Pictures took well over an hour. While Zoe enjoyed the fun and banter of the moment, she couldn’t help but wonder how everything with the food was going.
Wyatt had recruited several of the track kids to don black pants and white shirts to serve.
Felix had taken the liberty of directing a cameraman to ensure a proper wedding video as his gift to the bride and groom.
“This is lovely, Zoe. Exactly the kind of thing that isn’t being done on any of the culinary shows.”
“There is more to a wedding than food.”
Felix pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Say that to them.”
The them he spoke of were the wedding guests destroying the appetizers.
She’d sampled them herself and knew Ernie and Tiffany had brought their A game. She made a mental note to pay it forward when life settled down.
Thinking of calm had her doing another scan of the guests mingling outside of the tent.
She was the only Brown in attendance.
It pained her at the same time it relieved her. The last thing any of them needed was pushy brothers or ex-con fathers. Her job on this day was to shelter Mel from anything ugly and make sure the food was something River Bend would talk about for years.
Since the maid of honor had a sidearm strapped to her thigh, Zoe figured Jo had Mel taken care of.
Luke snuck up beside her, placed an arm around her waist. “It’s killing you, isn’t it?”
“What?” She glanced over his shoulder at the catering tent.
“C’mon. They don’t need us here any longer.” Luke pulled her away from the photographer and toward the reception tent.
Zoe felt her pulse returning to normal the closer she got.
She was vaguely aware that Felix followed and snapped his fingers in the air. At what, she wasn’t sure. Her focus was linear.
Check the food.
Was it hot?
Did the cream sauce survive the drive over?
Did they need Miss Gina’s kitchen for more than a working sink?
She buzzed around the servers and behind the serving station.
The cream sauce survived . . . it wasn’t hot enough outside to wilt the lettuce for the salads.
She sampled everything. When she reached the Italian dressing, she found a problem.
“Tiffany?”
With a wave of a hand, Tiffany was by her side.
“What’s it missing?”
They used a tiny, straw-like siphon for Tiffany to sample.
She tasted it twice . . . “Oregano.”
“Exactly!” Zoe waved Tiffany to follow over.
In high heels that had no place traipsing around a yard, Zoe led Tiffany to a garden on the side of Miss Gina’s inn.
She pointed. “Do what you can with what we have. Better to run out of something fabulous than serve something forgettable.”
Tiffany moved beyond the small fence meant to keep the dog from digging up their efforts.
When Zoe turned, Felix and Luke stood beside her, and a cameraman had the lens focused on her, recording.
She looked at both of them like they were crazy. “What are you doing? That dressing needs to get into the kitchen for Tiffany to fix.” It was her turn to snap her fingers. “Let’s go. We don’t have much time.”
Jo noticed the moment Zoe pulled away, with Luke and Felix standing over her.
Jo stood to the side, watching over Mel as she and her brand-new husband posed for pictures that would someday make their way over a mantel.
Wyatt lifted Hope into his arms and made sure there were plenty of family pictures of the three of them.
A moment of nostalgia hit her, watching the photographer snap that shot.
Her father had kept a cherished photo of the three of them on his desk. Jo’s mom, before she’d died, her dad, and Jo at an age not too far from Hope’s.
They’d smiled for the camera . . . a moment frozen in time.
Only someone took that away. Twice.
Jo had to look away, and when she did, she felt eyes on her.
Her senses heightened, and the weight of the gun strapped just above her knee reminded her she wasn’t defenseless.
Guests filled the lawn from every corner.
Many were looking at her. Probably because she had a shit-ton of makeup on and a dress that defined her as a woman and not a cop.
She stretched her neck.
She liked the cop on the inside.
The girlie girl all dressed up . . . not so much.
After a successful dinner, the dishes were cleared, and Zoe could finally breathe.
Dessert consisted of piles of tiny delicacies, appreciated by everyone.
The cake was the only culinary taste not created by Zoe and her staff. The pastry chef in charge, however, made a point to deliver the cake herself. When she did, she asked Zoe’s opinion and floated with her praise.
Zoe posed for a picture with the woman and couldn’t help feeling a little self-pride.
Mel had opted for a DJ. Fog had a tendency to sock in as the day wore on, which would muffle live music and annoy those trying to enjoy the wedding party.
Day slowly turned into night.
Lights that belonged in the local Christmas tree lot in December lit up the space between the inn and the tent.
Inside the tent, there were table centerpieces with candles, lights propped up on the sides, and several massive glowing balls in the center.
For most of the night and pictures, Jo had been paired up with Luke, since he was taking the best man position.
Zoe stood beside Mark, Mel’s brother, and smiled.
Yet when Mel and Wyatt had their first dance, and Wyatt showed his father had taught him how to move, it was time for the wedding party to join them.
Zoe glanced toward Mark, who was already grabbing Jo’s hand.
She laughed and made her way into Luke’s arms. “You planned that,” she whispered.
“I’m tired of seeing another man holding what’s mine.”
Zoe stopped midstride to the dance floor. “What’s yours?”
He hesitated, tugged her close. “You have a problem with that?”
With someone other than Luke . . . maybe.
She bit her bottom lip and snuggled closer.
People were watching but she didn’t care.
She placed her head on Luke’s shoulder and let him lead her through a song she was fairly certain played at their high school prom.
The music shifted and someone tapped Luke’s shoulder.
Tickled, Zoe let Mr. M lead her in a dance.
“You did a great job.”
“You liked the food?” she asked.
He patted his stomach. “A little of Audrey’s, too, I’m afraid.”
The excitement of that simple feat wasn’t something Zoe could completely describe.
Making things right . . . making people happy was something she’d been born to do. It took leaving River Bend to realize she could and returning to River Bend to make it count.
Mr. M had some serious moves . . . he spun her when others were just swaying to the music.
She laughed and kept up, and when the music softened, Mr. M leaned in close enough so only she could hear. “You’re like a daughter to me, Zoe . . . it makes my heart full to see you happy.”
Instead of letting the tears that suddenly filled her eyes fall, she rested her head on his chest and let him lead her in a slow dance. When he pulled away, she kissed his cheek.