sometimes still treated her as if she couldn’t wipe her own nose.
“Ivy, this is Noah Thornton. He has a true artistic eye, don’t you think?” The older woman swept her hand wide, indicating the vast grounds surrounding Reeves House, the lovely old stone mansion the bride’s parents had rented for the wedding. Ivy hoped to explore more of the grounds later during the reception. Right now, she resented having her few minutes of respite from all the gushy wedding talk stolen by another of her aunt’s antics.
It didn’t help her mood any when the dark-eyed man standing two feet in front of her smirked as he nodded a greeting. Glints of amusement sparked from his warm brown eyes as his gaze swept down her figure before returning to her face.
“Noah, this is my niece, Ivy. She has the shop I told you about, ‘Wall’s Intrigue’ in Brookside. Seems to me you two have a lot in common. You in landscaping and she in interior design.” Aunt Arletta, dressed in a burnt orange fall suit that complemented her snowy hair, grasped Ivy’s wrist again just as she tried to ease backward. “Noah’s unmarried, Ivy, and I’m sure he’s looking for just the right young woman to fill his life. Proverbs says, ‘A man who finds a wife—’”
“Aunt Arletta!”
Noah’s lips twitched into a full grin, his teeth flashing white against his tanned skin, as though he knew Ivy wanted to melt into the shrubbery.
She took in his soiled jeans, damp at the knees, and his heavy work boots. A streak of dirt clung to his forehead, evidence of a swiping arm, no doubt. Behind him, a wheelbarrow full of last-minute bush trimmings sat on the edge of the brick garden terrace. They were less than an hour from the appointed ceremony time; why was a gardener even still on the grounds?
He held a big clay pot of golden mums, the multipetaled blossoms splashing bright color against his denim work shirt. His long fingers showed scabbed knuckles, and Ivy briefly wondered what he’d done to injure his hand.
“But Ivy,” Aunt Arletta continued, irrepressible, “Proverbs says, ‘A man who finds a wife—’”
“Yes, I know what Proverbs says,” Ivy interrupted. She felt her cheeks grow warm with color and pressed her lips together, holding her irritation in check at Aunt Arletta’s usual behavior. Introducing her to strange men who her aunt thought suitable husband material was something Ivy’d come to expect. But really! A gardener?
Aunt Arletta knew very well she had her sights set higher. She wanted to meet an upwardly mobile man. Someone who wore expensive suits and silk ties to work and knew the corporate world—or someone solidly entrenched in a good law firm or in line for a hospital chief-of-staff position. A man with a good future.
Pointedly glancing at her watch, she said, “I don’t mean to be rude, Mr., um, Noah, but I’ve got to get back to the bride. I just ducked out to have a breath of air.”
She glanced around at the banks of autumn flowers and foliage enhancing the walks and benches and terrace. The garden reflected a great deal of work and artistic eye for color and design. “It all looks lovely, but, er, shouldn’t you be finished by now?”
“Just going.” His voice sounded like deep chocolate icing on a velvet cake. Rich and delicious, it startled her into glancing at him again. She felt her mouth droop in blinking anticipation when he said, “I’ll be out of here in two minutes. Nice to meet you, Ivy.”
He shifted his smile to her aunt, softening his goodbye to her, and ignored Ivy. Nodding almost curtly, she swung on her heel and headed back to the upstairs bedroom set aside as the bride’s dressing room.
“I suppose you’ll have to find another time to talk to Ivy, Noah,” she heard her aunt say as she walked away. Then, half-apologetically, “Weddings make her a bit touchy. And you know, Proverbs says a prudent man overlooks an insult.”
“And only a fool shows his annoyance at once,” he replied.
Ivy gritted her teeth. Another Proverb, her aunt’s favorite source of quotations. Why Aunt Arletta thought she needed to impart that information about her hating weddings flummoxed her. It wasn’t a stranger’s business to know. It was bad enough for Kelly to watch her like a mother hen whose troublesome chick might run amok, much less having complete strangers expecting her to do something inappropriate. She had every intention of behaving perfectly today. She’d given Kelly her promise.
Still, she paused at the door to take three deep breaths before returning to the bridal party—Kelly, her sister Kathy, and the three other twittering bridesmaids, all wearing identical dresses to her own. She felt like a scoop of lime sherbet. Why couldn’t Kathy have gone for the hunter green, like most other autumn weddings sported?
She hoped by this time all the talk between them of whose turn it was next to become a bride had passed. Ivy sighed, allowing herself one moment of defeat before putting on her most dazzling smile. It seemed she would be the last of her high school chums to walk down the isle when she’d been the one who talked most, all her life, of getting married. Thank goodness, Kelly was the only one of the wedding party who knew she’d almost made it to the church twice. Three times, if anyone counted that stupid secret high school engagement, thankfully aborted before the planned elopement took place. She couldn’t bear having everyone stare at her in pity, with the unspoken words three strikes and you’re out hovering in their minds.
Ivy hadn’t been lucky at actually becoming a bride.
Now she didn’t allow her hopes to jump at every man who might be a likely candidate, and kept her past disappointments locked away in the privacy of her memory bank. But in her heart of hearts she still wished for a husband and a home of her own.
Sudden laughter bubbled up from Ivy’s middle; it was a good thing she kept that particular yearning well hidden these days. With Aunt Arletta’s propensity for latching onto strange men, she daren’t open her mouth. A gardener, for Pete’s sake?
Besides, lately she’d decided her life was full enough with the shop, Aunt Arletta and church activities. She helped out in the toddler nursery from time to time, which gave her babies to hug, a momentary feeling of motherhood. A stopgap, to be sure—but who had time for anything else, anyway?
Feeling more serene, Ivy swung through the door and immediately stopped to catch her breath. Fitted with floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall mirrors on four sides, the room reflected Kelly’s tall, regal figure again and again all around her, stunning in an elegant gown of white lace and satin, trimmed in seed pearls.
“Oh, Kelly,” she murmured in awe, instantly scrapping any lingering envy or misplaced jealousy she’d brought into the day. How could she be so petty in light of her friend’s happiness? “You’d make the perfect bride to grace any of the brides’ magazine covers.”
“Thank you, Ivy.” Kelly smiled, tremulous with emotion.
Through a connecting door into the next room, the other girls flitted about with lively chatter as they made last-minute checks to their hair and dresses. Strains of a single flute drifted up from the distant first-floor ballroom where the ceremony would take place, shortly joined by violins and a piano.
“Oh, the music has started,” Kelly said, her hand fluttering to her chest, a trait unusual for her. “Is it time?”
“Yes,” Ivy answered with calm fondness. “Yes it is, hon. And I can’t wait ‘til Scott gets his first glimpse of you.”
Almost two hours later, Ivy finally slipped away from the wedding reception lineup. Her mouth was dryer than a cotton ball and the happy bride no longer needed her. She looked around for the punch table. It stood ten people deep and a multitude of guests stacked the buffet lines; Aunt Arletta moved in one of the lines, busily talking with another woman her own age.
Another half hour would pass before Ivy was required again. She turned away. All she wanted was water; she wondered where she might find the kitchen.
Moving out of the huge ballroom and through the center hall, Ivy followed a waitress weaving her way toward the back of the house into a lesser