Under the Same Stars(91)

“Austin, why don’t you take this one?” Dad suggested.

“Katie, they have nothing to do with the ruby,” Austin said. “The ruby is mine.” He scratched the back of his head a little sheepishly. “Grandma left it to me to give to the woman I wanted to marry—and that has always been you.” He paused. “But you never asked to see it, and it’s a little out there, so I was worried you’d hate it. Your ring”—he pointed to the diamond—“was something I knew you’d love.”

“And I do love it, Austin,” Katie said. “Because it’s from you.” Her voice cracked. “But I suppose I wanted a piece of it to be from your family, too.”

We failed her, I thought, stomach sinking. We absolutely failed her.

“Catherine Marie Gallant,” I said, “the only person you need to be ‘special enough’ for is Austin, but you’re special to me, too. You did try to open yourself up to us, but I didn’t try to see you—or I didn’t try my best. Even when you asked me to be one of your bridesmaids. When we played truth or dare at our sleepover, and I heard about the midnight Wawa Icees, I thought that was the coolest thing ever, and I should’ve told you that.” I took a breath. “You also care so much about the people in your life. Thank you for picking up the phone at four a.m. and taking me to the hospital—you yelling at that nurse for ice will go down in history as one of the greatest moments in my life.” I smiled when she laughed a little. “And I know you meant well when you asked Marco to be my shadow. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that you just wanted to protect me.”

Katie reached up to wipe her eyes.

“Katie, you give me a novel every year for Christmas,” Dad said. “I have grown to adore your insightful and pithy annotations in the margins—they feel like secrets between us.” He smiled. “I also told every single client of mine that my future daughter-in-law graduated from UChicago with her MBA.”

“And I have always had a soft spot for you,” Da said. “You remind me of my mother. Pearl was a colorful character.” He nodded out the window. “She would take polar plunges in the pond whenever she thought autumn had officially turned to winter.” He smiled. “But she was also reserved and quietly remarkable with her innate kindness and cleverness.” He reached to squeeze Katie’s hands. “You are more than special enough, Katie. You are family.”

Katie dissolved into tears. “I want to marry Austin,” she said, choked up. “I want to marry Austin more than anything, but I hate this wedding. That’s why I’ve been so upset about it, and horrible to you, Austin. It isn’t me at all.”

“Then who is it?” I asked.

“My parents,” Katie answered. “Mostly my mom. She and I used to pretend-plan my dream wedding when I was little, and she refuses to accept that what I wanted then—Christmas at the country club with a million guests—is not what I want now. Even my dress…”

Uh-oh, I worried. Looks like a pastry?

“What would you like now?” Austin asked, as if the Gallants hadn’t already spent like a hundred thousand dollars on this blessed event. “What is your dream wedding today?”

Katie smiled sadly. “You know.”

My brother smiled back, nodding. “The invitations.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, then looked at my parents and me. “I commissioned and helped design the wedding invitations behind my parents’ backs—”

“Wait, that was you?” I asked. “Tally-Ho in her tartan blanket, the Christmas tree barn, and the frozen pond watercolor? I thought Austin gave the artist the vision for the invitations.”

“Nope,” my brother said proudly. “That was all Katie.”

“I love your home,” she said. “Connecting with you was challenging, but I immediately felt wrapped into this magical, timeless place. It always feels like a warm hug every time I pull up the driveway.” She sighed. “I really wanted the wedding to be that way, too.”

“I think it still can be,” I said, excitedly sitting up in my chair. “Or, at least, a piece of it can.” I turned to my parents. “Is it too late to get the deposit back on the rehearsal dinner venue?”

“Yes,” Dad said, then waved his hand. “But by all means, speak now.”

I grinned and did.





Winter





Twenty-Six


I was still in a boot by December, but I could officially put weight on my ankle again. “No, don’t even think about it,” Marco said when I tried to help Austin and him move Dad’s antique rolltop desk. “You aren’t allowed to lift high-impact, heavy stuff yet.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” I asked. “Everything here is high-impact.”

“Supervise!” Da called. “Visualize!”

It was December 13, and everything in the Cheval Collective’s barn was either being moved upstairs or stored in our garage. We had other plans for the office tonight.

“Should we take the current listings down?” Amanda asked, eyeing one Realtor’s FOR SALE board on the wall. “And leave the artwork?”

“Definitely.” I nodded. Dad had an impressive art collection, all classic oil paintings featuring what else? Horses. “I think the art will go well with the wreaths.”