“Tent?”

“My father likes the men to dance under the stars. I want to rent a tent, a dance floor and a bandstand. I’m hiring a Basque band from San Francisco. I’m sure they’ll step aside long enough for my father, my brothers and uncles and others to have a turn, but I want my parents to celebrate with me. If it rains, and rain in spring is not at all unusual in north Oregon, we’ll be covered. And I want Scott’s mothers to have a good time. If possible.”

“Mothers?” Grace asked.

“His mother and his late wife’s mother. The grandmothers. If you pay attention, you’ll hear him complain about them, but I have a mother, grandmother, a million aunts and cousins all over the place, all the way to Spain and France. The Basque people are the only ethnic group to come from two countries, Spain and France, and the tradition and ritual in the old country, even though there is no old country anymore, is rigid and colorful and often troublesome as they argue over control. His mothers can’t hold a candle to that!”

“So there will still be pear and cherry blossoms?” Grace asked almost weakly.

“Thousands,” Peyton said. “I grew up on that farm. I’m committed to a zillion flowers and fruit blossoms and bees!” she said, laughing. “The sheep are not invited!”

“Oh, God, it sounds amazing! I hate bees,” Grace added.

“I’m sure Scott will be packing an EpiPen if you have a reaction. Because, of course, the reason I’m asking you for flowers is because I’d like you to attend if you can. I’m kind of hoping you’ll bring some of the flowers. I realize it’s a very long trip for a delivery.”

“Invited? Me?”

“Of course! I love the flowers my mother and aunts bring, but I’d like a few different blooms this time. Day lilies, calla lilies, hybrid roses, maybe some more tropical blossoms, an orchid or two. If you don’t count my younger brother who is divorced, I’m officially the last Lacoumette to marry. I’ve already talked to my mother about the flowers and the food...”

“The food?” Grace asked.

“She’ll be cooking and freezing for weeks, but I’m holding her back. I wouldn’t celebrate without her more famous dishes but my brother-in-law, the chef, owns a five-star restaurant! I want him to participate. He’s gifted and he’s honored to be asked. If you want to really compliment a Basque, praise their cooking, dancing, music making or children raising. My mother is being very stoic about this, that Lucas would provide some of the food. At least he’s family.” She laughed and shook her head. “They won’t share recipes with each other, it’s hilarious.”

“Peyton, this sounds huge. Maybe bigger than I am. I don’t want to buck tradition.”

“We have to buck tradition,” she said. “I’m Basque but my fiancé isn’t. He’s getting married, too! Although...he can’t get enough of them, of that farm. He’s so happy when he’s there. I can’t take him there too often or he’ll grow big as a bull! No one loves to eat like Scott.”

That made Grace smile. “Troy could probably give him a run for his money.”

Peyton’s dark eyes twinkled. She was silent for a moment. “How’s that going? You and Troy?”

“Nice,” Grace said. “Tell me about your family. About how you met Scott. About the farm and the culture and the traditional Basque wedding.”

Peyton explained that she was the oldest of eight and, no, she hadn’t been dreaming of a big family! She had been determined to be single for a long while but now that she’d found Scott and his two kids, she was very anxious to have one, maybe two, to add to the pack. She described her parents, her siblings, nieces and nephews, talked about Scott and how he was the last thing she ever expected. She explained the Basque people as best she could, how she worked in a Basque clinic in the south of France for a while after graduating from college, getting to know the old country. Grace couldn’t wait to do a little online research about the culture. Almost two hours had passed before they got around to blooms and stalks, number of guests and colors.

“It’s spring. I’m dressing my bridesmaids in all the spring colors—lavender, pink, baby blue and yellow. I want a colorful wedding! I want their bouquets to match their dresses and mine to represent all of them. I want spring colors in the altar arrangements, then we’ll take them to the farm for the reception. The groom’s dinner is Scott’s responsibility and he’s chosen a hotel in Portland that can cater in a banquet hall and I offered flowers, which his mother snapped up immediately. There will be at least thirty people at the dinner.

“There will be about two hundred people, all arriving in cars, RVs, trucks with camper shells and fifth wheels. My mother thinks the tent for the reception is uppity, and my father complains it will block the sky, but he already contacted cousins in the old country to send him crates of their best wine. We always have to rent tables so at least no one is complaining about that. But I want a waitstaff and bartenders for this event, if only to help with the cleanup. My family should celebrate and enjoy the fruits of their labors.”

“It sounds positively wonderful,” Grace said somewhat dreamily. “I can’t imagine having that many family members around to celebrate.”

“Oh, there will be arguing, too,” she said. “Fights, even. Big families—big control issues. They’re very opinionated, very strong, very nosy. There is always lots of laughter, lots of yelling.”

“I’d love to do this,” Grace said. “But I’ll be honest, I’ve never done a wedding this big or this far away. The people I worked for before coming here to open the shop are in Portland. I know they could do it...”

“Get them to help you, if you want,” Peyton said. “I only want two things from you—flowers and to see you dance at my wedding. I hope a lot of people from Thunder Point will be there.”

Grace gave the situation some thought. There were many different ways this could be accomplished. She could order the flowers and even make the bouquets and arrangements and drive up with them—the van was refrigerated in back. Or, she could transport the flowers and make them into bouquets and arrangements once there. Or, she could have Ross and Mamie order the flowers and she could go up a day early, visit with them and make up the flowers in their shop. They’d be thrilled. She ran over all these possibilities with Peyton and Peyton left the final decision in her hands.

“And now, what can I do for you?” Peyton asked.

“Oh. That.” Grace cleared her throat. “A checkup, I guess. I haven’t had one in a while, like too long. Oh, don’t make that face—it’s only been a few years!”

Peyton’s black eyes grew huge. “A few years?”

Grace leaned toward her a little. “I’ve had lots of physicals over the years, all with good results, but only a couple of those exams. But now it seems I need to be on the pill.”

“Ah,” Peyton said. “Gotcha.”

“Your first thirty-year-old virgin?” Grace asked with a smirk, though she was not thirty yet.

“No,” Peyton said, laughing. “I’m very happy to oblige.” She glanced at her watch. “Can you come down to the clinic this afternoon at around two? That’s a really slow time. Scott will be at the hospital and I can arrange with Devon to get you in right away so we don’t take too much of your time. But I’m going to want to do a blood panel to make sure everything is in order.”