Kiss the Bride (9 page)

Delaney crossed the bridge onto Galveston Island and traveled the main thoroughfare. At the next red light, she consulted her notes for the correct address. Lucia’s place was several blocks north of the beach.

When she turned onto Seawall Boulevard, the sight of the Gulf of Mexico made her smile. Her mother hated Galveston, with its scandalous island history and touristy
atmosphere, precisely the two things Delaney loved most about the town.

She found the adorable old Victorian residence without any problem. The lawn, while trimmed short, was not landscaped with any particular design in mind. A hedge here, a flower bed there, a clump of coconut-bearing palm trees thrown in.

The house was painted an outdated color of canary yellow and trimmed in powder blue. Wind chimes dangled from the porch and pink flamingos decorated the yard. Whimsical, kitschy, and cute, but definitely not for the more upscale clientele willing to pay top dollar for an island retreat. Delaney took out her notebook and jotted:
work on curb appeal.

She parked in the driveway beside a white ten-year-old American-made sedan and hurried up the sidewalk. Before she even had a chance to knock, the door was thrown open, revealing Trudie Klausman dressed in a pink Bermuda shorts set and a bright red fedora and beside her stood a kind-faced woman in her early seventies. She wore a floral-print housedress covered with a well-worn, faded blue gingham apron.

The sight of the woman conjured images in Delaney’s mind of chocolate chip cookies and pastries made from scratch with loving hands. Lucia looked like the grandmother Delaney had always longed for, but never had. Her mother’s mother had died before Honey had even married her father. And her father’s mother had been infirm with a debilitating illness, living the remainder of her years in a private care facility. Delaney had never known her grandmother when she’d been spry and healthy.

“It’s so good to see you,” Trudie said. “This is my friend Lucia. Lucia, meet Delaney Cartwright.”

She held out her hand to Lucia, but the elderly woman ignored her outstretched palm and instead enveloped her in an embrace that smelled like vanilla extract and lavender soap. “Welcome to my home, Delaney. It’s so nice to meet you. Trudie’s told me so many wonderful things about you.”

A glow of warmth at the woman’s friendliness stole through her. After meeting Lucia, she wanted the job more than ever. “Thank you, Mrs. Vinetti. I’m honored that you’re considering hiring All the World’s a Stage.”

“Please, call me Lucia.”

“Lucia it is.” Delaney smiled.

“Come inside,” Lucia invited. “I can’t wait to see what you think of the house.”

In true Victorian fashion the rooms were small, but plentiful. While the house was exceptionally clean, and the woodwork phenomenal, it was a little worse for the wear. Fifty-two years of family living jam-packed the house with knickknacks and photographs and keepsakes.

It looked as if Lucia never threw anything away, and apparently a lot of people had given her many things over the years she felt obligated to display. Her homey style, while wonderful for living in, was too jumbled for enticing buyers. Nothing was cohesive. Not design or color schemes. Not furniture style or window treatments. If Lucia were to show the house in its present state, potential buyers would see it as overcrowded, old-fashioned, and out of step.

Delaney, however, loved it.

Lucia’s house presented her first real decorating challenge. Her mother’s friends and acquaintances were the kind of women who redecorated every few years. They were well aware of trends and fashions. Staging their
homes for sale had usually consisted of little more than rearranging furniture for the best layout or bringing bits of nature indoors to create a breezy feel or simply giving the place a good cleaning.

“Trudie tells me you’re engaged to be married,” Lucia said.

“Yes, August fourth.”

“That’s wonderful.” Lucia beamed. “How did you and your fiancé meet?”

“We’ve known each other since we were small children. Before that really. Our mothers met in Lamaze class.”

“So you don’t really have a story about how you two first laid eyes on each other?” Trudie asked.

“No,” Delaney admitted. As far back as she could remember, Evan had been there. Like a security blanket.

“It’s almost as if you’re marrying your brother, huh?” Trudie asked.

“No, no.” Delaney forced a laugh. Trudie’s statement disturbed her because her relationship with Evan
was
more like brother and sister than passionate lovers. “It’s nice. Marrying someone you know so well.”

“I guess I could see it. Built-in trust and all that,” Trudie said. “But I’d be afraid I’d miss the sparks of really falling madly in love.”

“This window seat is adorable, Lucia,” Delaney said, purposefully directing the conversation off herself as they entered one of the bedrooms on the first floor that had been converted into a library.

Bookcases lined the walls. Delaney took a peek at the titles. Georgette Heyer, Jane Austen, Mary Stewart, Daphne du Maurier. Many of the same books that lined her own shelves at home.

“My Leo made it for me,” Lucia said with a sigh in her voice. “So I could curl up and read and still look outside to keep an eye on the children chasing butterflies in the backyard flower garden.”

“The window seat is definitely the highlight of this room,” Delaney said, relieved that she’d seemed to have sidetracked Trudie from talk of romance.

Lucia ushered her down the hallway, Trudie bringing up the rear. “And here’s the kitchen. I raised six children of my own here and then my four grandchildren, after my daughter-in-law died and my son, Vincent, needed help with the little ones. They’re all big ones now, but they come back to visit me often.”

Delaney surveyed the room.

The wallpaper was faded. It would have to be replaced. The appliances were all circa the mid-eighties. The dining table was even older than the appliances and bore the scars of too many children banging on it with silverware and toys. The linoleum was peeling in the corner by the refrigerator, and there was a burn mark the size of a saucepan bottom on the Formica countertop.

“This is the heart of the house,” Delaney breathed, surprised at the nostalgia welling up inside her. But that was silly. How could she be nostalgic for something she’d never had? She wished with all her might she could have grown up in such a home where kids were allowed to spill and sprawl and their growth spurts were marked in colored pencil on the wall beside the back door.

