“Give me a minute, okay?”

“Yes, sure.” He let go of her and opened the top drawer of his nightstand. “Just so you know, I have a ring.”

“What?” She couldn’t breathe.

He opened a small box, revealing a band of figured gold set with a square-cut diamond. “It was my grandmother’s,” he said. “I’ve been saving it for you.”

Once again, she was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. She couldn’t speak, nor could she take her eyes off him as she took in the moment, heartbeat by heartbeat. He was the person who had defined love for her, decades before, when she was too young to understand its power. It was the best feeling in the world, raw and powerful, beautiful and devastating, a rush of blood to the head. He had unknowingly set the standard for what she understood love was supposed to be like.

Every relationship she’d had afterward was measured against the love she imagined she would have had with Will—if only. She knew she was idealizing something that had never existed. If it had actually happened, life would have interfered. It might not have lasted. It might have worn thin.

“Caroline?” A crease appeared on his brow. “If the ring’s too old-fashioned, I could—”

“Hush,” she managed to say. “The ring is perfect.” She’d barely glanced at it. “Just listen. There’s something I need to tell you.” She took both his hands between both of hers. “Will Jensen, I’ve loved you for as long as life. I didn’t even know how to talk about love until I talked to you. I was thirteen years old when I fell in love with you. It was the truest love I’d ever felt. I’ve been waiting for this day since I first laid eyes on you. But I never thought it was meant to be. So I’ve spent half my life teaching myself not to love you. Not to want something I could never have.”

“That was then. Everything’s different now. This is about you, Caroline. You and me. And if I’m not mistaken, you just admitted you’re in love with me.”

“Since the beginning of time.”

Somehow the ring slipped onto her finger. And Will asked, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was afraid. I didn’t know if I could—if we could go from being friends to being a couple.”

“Yeah?” He gently traced his finger along her collarbone, following it with his lips. “We’re doing okay in that department.”

She could barely think straight when he touched her like this. “Uh-huh . . .”

“So now?”

“Oh, Will. Now it’s all yes. Yes to all of this. Forever yes.”

Epilogue

“The flower girl is missing.”

Georgia’s worried statement cut through the babble in the bride’s getting-ready room adjacent to the restaurant.

Caroline swiveled around on her stool at the vanity, dropping an eyelash curler and probably creating a dark smudge across her cheek. “What? Where’s Addie? How could she be missing?”

“I don’t know—maybe with a hundred wedding guests arriving in the pouring rain, she wandered away and no one noticed.”

“Oh my gosh, Addie.” Caroline rushed for the door.

Georgia planted herself in the doorway. “Oh no you don’t. I’ve got a search party looking for her right now. You need to finish getting ready.”

“I can’t even finish breathing until I know where Addie went. What if she wanders out into traffic? Is she lost in the dunes? On the beach, for chrissake? What if she’s wet and scared somewhere?”

Virginia raised the window blind and gestured out at the parking lot. “It’s like a dragnet out there. Look at them all.”

The tux-clad brothers and ushers fanned out across the parking lot in all directions. The raised black umbrellas looked like a Magritte painting. A vast white pavilion was set up in the event area of Star of the Sea, sheltering the rows of chairs from the thick drizzle that persisted as the guests arrived for the ceremony.

“She’s probably at the banquet table, sampling the wedding cake,” Virginia added.

Georgia brought Caroline back to the vanity. “Sit,” she commanded. “Let Ilsa do her thing.”

Ilsa had a deft hand with makeup. And with Caroline as well. Instead of attacking her with foundation and highlighter, she took Caroline’s hands. “Breathe,” she said. “It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“Fern, get over here,” Virginia said. “I need to do your hair.”

Caroline’s niece could barely sit still. She spun around on a stool. “You look like a princess, Aunt Caroline. A legit princess.”

Caroline’s gown was dead simple—a gorgeous swath of watered silk that spilled from a stylized nautilus shell cutaway in back. The design was her own, but it had been constructed and sewn by Echo Sanders, now one of her best friends.

“Found her,” Will called from the doorway. He held Addie in his arms. Flick stood beside him. “She was in the back seat of the car, sound asleep.” He placed a kiss on the little girl’s nose. “Just like you were the first time I saw you.”

“Don’t look at the bride,” Fern shrieked. “It’s bad luck if you see the bride!”

“Not looking,” Will said, handing Addie to Georgia.

Caroline looked, though, and she nearly melted with love for him. He looked like every dream she’d ever had of the man she adored, and she couldn’t wait to be his wife.

Watching Will leave the room, Addie clutched her doll and yawned. “I needed to find Wonder Woman,” she said.

“That was a dumb thing to do,” Flick said.

“Hey,” Caroline warned.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. He was growing so tall and confident. Today, in his tux and suspenders, he was beyond cute.

“Come here, you two,” she said, opening her arms to them. “I have something for each of us.” She took out Angelique’s cowrie shell bracelet. She’d carefully separated the triple strands to make three bracelets. “Your mama gave me these on a very important day. They’re made of shells from the beach in Haiti. She used to make them to sell when she was a little girl. We can each wear one to remind us of your mother and how much we love and miss her.” She fastened one bracelet on each of them.

Then she gathered the children in for a hug. Thank you, Angelique. She sent the thought out into the universe. Thank you.

“She’ll never leave us,” she whispered. “She lives in our hearts, okay?”

“That makes me sad,” Addie said, examining the bean-shaped shells of her bracelet. “This is supposed to be a happy day.”

“It sure is,” Caroline said. “If you see people crying, like Grammy Dot or me or . . . just anyone, it’s because we’re really happy.” With that, she looked around the room, strewn with makeup and hair products and bouquets and filled with women who meant the world to her—not just her sisters and mother, but the friends she’d made in the Oysterville Sewing Circle. They had all played a part in her journey. Even Sierra had reached out in a conciliatory gesture. There was a card from her, mailed from Sharm El Sheikh. Her name now appeared on the masthead of a major fashion magazine.