Ack, no. She’d just pressed “send to story.” She had to take it down.
Unfortunately, Hope wasn’t really great with Instagram.
She opened her Internet browser and ran a frantic search.
“What are you doing?”
“Just Googling something,” Hope said, only briefly looking up. Gratefully, she found instructions on deleting the story seconds later. Whew. That had been close. If Jackie’d seen that, what might she have thought? That Brent was smitten, probably. Just like Ava said.
Her mom studied her a moment. “How do you intend to explain all this to Jackie?”
“I don’t,” Hope said with a relieved sigh. “I already deleted the upload.”
“You uploaded that? To where?”
“Insta.”
“You kids with your social media. Not everything has to be recorded in real time, you know.”
“Tell that to Jackie, the wedding planner,” Hope said. “She records tidbits from every wedding she coordinates, apparently. Unofficial glimpses into the prep. That’s all before posting a few formal photos at the end.”
“Hmm.” Ava sank down in the water, letting the bubbles cover her shoulders. “It would be kind of fun to have an Insta post of me singing ‘Eres Tú’.”
“Mom. Really.”
“All right, okay.” Ava scooted back up onto the hot tub bench once she’d checked to make sure there were no more sailboats carrying handsome young men drifting past.
Hope sat back in the lounge chair, attempting to couch things more tenderly. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m sure that Jackie would be touched. But, the truth is, none of that’s been settled yet. You know as well as I do that I only promised to put in a good word, not that it was a done deal, like you seemed to indicate during our meeting with Eleanor. Besides that, as far as I know, Brent doesn’t even speak Spanish.”
“There’s an English translation.”
“Mom.”
“Perhaps something different, then?”
Hope lowered her eyebrows.
Ava huffed out a small breath and examined her nails, extending her hands above the gurgling water. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe during the ceremony is not the most appropriate time.” She looked up with a hopeful stare. “How about at the reception?”
“This isn’t like Debbie’s wedding,” Hope reminded her. “With a hundred and fifty guests. This is a small, intimate wedding, Mom. A family-only thing.”
“I’m family,” Ava said, the hurt in her voice coming through.
Hope’s heart softened toward her mom. As complex as she was, Ava truly only meant well. “Of course you are,” she said. “And I’d kiss you if you weren’t covered in dried mud.”
“Yikes. I’d better wash this off. What time is it?”
“Three o’clock. Almost time for our tea party.”
“Then I’d better get ready.” Before she climbed from the water, Ava surprised Hope with an earnest question. “Do you think it’s too late?”
“Too late for what?”
Ava appeared uncharacteristically timid. “For me to find what you have…” Her gaze drifted toward Blue Hill Bay. “With Brent? Or whatever it is he thinks he has with Jackie?”
Every time her mom hinted that Brent was falling for her instead of her twin, Hope felt worse. But also, twistedly, in a certain sense, better. Because, despite her best efforts not to, she found herself falling for him.
“I don’t think it can ever really be too late. Do you?”
“I suppose not,” she said, sounding resigned. “I had that once, you know. With your dad.”
“Yeah?”
“It wasn’t for very long, but—while it lasted—it was pretty awesome.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. Sorry that all went away.”
“I’m not.” Her eyes shone warmly beneath that earth-caked mask. “Not sorry for any of it. And you want to know why?”
Hope waited.
“Because I got something wonderful out of it. Two somethings wonderful. You and your sister.”
…
Afternoon teatime was much more fun than the meeting with Eleanor, owing in part to the fact that Grandmother Margaret served chilled glasses of sherry before the tea. She’d had tiny finger sandwiches and a variety of puff pastries and petit fours brought in as well.
A gorgeous spread had been laid out on the dining room sideboard and table, and everyone had filled small plates with goodies and carried those, along with their sherry glasses, onto the back lawn, where a croquet course had been established.
Only Sofia wasn’t drinking, but nobody but Hope seemed to notice her slipping into the kitchen to fill her sherry glass with ginger ale instead of the alcoholic libation.
They divided into two teams, with Margaret, Hope, and Sofia playing on one side and Elsa, Sally, and Ava playing on the other. The midafternoon weather was absolutely perfect and sunny, with a warm breeze blowing off the water, causing everyone to hang on to their hats.
At Margaret’s insistence, they’d all worn dresses and “bonnets” as she called them, and she kept a neat selection of them in her ample walk-in closet upstairs. When they’d convened for their tea party, she’d invited the other women to join her upstairs in her master suite so they could select a whimsical hat to wear. Hope was sorry that Jackie was missing this.
Grandmother Margaret smacked a ball with her mallet, ramming it through a tunnel of wire horseshoe-shaped hoops.
“Nice shot, Grandmother!” Sally cried, and the others all agreed. She turned to Hope with a sunny grin. “I saw the pic of the meeting with the wedding planner you put up on Instagram. How did everything go?”
“Oh, uh…really good. There are a few little hiccups, but nothing we can’t work out.”
“I think it’s great that you’re posting updates.”
“Yes,” Ava said. “She even got a video of the men out sailing earlier.”
“Well, that’s fun,” Sally answered just as Hope gave Ava the side-eye.
“I know,” Sofia said. “Why don’t you get a pic of all of us wearing our hats?”
Margaret nodded happily. “That’s a delightful idea. Here, hand me your phone. I’ll get the rest of you, and then we can switch.”
Hope’s heart pounded. No. No, no, no. No. She could not give her phone to Grandmother Margaret—or anyone else, really. What if her contact list accidentally popped up with Jackie on it?