She immediately felt disloyal to her own family at such a thought. She’d had all the privileges the Cartwright money could buy. But that had included hired cooks and maids. She missed the boisterous camaraderie of cousins and siblings, of the numerous aunts and uncles and
grandparents that this house clearly boasted. The Vinettis had what Delaney had always longed for. A close-knit, extended family.

“For sure,” Trudie said. “This is where the family congregates when they visit. And it can get pretty rowdy in here, with all the laughing and teasing and eating. Lucia’s an excellent cook, and she makes the best Stromboli you’ll ever put in your mouth.”

“So what do you think?” Lucia asked. “What needs to be done? Can you give me an estimate for what this might cost?”

“Just let me jot down a few notes.”

“Sit,” Lucia invited. “I’ll make coffee and we’ll have some tiramisu I baked this morning.”

Delaney sat, took her calculator and her notepad from her purse, and crunched numbers while Lucia served up espresso and the ladyfinger cake.

Lucia settled in across from Delaney, anxiously pleating her apron with her fingers.

“I have some good news and some bad news.” Delaney took a sip of her coffee. “Which would you like to hear first?”

“Oh, definitely I want the good news first,” Lucia said.

“You have a beautiful home. I can feel the love in every room. Once we get it in shape, it’s going to sell very easily.”

“And the bad news?” Lucia gnawed her bottom lip.

Delaney longed to tell her that there was no bad news. That this warm, welcoming home was absolutely perfect as it was. But unfortunately, in a competitive real estate market, that simply wasn’t the truth. “Trudie tells me you’re on a limited budget.”

Lucia nodded.

“In order to get the top asking price, I’m afraid you’re going to have to invest about twenty-five thousand dollars
in getting the house fixed up before we’re ready to start staging it.”

Delaney saw the hope fracture out of Lucia’s face. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Could you borrow it until the house sells?”

“I was going to borrow the down payment for the Orchid Villa condo so I didn’t lose my chance at getting the unit across the courtyard from Trudie. I don’t have enough collateral for both loans,” she said.

“Don’t give up yet. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” Delaney reached across the table to touch the woman’s hand. And then she had a brilliant idea that would give both of them what they wanted.

One of the programs on a cable home improvement channel,
American Home Design
, was running a contest to find the best home makeovers. The rules were simple. Send in “before” and “after” videos of your home improvement project. The winning entry would be selected for the most improved space. She had seen the advertisements on television, but she had never entered because she’d never made over a place with as much potential as Lucia’s.

Now, with Lucia’s home as her ace in the hole, even if she just made the finals, it would take her fledgling business to a whole new level and launch her career. Thinking about the potential got Delaney excited.

“Do you think your children and grandchildren and nieces and nephews would be able to pitch in to help you get the place ready?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, yes. Especially my grandson Nick. He’s an undercover cop for the Houston Police Department, but he injured his leg on the job and he’s been off work.”

“But can Nick do the work with an injured leg?”

“What he can’t do, his brothers can.”

“Good, good. Here’s my plan.” Quickly, Delaney told them about her idea for entering Lucia’s house in the
American Home Design
contest. “If your family can provide the labor in place of my usual crew, I’ll be willing to waive my fee until after the house sells. All you would have to pay for are the supplies.”

“Yes!” Lucia clapped her hands. “I love it. It’s the perfect solution.”

“Are you sure your family will be on board? Especially the grandson you mentioned? It sounds like most of the burden will rest on his shoulders.”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Trudie interjected. “His truck just pulled up in the driveway.”

“Come meet him,” Lucia said.

Her mind lighting up with ideas, Delaney followed Lucia back into the living room. She couldn’t wait to get started.

Footsteps sounded on the front porch. A man’s voice rang out, “Nana, I’m here. Who does the swanky car in the driveway belong to?”

Delaney was standing with her hands clutched behind her back when she realized Lucia and Trudie had slipped out of the room and left her standing there all alone.

Where had they gone?

She turned her head to look, but before she had much time to ponder this question, the door opened and Lucia’s grandson walked over the threshold.

He drew up short the second he spied her.

Their eyes met.

Delaney’s heart stilled, and she felt a crazy, out-of-control sense of utter serenity.

Together, they gasped in one simultaneous breath.

“Oh, it’s you.”

W
hat’d I tell you?” Trudie whispered to Lucia. “I knew it. They’re smitten.”

“It seems like they already know each other,” Lucia said. “Imagine that.”

They were secreted in the small closet underneath the staircase. Lucia looked at the shelves around her, crowded with memories. It hit her. This was going to be a huge undertaking, clearing out a lifetime of living. The closet door was open, giving then a great and completely undetected view of Nick and Delaney.

Lucia had to agree, her friend was right. There was no denying the combination of surprise, delight, confusion, and distress on the young people’s faces as they stared at each other.

“It’s the whammy,” Lucia whispered. “The way they are looking at each other is exactly the way I felt when I first saw Leo.”

“Toldja.” Trudie giggled gleefully.

“Delaney is so beautiful,” Lucia breathed.

“And your Nicky is quite handsome in that rough,
tough way of his. They’re going to give you the most gorgeous great-grandchildren.”

“Let’s not put the cart before the horse,” Lucia said. “Remember, Delaney’s engaged to someone else, and Nick’s ego is still smarting over what Amber did to him.”

“Yeah.” Trudie sighed. “There is that. But what’s a good romance without a little conflict?”

As Lucia and Trudie spied on the couple, Delaney glanced from Nick to her wristwatch. She tapped the face of it, shook her wrist, and then looked again before holding it up to her ear.