Page 35 of Wisteria Winds
They climbed the three wide steps and entered the octagonal space. The cedar flooring gleamed beneath their feet, and the interior of the dome had been finished with a pale blue.
“It’s like standing inside of a seashell,” she said, turning around to take in the 360-degree view. “I just can’t believe how beautiful this is.”
“And this is where we’ll stand,” Bennett said, guiding her to the center of the space, positioning them to face the ocean view. “Right here. This is where we’ll say our vows.”
She could picture it clearly— all of their friends gathered around, Clara’s music playing, the sunset sky creating the perfect backdrop as they committed the rest of their lives to each other.
“One more week,” she said softly. “Just one more week.”
Bennett wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on top of her head. “The longest week of my life,” he said.
Danielle laughed. “Are you impatient, Mr. Alexander?”
“To make you my wife? Absolutely.”
They stood together as the last light faded from the sky, and the stars emerged one by one above them. Danielle could hear the gentle sound of waves breaking against the shore below.
“I have something to tell you, too,” she said after a while, turning in his arms to face him. “I picked up my wedding dress today.”
His eyes lit up with interest. “And?”
“Oh, and you don’t get to see it until next Saturday,” she said, teasing. “But I will tell you that Clara approves, and I think she has pretty excellent taste.”
“Well, if you’re wearing it, I know it’s already perfect,” Bennett said, brushing a strand from her face. “You could wear one of Morty’s flamingo shirts and still be the most beautiful bride in history.”
Danielle laughed. “Don’t you give him any ideas. He’s already lobbying to add, ‘just a touch of sequins’ to these gazebo columns.”
“Over my dead body,” Bennett said, making her laugh harder.
As their laughter faded, they naturally moved into a slow dance, swaying together in the middle of the gazebo with no music, just the sound of the ocean breeze and distant waves. She rested her cheek against Bennett’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.
This was home, she realized. Not just Wisteria Island. Not just her cottage or this beautiful gazebo. But here, in Bennett’s arms, where she belonged.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Thank you for building this. And I don’t just mean the gazebo, but everything. This community, this life we share.”
He tightened his arms around her. “Thank you for staying. For seeing what this place could be, and what we could be - together.”
They continued their silent dance beneath a star-filled sky, and Danielle felt a sense of rightness wash over her. She knew that no matter what happened from here on out, she and Bennett would face everything together, supported by the remarkable family they’d built on Wisteria Island.
One week couldn’t come soon enough.
The island was buzzing with pre-wedding activity. There were only three days to go before the wedding, and residents had thrown themselves into full preparation mode. Janice and her self-appointed flower committee were creating arrangements for the rehearsal dinner, while Ted and Frank had volunteered to set up chairs at the gazebo. Even Dorothy had rolled up her sleeves. Of course, that was metaphorically speaking—she wouldn’t be caught dead without her signature silk blouses—but she was overseeing the transformation of the community center for the reception.
In the middle of the chaos, Morty paced anxiously outside Clara’s cottage, his trusty clipboard in hand, muttering to himself. When Clara opened the door, he practically fell inside.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re home. We have a situation,” he said, throwing his free hand up in the air.
Clara, who had grown accustomed to Morty’s “situations” over the past weeks, calmly pointed for him to sit. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s happened.”
“It’s the string quartet,” he moaned. “The cellist broke her wrist in a bicycle accident yesterday. Ran over a turtle. Isn’t that sad? Anyway, they found a replacement, but he hasn’t rehearsed any of our arrangements. And apparently he reads music ‘adequately at best,’ according to the first violinist.”
Clara tried to process all of the information Morty had spit out like a high-powered water hose. “That is challenging, but not insurmountable. When will they arrive on the island?”
“Tomorrow afternoon for the rehearsal.”
“Perfect. I’ll work with the new cellist separately before the full rehearsal. I’m sure we can simplify the part if necessary.”
Morty looked at her with admiration. “You’re not panicking? Why aren’t you panicking? I’m panicking enough for both of us.”
