Epilogue
Emma planted flowers there later that summer, and according to Willis, Sr., they bloom all year round. He sits beneath the old oak tree for hours whenever he visits and he visits as often as he can. He nearly gave me a heart attack the first time he tackled the climb, but it seems to have done him good. His heart hasn’t bothered him since.
I have to depend on his reports about the clearing because I don’t get up there as often as I’d like. Between unearthing rare books for Stan, visiting Uncle Andrew in Scotland, and shuttling the little Willises between cottage and mansion several times a year—and they say that D day was a big deal!—I’m kept pretty busy.
Not one single person was surprised by the news of our engagement, least of all Willis, Sr., who had placed a special order with his tailor immediately after hearing of my first visit to Arthur’s dome. “It has been a long-standing dream,” he explained, “to see my son married in a morning coat, and I thought that perhaps you, Lori, might be able to persuade him….” I did.
Miss Kingsley chartered flights to bring our Yankee guests over for the wedding, I baked the three-tiered cake from page 265 of the dog-eared cookbook, and the reception was held under the vicar’s new roof amid hundreds of blue irises. Reginald took it upon himself to preside over the bouquet of fragrant white lilacs that had arrived without a card. And I only wanted to smack Bill once the whole day, when he announced in stentorian tones that he was marrying me for my cookies. Archy Gorman’s interpretations of his remark sent Paul into paroxysms of glee and confused the Pym sisters no end.
Meg and Doug commissioned a portrait as our wedding present, which Meg unveiled with a flourish and a sneaky grin. The oil painting of the bearded knight in shining armor hangs above the fireplace in our living room now, and hardly anyone notices that he’s wearing glasses. And on our first anniversary a new blanket arrived, made from the finest Scottish wool and big enough to cover two.
Oh, and I guess I forgot to mention it, but instead of giving me an engagement ring when he proposed, Bill gave me a heart-shaped locket. Two different faces smile up at me when I open it, and the feelings they engender are about what you’d expect from perfect happiness.