Page 10 of Wisteria Winds (Wisteria Island #2)

He had called Eddie at dawn, eager to get the project moving along. The island’s maintenance supervisor had been with Bennett since the very beginning, helping to transform an overgrown patch of coastal land into a vibrant community.

“The builders can start Monday,” Eddie said, pacing off the dimensions. “I’ve already called Miguel’s team on the mainland. They said they’d clear their schedule because they owe you for getting Miguel’s mother into that specialist in Atlanta last year.”

“They don’t owe me anything,” Bennett said. “It was just the right thing to do, but I’m glad they can fit us in quickly.”

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, well, not everybody does the right thing these days. Anyhow, they’re excited to get started, so they’ll make it their best work yet.”

Bennett nodded. Miguel’s construction company had built several structures on the island and always had exceptional craftsmanship. They understood the coastal environment and how to create buildings that could take the salt air and occasional storms.

“I’ve got Cecilia’s drawings here,” Eddie said, pulling out several sheets of paper. “Woman knows what she wants, I’ll give her that. She was very specific about the column design.”

“She has excellent taste,” Bennett said, “and a keen eye for detail. I drew the first pictures, but she took them away from me and made something much better looking.”

“Like mother, like daughter with the keen eye for detail,” Eddie said.

“Danielle nearly drove me crazy with her requests when we were rebuilding her cottage after the hurricane. ‘Two inches to the left, Eddie.’ ‘Can we raise this window six inches, Eddie?’ But, you know, she was right about it every time.”

Bennett laughed, remembering how particular Danielle had been about her new home. Her attention to detail and insistence on getting things right were among the many things he loved about her.

“Speaking of Danielle,” Eddie said, “does she know you’re out here at the crack of dawn getting this started?”

“Not exactly. I wanted to surprise her with how quickly we can make progress. So, the gazebo was decided yesterday. I’m hoping we can have it substantially complete within a couple of weeks.”

Eddie whistled. “Wow, that’s ambition. Ambitious even from Miguel’s team.”

“I know. But we’ve got resources, and I’m willing to pay whatever it takes to get this thing going.” He looked out over the water. “I want Danielle to be able to see it, to walk through it, and really visualize our wedding day, not just look at sketches.”

Eddie nodded. “You’re a good man, Bennett. Danielle’s lucky to have found you.”

“Oh, I’m the lucky one,” Bennett replied softly.

They spent the next hour taking measurements and discussing all the technical details—the depth of the foundation, the materials for the columns, the design of the roof. Bennett wanted everything to be perfect.

As they worked, several residents strolled by on their morning walks, curious about what was going on. News of the gazebo and its purpose as Danielle and Bennett’s wedding venue had spread quickly through the island’s very efficient grapevine.

“Morning, fellas,” Gladys called, approaching with her tiny dog trotting beside her. “Marking out for the wedding spot, are you?”

“That’s right,” Bennett said. “The gazebo will stand right here.”

Gladys smiled, her weathered face crinkling. “Well, how wonderful. You know, Harold proposed to me in a gazebo. We were in Savannah in 1962. He was so nervous that he dropped the ring. We had to get down on our hands and knees and find it in the cracks between the floorboards.”

Bennett smiled. “Well, we’ll make sure the floorboards are nice and tight.”

“See that you do,” she said with a wink. “Oh, and make sure it’s big enough for me to get up there and dance afterward. These old bones still remember how to cut a rug, you know.”

As Gladys continued on her way, Eddie laughed. “I think this whole island is invested in this wedding now.”

“Well, it’s their celebration too, in a way,” Bennett said. “These people are our family.”

By mid-morning, they had completed the preliminary measurements and marked the foundation outline with bright orange spray paint. Eddie headed off to call the contractors and left Bennett alone on the bluff.

He stood in the center of what would become the gazebo, turning slowly to take in the view from all angles. This is where he would meet Danielle—his wife—and they would begin the next chapter of their lives together. The thought filled him with such a profound sense of rightness.

His phone buzzed with a text from Danielle.

Where are you? Morty’s looking everywhere, says he has urgent questions about wedding cake flavors.

Bennett smiled and typed back.

At the future gazebo site with Eddie, taking measurements for builders. Hide while you still can.

Her reply came a few seconds later.

Too late. He found me. We are debating the merits of lemon curd versus raspberry filling. Send help.

Laughing, Bennett put his phone back in his pocket and took one last look at the marked-out gazebo footprint before heading toward the center of the island.

As he walked, he calculated timelines and logistics, determined to create something truly special for his future wife.

The gazebo would be more than just a wedding venue. It would be his gift to her, to the island, and to their future together. And one day, he hoped to be sitting in that gazebo with their children—a place where they would make memories for years to come.

* * *

M orty paced back and forth with anxious energy as he crossed Dorothy’s living room. He kept checking his watch and felt like he had done it three times in the last two minutes.

“Oh, she’s late,” he fretted. “What if she’s changed her mind? What if she has decided to whisk Danielle away back to New York City for some big society wedding after all?”

Dorothy, elegantly arranged in her purple velvet chaise lounge, didn’t look up from her magazine.

“Oh, dear Morty, she’ll be here. Cecilia Wright is a woman who keeps her appointments. Plus, I don’t think she’s the type to kidnap her own daughter.”

“But it’s already ten past three. The florist’s samples will be wilting.”

“Calm yourself, darling. A proper entrance is always a little fashionably late.” She turned a page slowly in her magazine. “Besides, anticipation heightens the impact.”

