Next came the trellis. Once Little was comfortable, he began to shape the roses that draped it. As he worked, I pointed out where the chairs for the guests would go, and my friend winked.

“You wanted impatiens to line the aisle, yes?”

When I nodded, he brought two fingers to his mouth and whistled. A moment later, flower-filled wheelbarrows were rolled to the spot. Two hours later, I marveled at an aisle gorgeous enough to be photographed by a magazine.

Throughout the morning, the rest of the property began to take shape. Once the yard was mowed, bushes were pruned, and workers started edging around the fence posts, walkways, and the house itself. The electrician arrived to turn on the generator, check the outlets, and the floodlights in the garden. An hour later, the painters arrived; six men in splattered overalls emerged from a run-down van, and they helped the landscaping crew store the furniture in the barn. The man who’d come to pressure-wash the house rolled up the drive and parked next to my car. Within minutes of unloading his equipment, the first intense blast of water hit the wall, and slowly but steadily, each plank turned from gray to white.

With all the individual crews busily at work, I made my way to the workshop and grabbed a ladder. The boards from the windows had to be removed, so I set myself to the task. With something to do, the afternoon passed quickly.

By four, the landscapers were loading their trucks and getting ready to head back; the pressure washer and painters were finishing up as well. I had been able to take off most of the boards; a few remained on the second floor, but I knew I could do those in the morning.

By the time I finished storing the boards under the house, the property seemed strangely silent, and I found myself surveying all that had been done.

Like all half-completed projects, it looked worse than it had when we’d begun that morning. Pieces of landscaping equipment dotted the property; empty pots had been piled haphazardly. Both inside and out, only half the walls had been touched up and reminded me of detergent commercials where one brand promises to clean a white T-shirt better than the next. A mound of yard scrap was piled near the fence, and while the outer hearts of the rose garden had been completed, the inner hearts looked forlorn and wild.

Nonetheless, I felt strangely relieved. It had been a good day’s work, one that left no doubt that everything would be finished in time. Jane would be amazed, and knowing she was on her way home, I was starting for my car when I saw Harvey Wellington, the minister, leaning on the fence that separated Noah’s property from his. Slowing my pace, I hesitated only briefly before crossing the yard to join him. His forehead glistened like polished mahogany, and his spectacles perched low on his nose. Like me, he was dressed as if he’d spent most of the day working outside. As I drew near, he nodded toward the house.

“Getting it all ready for the weekend, I see,” he said.

“Trying,” I said.

“You’ve got enough people working on it, that’s for sure. It looked like a parking lot out there today. What did you have? Fifty people total?”

“Something like that.”

He whistled under his breath as we shook hands. “That’ll take a bite out of the old wallet, won’t it?”

“I’m almost afraid to find out,” I said.

He laughed. “So how many you expecting this weekend?”

“I’d guess about a hundred or so.”

“It’s going to be some party, that’s for sure,” he said. “I know Alma’s been looking forward to it. This wedding’s been all she can talk about lately. We both think it’s wonderful that you’re making such a big deal about it.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

For a long moment, he held my gaze without responding. As he watched me, I had the strange impression that despite our limited acquaintance, he understood me quite well. It was a little unnerving, but I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. As a pastor, he was frequently sought for counsel and advice, and I sensed the kindness of someone who’d learned to listen well and sympathize with another’s plight. He was, I thought, a man whom hundreds probably regarded as one of their closest friends.

As if knowing what I was thinking, he smiled. “So, eight o’clock?”

“Any earlier, and I think it would be too hot.”

“It’ll be hot anyway. But I don’t think anyone would care one way or the other.” He motioned toward the house. “I’m glad you’re finally doing something about it. That’s a wonderful place. Always has been.”

“I know.”

He removed his spectacles and began wiping the lenses with his shirttail. “Yeah, I’ll tell you—it’s been a shame watching what’s become of it over the last few years. All it ever needed was for someone to care for it again.” He put his spectacles back on, smiling softly. “It’s funny, but have you ever noticed that the more special something is, the more people seem to take it for granted? It’s like they think it won’t ever change. Just like this house here. All it ever needed was a little attention, and it would never have ended up like this in the first place.”

There were two messages on the answering machine when I arrived home: one from Dr. Barnwell informing me that Noah was back at Creekside and another from Jane saying that she would meet me there around seven.

By the time I arrived at Creekside, most of the family had come and gone. Only Kate remained by Noah’s side when I reached his room, and she brought a finger to her lips as I entered. She rose from her chair and we hugged.

“He just fell asleep,” she whispered. “He must have been exhausted.”

I glanced at him, surprised. In all the years I’d known him, he’d never napped during the day. “Is he doing okay?”

“He was a little cranky while we were trying to get him settled in again, but other than that, he seemed fine.” She tugged at my sleeve. “So tell me—how did it go at the house today? I want to hear all about it.”

I filled her in on the progress, watching her rapt expression as she tried to imagine it. “Jane’ll love it,” she said. “Oh, that reminds me—I talked to her a little while ago. She called to see how Daddy was doing.”

“Did they have any luck with the dresses?”

“I’ll let her tell you about it. But she sounded pretty excited on the phone.” She reached for the purse that was slung over the chair. “Listen, I should probably go. I’ve been here all afternoon, and I know Grayson is waiting for me.” She kissed me on the cheek. “Take care of Daddy, but try not to wake him, okay? He needs his sleep.”