Page 36 of Wisteria Winds
Clara smiled, surprised that indeed she wasn’t panicking. A few months ago, this kind of last-minute complication might have sent her spiraling with anxiety, but now it felt like a problem that just needed to be solved.
“Music always comes with unexpected challenges,” she said. “That’s what makes a live performance so special. We’ll adapt. Musicians know how to do that.”
“Well, you’re just a marvel, Clara Whitman,” Morty said. “I don’t know what we’d do without you. I’m so glad you came to Wisteria Island.”
“Well, you’d probably hire a DJ and call it a day,” she said dryly.
Morty clutched his chest in mock horror. “Blasphemy! This wedding deserves live music of the highest caliber.” He looked at his clipboard. “Now, about the prelude selections…”
A knock at the door interrupted them. Clara opened it to find Eddie holding a large, elegant box tied with a white ribbon.
“This is a delivery for you, Clara. Just arrived on the morning boat.”
She took the box with surprise. “Thanks, Eddie, but I wasn’t expecting anything.”
Eddie departed, and Clara set the box on her coffee table and carefully untied the ribbon. Nestled inside tissue paper was a stunning silk wrap in a shade of deep blue that reminded her of twilight. A small card rested on top.
For our pianist extraordinaire, with gratitude for the music you’ve brought to our lives. —Danielle and Bennett
“Oh my,” Morty said, looking over her shoulder. “That’s exquisite. Italian silk by the look of that. And the color will be perfect with your hair.”
Clara ran her fingers over the luxurious fabric. “It’s beautiful.”
“Well, you should definitely wear it for the ceremony,” Morty said. “It would look very elegant at the piano.”
Clara nodded and carefully re-folded the wrap. She was so happy to have received such a thoughtful gift. It helped her realize that she had a place in this community and that she was making a real contribution to the island itself. She had come to Wisteria Island so broken and alone, looking only for solitude in her grief.
Instead, she’d found connection, purpose, and the slow return of joy. Playing for Danielle and Bennett’s wedding felt like a milestone in her healing journey, a real sign that she was ready to participate fully in life again.
“Well, back to business,” Morty said, looking at his clipboard again. “The quartet will need to be positioned optimally for sound projection. I was thinking here—about the eastern column of the gazebo, but obviously I will defer to your expertise.”
Clara nodded, already visualizing the setup in her mind. “The eastern column would work well, especially with the direction of the breeze at sunset. We’ll need to angle the keyboard slightly so I can see the officiant and the couple.”
“Brilliant, brilliant,” Morty said, scribbling notes. “And we’ll have a few reserved chairs nearby for you and the musicians during the non-performance portions of the ceremony. I thought we could use those ivory cushions with the embroidered details, the ones Dorothy found at that antique market.”
Clara chuckled. “Only you would remember embroidery details on chair cushions in the middle of a potential music emergency.”
“I have layers,” he said, pretending to fluff his imaginary collar. “Now, about postlude selections. Are we leaning romantic or triumphant?”
As Morty continued outlining the logistics of the big day, Clara found herself smiling. All the pre-wedding chaos, the musical challenges, and the countless details still had to be finalized, and all of it felt vibrant and alive, a welcome contrast to the numbing fog that had enveloped her for so many months after her husband’s death.
Robert would have loved this, she thought. He always thrived on the energy of the preparation and the anticipation before an event. He would have approved of her beautiful new wrap, her contribution to Danielle and Bennett’s special day, and most of all, her gradual return to the world of the living.
And for the first time, the thought brought more comfort than pain.
Bennett stood in his office and looked out the window at the flurry of activity going on. The last-minute wedding preparations had taken the normally peaceful island and turned it into a hive of productive energy. It was exciting to see the residents, all of whom were older than 60, enjoying life and being useful. Some of them hadn’t felt that in a very long time.
Morty darted from place to place like a frantic hummingbird with his clipboard in hand. He coordinated everything from chair deliveries to flower arrangements, and Bennett had to say that he was very impressed by just how much energy Morty had. He didn’t realize it until now. Morty was more spry than most 25-year-olds. He decided they would have to surprise Morty and Dorothy with something special after the wedding. Maybe a day-trip to Seagrove for some antiquing.
Dorothy supervised a team that arranged tables at the community center, and her commanding presence made sure everything was positioned with military precision. Bennett often thought she missed her calling as a drill sergeant rather than having been a Hollywood star.
Even the residents who weren’t officially involved in planning had found ways to contribute. Gladys was baking her famous lemon cookies for the welcome baskets for out-of-town guests. Ted and several others were stringing lights along the paths leading to the gazebo. Esther had even taken over the community center kitchen with a small army of volunteers to prepare the rehearsal dinner.
It was exactly what Bennett had envisioned when he created Wisteria Island - a true community where everybody got to contribute their talents and support each other through all of life’s moments.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
“Come on in,” he called, turning from the window.
