A Fine Year for Love. Catherine Lanigan
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can’t wait. Then we’ll fly to southern Italy and spend two weeks there. It’s like a dream,” Maddie said.
“You deserve it,” Liz said. “You’ve worked so hard for so many years. You deserve a great guy and a wonderful trip...”
“Oh, yeah? You’ve worked just as hard as Maddie,” Sarah quipped.
“Yes,” Liz replied. “But I’ve already been to France.”
“That’s right!” Maddie said. “She’s been to France, so she’s a step ahead of all of us. Right, Liz?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that, but I would say going there with someone special should be wonderful.”
They eased the boat off the shore, then climbed in and took their seats. Oars in place, in minutes they were synchronized and sluicing through the reflective water.
Sarah called out the strokes, as she always did. Liz concentrated on her muscles, the fit of the oar in her hands and the feel of the wind on her face.
Back straining, thighs tight in order to stay properly seated, the four friends worked as a team and became one.
As they rounded the north end of the lake, Maddie pointed to a heavily treed space. “See that, guys?”
“That’s the old Hanson lot, isn’t it?” Liz said, shielding her eyes. “I heard Mr. Hanson died back in May or June, wasn’t it?”
“Right,” Maddie said. “Nate and I bought the lot. We’re going to start building next month.”
Liz grabbed Maddie by the shoulders and shook her slightly. “You’re really doing this. Jumping in with both feet. First, all the wedding plans. Then a trip to Europe for a honeymoon and now building a house together.”
Isabelle laughed heartily. “They should be divorced by Valentine’s Day.”
“What?” Maddie screeched. “Don’t say that!”
“Oh, don’t listen to Isabelle,” Sarah said. “I say go for it. Charmaine and I can work out some blueprints for the interior.”
Maddie smiled wistfully. “I want it to look like a summer cottage—dark wood floors, rag rugs and lots of French doors overlooking the lake.”
“Sounds perfect,” Liz said as they rowed back toward the marina.
“So, do I get any vote on who will be my groomsman?” Isabelle asked from the back of the boat.
“You’ll be with Mica. Scott Abbot will escort Olivia.”
Suddenly, Liz felt her entire back break out in icy chills. She should have realized Nate would want his three brothers to be his groomsmen.
“Rafe is going to be the best man,” Maddie continued. “He’ll be escorting Sarah.”
“That leaves Gabe to be my escort,” Liz said, feeling her mouth go dry.
“Yeah,” Maddie replied gleefully. “You two will look great together. You’re both tall, and he’s just so handsome.”
“What Barzonni isn’t handsome?” Sarah laughed. The boat came ashore and they got out.
As they took out their oars and lifted the boat onto their shoulders, the full impact of Liz’s commitment to Maddie hit her. She would have to sit with Gabe at the rehearsal dinner for the pictures. At the wedding, he would walk her down the aisle and back out again. They would be seated next to each other at the reception. That was something she couldn’t wangle her way out of. But it was just one dinner. One night. She could deal with it. It wasn’t going to be so bad.
“Yeah,” Maddie was saying. “Both Liz and Isabelle will have the awful burden of being around those handsome boys for my engagement party at the Barzonnis’ house and the couples’ shower at Mrs. Beabots’s. Then there’s a cocktail party being thrown by the hospital doctors, which is going to be a really big deal. Tuxedos and gowns and the whole thing. I’ll love that. I figure that through the rest of the summer and fall, we’ll all be doing something special together on the weekends. Doesn’t that sound great?”
Liz was silent as they stored the boat and oars and locked the boathouse, a smile plastered on her face.
She’d just promised herself she would pretend Gabe Barzonni didn’t exist. Now she was going to be thrown together with him for months. Then an idea hit her. She rushed up to Maddie’s car just as Maddie was getting in.
“Hey, I just had a quick question,” Liz said. “Was it you or Nate who decided on which groomsman would be with Isabelle and me?”
“Nate,” Maddie assured her. “Funny you should ask, though.”
“Why?” Liz cringed. That word again.
“Last night Nate told me he and Gabe had been having a beer at the Lodge and decided it would be cute to pair up Isabelle and Mica, even though Scott Abbot would be the obvious choice for her. She’s always giving Scott a hard time. Maybe if she made Scott a bit jealous, he would make a real commitment to her instead of beating around the bush all the time. Isn’t that the cutest idea? Do you think it would work?”
Ire rekindled its flame in Liz’s belly and exploded inside her. She felt an acid burn all the way up to her throat and she could hardly get out her words. “Gabe.”
“He’s been such a help to Nate with the plans,” Maddie said.
“A help.”
“Nate’s so busy with surgeries, so Gabe’s just been great. Organizing the engagement party with their mom. He even got the Tom and Jason Big Band to play until midnight,” Maddie said effusively.
“An orchestra.” Liz swallowed. There would be dancing. Arms entwined. Her head nuzzled in the crook of his neck. Liz felt the heat inside her boil over. She hadn’t trusted Gabe when she’d found him skulking around her vines. Now he was deliberately manipulating her social life.
“Isn’t it great?” Maddie asked.
“Sure. Yeah,” Liz said, trying to cover her shock and frustration. “I was just curious.”
“You know, I didn’t ask you, but have you ever met Gabe?”
“Uh. Only in passing.”
“Well, I’d better get to the café. Chloe can only do so much without me. Call me later.”
Liz watched her friend drive away, then went over to her pickup. She stared out the windshield at the lake.
Her grandfather believed all Barzonni men were up to no good.
Guess Grandpa’s right.
FOR THE NEXT several days, Liz was busy with a hundred tasks. Because she was the general manager, the winemaker, the sales manager and the office manager all rolled into one, her list of duties was like a black hole. She never got it all done. On summer days, she worked dawn to dusk at the vineyard, and though she relished every moment of the work, it was still exhausting.
On Thursday morning, a series of semitrucks barreled up the country road that ran between the western edge of her property and the Mattuchi farm. Semis weren’t unusual on that road, which led to the highway, but a constant stream of eighteen-wheelers was out of the ordinary. Trucks carrying large loads of lumber, pipes and building materials could only mean one thing. Someone up the country road was building a new house or barn.
Liz didn’t have time to be curious or to gossip with neighbors. She had her eyes on the clouds gathering over Lake Michigan. She took out her cell phone and opened her weather radar app. Unfortunately, radar or not, the fickle westerly winds had a mind of their own once they reached the lake. The rain could