Page 45 of Wisteria Winds
“Oh, and I need to consult with Cecilia about the processional timing,” Morty said. “Oh, and I almost forgot.” He reached into an inner pocket of his suit and produced a small envelope. “Bennett asked me to give you this.”
Clara took it curiously, opening it after Morty walked away. Inside was a simple note written in Bennett’s precise handwriting.
Dear Clara,
I want to thank you for sharing your gift of music with us today. It’s going to make our ceremony complete, and your friendship has meant more to Danielle and me than we can express. The gazebo will remain on Wisteria Island long after today’s celebration, and it will be a permanent addition to the lives of the residents on the island. We’ve decided to name it Whitman Gazebo in honor of you and Robert. May it be a place where music and memory continue to bring joy to our community for years to come.
With our deepest gratitude,
Bennett
Clara sat perfectly still, the note trembling slightly in her hand. This unexpected tribute to her husband, to both of them, touched her deeply. That their names would forever be linked to a place that had such beauty and meaning felt like the perfect memorial. For so long after his death, Clara had focused on what was lost. Coming to Wisteria Island, she had slowly and painfully started to realize what remained. The music they had shared, the love that continued in his absence, and the ability to form new connections while honoring what had come before.
The Whitman Gazebo, a place of music and memory, of celebration and quiet contemplation. Robert would have loved it.
With renewed purpose, Clara gathered her musical papers and headed out to meet the quartet. Today was a day for joy and new beginnings.
Danielle stood in her bedroom and watched as Dorothy carefully arranged the delicate flowers in her hair. Her beautiful wedding dress hung perfectly against her skin, its simple elegance exactly what she had envisioned for herself.
“Hold still, darling,” Dorothy instructed, putting in another flower with a pearl-tipped pin. “You know, beauty requires lots of patience.”
“And a steady hand,” Morty added, as he hovered nearby with his emergency sewing kit. “Thankfully, Dorothy possesses that in abundance. Unlike some people I could mention,” he looked at himself in the reflection of the mirror, where his lavender bow tie sat slightly askew, despite multiple attempts to straighten it.
“Has anybody checked in on my mother this morning?” Danielle asked. The memory of her episode remained vivid in her mind.
“I brought her breakfast myself,” Morty said. “She’s already dressed in her stunning rose ensemble and looks remarkably well-rested. She even asked me to tell you that she’s taking her medication like a model patient.”
“Her color was much improved,” Dorothy added, “and she wasn’t even trying to micromanage the floral arrangements when I stopped by, which I consider a miracle in and of itself.”
Danielle smiled, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders. “Thank you both so much. I couldn’t help worrying after yesterday.”
“Well, that’s perfectly understandable,” Dorothy said as she secured the final flower. “But today is for joy, not worry. Your mother’s a strong woman. A little high blood pressure isn’t going to keep her from her only daughter’s wedding.”
Morty walked over with a small velvet box. “Speaking of your mother, she asked me to bring this to you and said you’d know what it was.”
Danielle opened the box to find the gold locket, the one that had belonged to her grandmother, that her own mother had worn on her wedding day. A note tucked inside read simply, For the newest bride in our family. Your father would be so proud. Love, Mom.
“Oh,” Danielle breathed, feeling tears threatening to spill over and ruin her newly applied makeup.
“None of that!” Morty yelled, gently taking the locket and fastening it around her neck. “We’ve spent far too long on your makeup for tears, my dear.”
Dorothy handed her a tissue. “Blot, don’t wipe,” she instructed. “And maybe this is a moment for some traditional wedding day wisdom.”
“From the woman who’s been married four times?” Morty teased.
Dorothy gave him a look. “Which makes me an expert. I’ve learned what works and what doesn’t.”
Danielle laughed. “I’ll take wisdom from wherever it comes today.”
Dorothy took her hands, suddenly serious. “Marriage is a dance, darling. Sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow. But you must always remain in step with each other. Bennett is a wonderful man who adores you. But even good men need guidance occasionally.”
“And patience,” Morty added. He turned to Danielle. “You know, the best advice I can give you, my dear, is to simply remember why you fell in love with Bennett in the first place. In the day-to-day of your marriage, it’ll be easy to forget the magic of all these early moments. But keep them close to your heart, especially when you have disagreements about which way the toilet paper should hang.”
“Well, it’s over the top, obviously,” Dorothy said.
“Under is clearly superior for decorative folding purposes,” Morty said.
Danielle laughed. “So this is your sage marriage advice? Toilet paper orientation?”