Morty wasn’t convinced, but before he could say anything else, a crisp knock sounded at the door. He practically leapt to answer it.

Cecilia was standing on the porch, looking immaculate in cream linen pants and a coral-colored blouse.

“Dr. Wright, we were just?—”

“Cecilia, please,” she said, holding up her hand. “And I’m sorry for my tardiness. I was on a call with my publisher that ran longer than expected.”

“Not at all, you’re right on time,” Dorothy called from the chaise, taking a sip of her mimosa. “Morty simply arrived obscenely early, as is his habit.”

Cecilia crossed to Dorothy and extended her hand. “I wanted to properly introduce myself and tell you that I’ve admired your work for many years.”

Dorothy accepted the handshake. “The admiration is mutual. I’ve actually read some of your research papers.”

“You’ve read my research?” Cecilia said, pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, I make it a point to stay informed. Just because I played vapid socialites on screen doesn’t mean I actually am one. Although I am wearing a muumuu and drinking a mimosa in my velvet chaise,” she said, smiling slightly.

“Well, I would never assume you were one. In fact, I’ve always thought of your performances as showing remarkable intelligence beneath all that glamor.”

Morty watched the two formidable women size each other up. It was like watching two regal cats decide whether to share the same territory.

“Now then,” Cecilia said, “I understand we’re finalizing floral arrangements today.”

“Yes,” Morty said, clapping. He was happy to return to the agenda. He ran to the dining table where he had laid out various sample arrangements, color swatches, and more sketches.

“Now, the florist sent these for our approval. I am leaning toward the white roses with sea lavender and a touch of wisteria, of course.”

Cecilia looked at the samples with a critical eye. “The palette is pretty, but I’m concerned about the structure of this arrangement. For the gazebo columns, we need something more vertically dramatic.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Dorothy said as she slowly stood up and joined them at the table. “The columns need a cascading element, something that will draw the eye upward.”

“Well, maybe orchids,” Cecilia said, “but integrated with trailing jasmine or clematis for movement.”

Morty watched them in fascination as they started rearranging all the elements, their heads bent together over the samples. Even though they came from very different backgrounds, they shared an impressive innate sense of aesthetics.

“The gazebo is going to be white, correct?” Cecilia said, making notes in a small leather-bound notebook.

“Yes, with subtle gray undertones so that it won’t look so stark against the natural setting,” Morty said.

“Well, then we need warmth in the flowers to soften the overall effect. Blush pink, perhaps, with maybe some pale peach.” Cecilia selected several color swatches and arranged them in a fan-like shape. “Something like this.”

Dorothy nodded. “Oh yes, that will photograph beautifully against the ocean backdrop. But we must think about the light. A late afternoon wedding will have a golden quality that will enhance these tones.”

For the next hour, the three of them worked through every single detail of floral design—from the gazebo decorations to the bridal bouquet, from boutonnieres to centerpieces.

Morty was amazed how Cecilia just folded right into their planning process.

“You have quite the eye for design,” he said as Cecilia sketched an arrangement for the gazebo entrance.

“Well, I’ve chaired my share of fundraisers and galas. One develops a certain sense for these things.”

“It’s more than that,” Dorothy observed. “You have a natural talent. I think in another life, you could have been a designer yourself. Do you believe in reincarnation?”

Cecilia chuckled. “Not really. I am a scientist, after all. But perhaps I could have been a designer. My mother was an artist, actually. But science was always my calling.”

“So is it difficult balancing a demanding career with family life?” Morty asked.

Cecilia was quiet for a moment. “Oh yes. I was often absent when Danielle was growing up. Her father was a doctor too. We had conferences and research trips. I spent endless hours in the lab.”

“But you clearly adore her,” Morty said.

“Oh, more than anything. However, I haven’t always been good at showing it. I wanted her to have every opportunity and every advantage. Sometimes I pushed too hard and tried to shape her path instead of letting her find her own way.”

Dorothy nodded. “It’s the eternal maternal dilemma. Mothers want to protect them from their mistakes and only find out that they’re making new ones.”

“Oh, do you have children, Ms. Monroe?”

A shadow passed over Dorothy’s face. “No. I always wanted children, but it was never meant to be for me, I suppose. I spent a lot of time away from home on movie sets, so I guess it was for the best at the time. It’s quite lonely now, not having any family to visit me, though.”

Morty knew Dorothy’s painful history and reached out to squeeze her hand supportively.

Cecilia broke her silence. “You know, that’s why this wedding is so important to me. This is my chance to show Danielle that I care about her and support her in a way I often didn’t show. To show her that I support her choices, even when they’re different from what I might have chosen.”

“Then we shall make it perfect,” Dorothy said, putting her hand on Cecilia’s shoulder. “A celebration worthy of the love that Bennett and Danielle have found with each other.”

Morty felt his eyes welling with tears, as they often did.

“Tissues, Morty,” Dorothy offered, rolling her eyes.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, dabbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Just a bit of pollen from all these flowers.”

Cecilia chuckled. “You care deeply for them, too, don’t you? Danielle and Bennett?”

“Oh, they’re family. The first real family I’ve had in a long time,” Morty said.

“Now, shall we discuss table linens?” Cecilia said, changing the subject. “I have some thoughts about incorporating a tiny, subtle pattern that complements all the floral design.”

As they returned to wedding planning, Morty felt a sense of connection with Cecilia Wright, something he had never expected.

Through her polished exterior was a woman trying to bridge the gap with her daughter.

And if their little island wedding could help heal that relationship—well, then that would be the most beautiful decoration of all.