“That’s not the most important thing,” Grace said. “If I can swear to her it’s her dress, that’s all that matters.”

“Good then,” Ginger said. “We’ll save and preserve the removed pieces so your daughter can use them someday. And we’ll need an industrial-strength steamer—no iron is getting near that fabric.”

“Anything you need.” Grace got into her jeans and shirt. “I have to get out to the house. A nurse is meeting me there at nine—she’s going to take care of mother during the day. Peyton and Scott recommended her. Another woman is coming at three—she could be an evening and weekend nurse if we need her. We don’t need round-the-clock coverage yet but Peyton says there’s an excellent agency with lots of good part-timers when we do have a need.

“Troy’s parents will be here on Wednesday and his brother, sister and her family arrive on Thursday.” She stopped dressing and stood stone still. “I’m sorry, Ginger. It’s going to be madness.”

Ginger smiled despite her nerves. “It’s going to be beautiful. Try not to worry.”

School was out. Troy was around to make sure his family had everything they needed and Iris was off for the summer and offered to help in the flower shop. Ginger and Iris wanted the wedding flowers to be perfect. And, as if having an important wedding wasn’t a big enough issue with Ginger, the dress was top priority.

“It will be such an intimate event,” Ginger said.

“There is no such thing on the beach,” Iris said. “Trust me, I’ve lived here all my life. If they marry on the beach, everyone will know about it and they’ll either be invited, come even if they’re not invited or be hurt that they weren’t invited. I warned Grace—she’s going to have to tell Carrie and Rawley to be prepared to cater to a crowd. God, I hope the weather holds...”

“What happens if it doesn’t?” Ginger asked.

“They get married in the living room and depending on the weather, food is served on the deck or in the foyer.”

“Oh, my,” Ginger said.

“It’ll hold,” Iris said, tenderly placing the dress in the large hang-up bag.

The week started out crazy and definitely didn’t ease up, but Ginger was so happy to have something new to talk to Matt about that she didn’t care. She explained all the excitement and complications of the week, how every hand was needed to make this happen quickly so Troy’s family could meet Grace’s family before health issues got in the way or, God forbid, Grace was as ripe as a melon!

“You’re on speaker,” she told Matt. “No one’s here at the moment, but you’re on speaker because I’m sewing seed pearls around the neckline of this dress. The dress lives with Gwen during the day and then after dinner I bring it home so I can look it over, fit it to Grace and do a little handwork at night.”

“You must be exhausted,” he said.

“Not yet, but I’m working on it. I just want this wedding to be wonderful for Grace. And if you could have seen my hand tremble as I was about to take the scissors to this one-of-a-kind gown... I tried not to let it show I was scared to death. But it’s going to be beautiful.”

“You’re full of surprises.”

“Tell me everything you did this week,” she said. “While I go blind on these itty-bitty pearls, tell me everything.”

“I don’t want you to fall asleep while you’re supposed to be sewing.”

“Tell me,” she said.

“It’s June, the farm is stable. We aerate, irrigate, spray for bugs here and there. George has turned out the lambs, Paco is watching for potato worms and other pests. We make our own compost and it’s a double-edged sword—we don’t run the risk of transplanting pests from commercial products but sometimes we create a haven for our own pests because we stay away from the chemicals that will kill them. Our potatoes are well-known for being big, healthy and tasty. During summer, we mind the pears and potatoes, we have a small cherry orchard, some apple trees. We’re watching the crops. George has needed a hand with the lambs—a little docking and castrating.”

“Um, docking?”

“Cropping their tails. If they’re left long, they get messy back there, if you get my drift.”

“Poopy is the drift, I take it.”

He laughed heartily at that. “You don’t want poop on your sweater.”

“Why do you castrate them? Where do you plan to get more babies?”

“George has a couple of very happy rams.”

“They take care of the whole flock?” she asked, stopping her sewing for a second. She had seen the flock. It seemed there were hundreds of them.

“They’re very happy,” he clarified. “The lambs of these rams grow bigger and faster. George has a very successful business, his sheep are high quality and healthy. I’ll spend a couple of days this week helping him vaccinate, too.”

“Wow. I wish I could watch all these things. Maybe not the castrating part. I think farming sounds fun.”

“I think it’s fun. No offense, I have no interest in watching you sew seed pearls onto a wedding dress.”

“No offense taken. Watching sewing is like watching paint dry.”

“When is this wedding, exactly?” he asked.

“Saturday at four. I just want her to be beautiful and happy, then my work is done.”

“It’s a nice time at the farm. We just watch the weather, which has been predictable, and do our chores, which are manageable. When can you come back up here? I can think of things to show you. It’s only peak of summer and dead of winter I’m not running around like a maniac getting things done. I can show you the plans for the house.”

“You already have plans?” she asked.

“Not official. I have a rendering. I’m trying to keep it from being just another farmhouse.”

“How do you do that?”

“Glass. Views. Modern kitchen and bathrooms. Sliding cupboard shelves...”

She laughed.

“There’s no reason it can’t be a beautiful house just because it’s on a farm, right?”

“Tell me about it,” she said.

Almost an hour later, after having made suggestions to the construction of Matt’s beautiful house, she was ready to put the wedding dress away, get in her pajamas, get an ice water for her bedside table.

This had become a nightly event, talking each other almost to sleep, filling each other in on everything from their deep emotional issues to the mundane events of seed pearls and sheep docking.

“Are you okay?” he asked her. “Surrounded by wedding plans and pregnant women?”

“I am,” she said. “As Ray Anne says, we’re stuck with life so we have to live it. I’ve been okay since I came to Thunder Point.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “I better go then. Pears, potatoes and sheep get up early.”

She snuggled down into bed and wondered if this habit, the phone calls that reached into the night, was a rite of passage. She needed to get back to having girlfriends to share some of this information with. Since she married Mick, they had drifted away or she had drifted away from them. She’d ask Grace. Maybe Iris.