide.
But now she lived on a tiny island with a bunch of other people who either didn’t have families that wanted them around or just needed a place to go in their older years that didn’t reek of lemon-scented cleaner and sadness.
