Thankfully, Chip appeared with a beautiful young woman at his side I knew immediately was his fiancée, since not only was he holding her hand, but he was staring at her with the biggest puppy-dog eyes I’d ever seen. “Mariah, this is my cousin Winifred and her friend Ellie,” he told her.
“Hello,” I said, holding out my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you.” She smiled and shook my hand, then she bit her lip. “You’re . . . Frannie’s daughter? One of Mack’s girls?”
I smiled, impressed. “Very good.”
She blushed a little as she laughed. “I’m trying. Chip went through all the family names on the drive here from the airport—”
“She took notes,” Chip said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “And studied them like there was going to be a quiz later.”
“I did,” Mariah admitted. “But it’s really nice to put faces to the names. There are so many of you!”
Ellie held out her hand. “Don’t worry—I’m not a family member, so you don’t have to memorize me. But congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thank you so much.” Mariah smiled at Ellie. “Do you live in the area?”
“Ellie’s family owns Abelard Vineyards on Old Mission Peninsula,” I said. “It’s really beautiful—you should visit if you have the time.”
“Too bad our new restaurant isn’t open quite yet,” Ellie said. “You could come for dinner.”
Mariah, who didn’t appear to be much older than Ellie and me, looked up at Chip. “I really wish we had more time here. We just have the one night.”
“We’ll come back, babe.” He kissed her forehead. “Promise.” To us, he said, “Mariah’s family is from Michigan too, a little south of here.”
“I grew up in Bellamy Creek,” Mariah said.
“Oh, I know that area!” Ellie nodded enthusiastically. “It’s such a cute town. About two hours from here, right?”
Mariah nodded and smiled. “Yes.”
“Is your family here tonight?” I asked.
“No, we visited my family a few weeks ago, and we do want everyone to get together soon, but since Chip’s extended family is pretty big, I sort of wanted the chance to meet everyone first without having to make tons of introductions.” Mariah smiled at me. “I just met your mom and dad. They’re so nice—everyone is,” she said, laughing. “I just want to keep all the names straight.”
“You’re doing fine. Can I get you another glass of wine?” Chip asked his fiancée.
“Yes. I set my glass down somewhere outside—I think at Mack and Frannie’s table,” Mariah said.
“I’ll find it. Be right back.”
Mariah watched him walk away so adoringly, Ellie and I exchanged a private look of mock disgust.
“When will you get married?” I asked her. “Have you guys decided yet or is it too soon to ask?”
She laughed. “If it was up to Chip, we’d be married already—he does not care about having a big fancy wedding.”
“Most guys probably don’t,” Ellie said with a smile. “We do a lot of weddings at Abelard, and I had to meet with a couple today about theirs, and the dude could not have cared less about any of it. Meanwhile, the bride was like, ‘That’s not quite the right shade of ivory I want for the linens. Do you have anything closer to ecru? Perhaps more of a creme brulée?’”
Mariah laughed. “That will not be me. I don’t have the whole thing visualized in my mind or anything—and it doesn’t have to be huge. I’d like something intimate, just family and close friends. We’re sort of limited by the baseball calendar as to when we can do it, so we’re thinking maybe February.”
“This February?” I asked in surprise.
She nodded. “I know it’s only six months away, and most brides plan ahead at least a year, but I’m hoping we can pull something off.”
“I’m sure you can,” Ellie said confidently. “And I bet you’ll have an easier time finding a venue in the winter.”
“April said I should talk to Millie about Cloverleigh Farms.” Mariah tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You should,” I agreed. “I saw her car on the street, so she’s here somewhere. And if Cloverleigh is all booked up during that time, check out Abelard. It’s not far from here, and it’s gorgeous. Cloverleigh is more American rustic chic, but Abelard is vintage south of France.” I kissed my fingertips. “Très belle.”
“That sounds beautiful. So you’re a wedding planner?” Mariah asked Ellie.
“No, I work for the winery. My mother is who you want—her name is Mia Fournier. She’s the manager at Abelard and coordinates all the weddings.”
“Thanks,” Mariah said. “Next time we’re here, I’ll definitely check it out.”
Chip returned with a full glass of white wine, handing it to Mariah. “How’s it going?”
“Great,” she said. “We’re talking about the wedding.”
He looked at us. “I voted for Vegas with an Elvis impersonator officiating, but I don’t think I’m going to get my way.”
I gave his chest a playful shove. “You’re not.”
He grinned. “I’m gonna grab another beer and check on Dex since he doesn’t really know anyone else here.”
“He knows Winnie,” said Ellie. “He’s seen a lot of her lately.”
I gave her a murderous look.
“That’s so crazy that he moved in next door to you.” Chip hesitated. “And I wasn’t going to ask, but what was that about them . . . being in your bedroom today?”
Sighing, I took another long sip of wine and told them the story. By the time I got to the part where Luna announced to the living room that they saw my bum today, Mariah was wiping tears. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. That fall must have hurt.”
“My pride took the bigger bruise,” I said, “but I’ll be okay. The wine is helping.”
“I’ll get you another glass.” Chip took my empty glass and headed for the island. A moment later, he came back with it and took off in search of Dex.
Ellie and I chatted with Mariah for a few more minutes, asking her about her job with the White Sox. “I’m in media relations,” she said, “which basically means I’m a liaison between the team and the press.”
“Do you like it?” Ellie asked.
“Yeah, I do. I’ve always loved sports, and at one point, I thought about broadcast journalism, but turns out I like being behind the scenes.” She shrugged. “I could always try broadcasting in the future, but I guess it depends where Chip and I end up.”
“Is he planning on staying in the game for a while?” I wondered.
“I’m not sure,” Mariah said. “Pitching is really hard on the body. Most pitchers retire before age thirty. Chip is thirty-four, so he’s like a grandpa.” She laughed.
“You’ll keep him young,” I told her with a smile.