The Summer's End

“You know very well I mean Girard. You weren’t exactly subtle with your flirting, Granny. I thought Mamaw was going to bust a gut.”

Granny James laughed and smiled like the cat that ate the canary. “Yes, she was, wasn’t she?”

“I suppose that was deliberate, too?”

“Of course. She can be so smug. It wasn’t exactly work, though.” Granny swirled her wine. “That Girard is certainly a handsome man.”

Harper laughed at her grandmother’s antics, even while trying to keep her features stern. She threw up her hands in frustration as she laughed. Suddenly her laughter shifted to tears.

Granny James set her wineglass down and placed her hands on Harper’s arms. “What’s the matter, darling?”

“You’re what’s the matter!” Harper dropped her hands, pouting like the little girl she didn’t want to be seen as. Especially not tonight. Especially not in front of her grandmother. “I was so glad that you were here with me to share my engagement. But I’m afraid you’ve gone and ruined everything.”

“I am sorry that you’re hurt,” Granny James said gently, letting her hand rub Harper’s arm consolingly. “And perhaps I did go too far.” She paused and let her hands drop. “But I am not sorry that I gave your young man the grill, as you put it.” She paused to pat her hair smooth. “You should know,” she said, “he passed with flying colors.”

Harper’s head shot up. “He did?”

Granny James smiled. “I was hard on him. Asked the tough questions. That is my duty as your grandmother, after all.”

“And?”

“He’s a fine young man. Proud, confident. There’s something about his presence that demands respect. Most of all, I believe he loves you very much. If he is your choice, my dear, I believe he deserves you. You have my blessing.”

“Oh, Granny.” Harper impulsively hugged her.

“My,” Granny said, flustered by the hug, “you certainly have become quite affectionate.”

“I have.” Harper hiccuped, trying not to cry. “I’m a girl in love. And I love you, too.”

Granny put her hand on Harper’s cheek. “And I love you. Now let’s return to the table before we get too maudlin, shall we? I promise to be on my best behavior. See?” Granny drained the rest of her wineglass. “The lion has turned into the lamb.”

All chatter at the table stopped when Harper and Granny James strolled back into the dining room carrying a tray of champagne glasses, chocolates, Marcona almonds, and a bottle of champagne. Harper and Granny James were all smiles.

At the table, Mamaw and Girard exchanged a glance. She looked around the table to see the others with equally puzzled expressions at the obvious change of mood. Still, she felt a huge relief that a peace had obviously been made.

“More champagne?” Mamaw said. “Dear me, I don’t think I can drink any more.”

“Just one more toast!” Granny James exclaimed, handing the bottle to Taylor. “Dear boy, do you think you could do the honors?” She arched her brow teasingly. “You certainly seem strong enough.” As Taylor easily popped off the cork, Granny James exclaimed, “Delightful sound! My favorite.”

Devlin winked at Dora.

Imogene began walking from person to person, gaily filling glasses with champagne.

“We’ve heard many toasts for the happy couple tonight,” she began when she had finished making her rounds. She cast a pointed look at Devlin. “Some more colorful than others.”

Devlin had the grace to laugh, and the ice was broken.

“But I’ve yet to make a toast.”

Mamaw leaned forward in her seat. She saw Carson and Dora exchange a quick glance of worry.

Imogene paused a moment to smile dotingly on Harper. “Harper is my only grandchild. I am not as fortunate as Marietta to have three such lovely granddaughters. So you’ll forgive me, I hope, if I’ve been, shall we say, inquisitive?”

“The Grand Inquisition is more like it,” Mamaw murmured.

A soft, if surprised, laughter of acknowledgment followed at the table. Relieved at the note of humor in Imogene’s voice, Mamaw joined in.

“The news of the engagement was a surprise, as you can imagine,” Imogene continued in a more serious tone. “Engaged! I hadn’t even heard Harper mention the name Taylor McClellan. So I packed my bag and crossed the pond to see for myself if my only granddaughter’s future was in safe hands.” Imogene turned to Taylor.

Taylor looked back at her, sitting erect in his chair, shoulders back, poised like a cat about to pounce, Mamaw thought. If he had a tail, it’d be whipping back and forth.

“We had a little chat, Taylor and I.” Imogene smiled warmly. “And indeed, her future is in good hands. Good, loving”—Granny smirked—“strong hands.”

Taylor’s shoulders visibly relaxed. He ventured a slight smile and turned to Harper, sitting beside him, for verification. Harper smiled knowingly and placed her hand over his.

“Taylor, speaking for Jeffrey and I, we welcome you to the family. A toast!” Imogene raised her glass higher. She was smiling now, whereas earlier she’d frowned. Radiant with joy. “To Harper and Taylor.”

“Harper and Taylor,” everyone at the table joined in, glasses raised.

The whole table dissolved into laughter as they touched their glasses together in celebration. Mamaw, amazed, puffed out the breath she’d been holding. She’d never forget the sound of the joyous peals of mirth blending with the clinking of crystal.

Girard moved closer, his wineglass held between him and Mamaw. She turned her head, her face inches from his. So much drama tonight, she thought, she’d practically ignored the poor man. Yet he’d handled it all with his usual grace and charm.

“Marietta,” he said in a low voice so only she could hear him. He raised his glass. “To us.”

Mamaw raised an eyebrow at him teasingly. “Don’t you mean to you and Imogene?”

Girard let out a belly laugh. “No.” His eyes flashed. “I most certainly do not.”

Mamaw’s heart skipped as she lifted her glass and, staring into his eyes, took a sip. Never, she thought, had champagne tasted so sweet.

Chapter Twenty-One

Don’t leave yet!” Harper called out to everyone. “I have one more surprise.”