Page 14 of Nineteen Seventy-Six

“I never met your father, but the way Lizzy describes him, you two—”

Augustus pointed his gaze at Connor. “She didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

“Oh.”

Elizabeth jogged back up in her light blue dress, navigating the damp grass in satin heels. Without asking, she lifted Ana into her arms and commanded Augustus to go park the stroller by the tree. Before he could protest, she was off, Connor looking helplessly between them before following.

Irish Colleen saddled up beside him. “The decorations are beautiful.”

“Yeah.”

“Must be nice for you to be out of the house? With Ana?”

“I’ll feel better when she’s safe at home.”

“Now, Augustus,” Irish Colleen said, tone harkening back to the one used when attempting to convey the important life lessons of their childhood, “children need to be outdoors.”

“She’s not a child. She’s a baby.”

“She’ll be pale-faced and mealy-mouthed if you have your way.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“Like those kids whose parents hide them in attics, away from the world.”

“No one does that, Mama. You’re making that up.”

“Am I?”

Augustus couldn’t argue with his mother’s logic, which, in her mind, was irrefutable. She dealt in old wives’ tales and superstitions, never one to let facts get in the way of a story that might scare the insolent children into better behavior.

“Babies are far more resilient than you think,” she said, taking his arm. “If you knew how many times I’d dropped you on your head…”

“Mama!”

Irish Colleen smiled from the side of her mouth. She was actually making a joke. There was a first for everything. “Not really, but I did drop you once. I dropped all of you at some point. I also let you eat dirt and crawl around on dusty floors from time to time. You survived in spite of my criminal neglect.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She laughed. “It’s true!”

Augustus shook his head. “No way. Your floors were never dusty.”

Elizabeth stood on a chair and waved both arms over the crowd of wedding-goers making their way forward.

“Those chairs are white,” Maureen chided, appearing at Augustus’ right side, holding Olivia’s hand as the little one toddled at her side. Her husband wasn’t with her.

“Only Lizzy,” Irish Colleen muttered, still smiling as she let Augustus lead them to their seats.

Unlike this time the prior year, where Colleen feared the moment she would reveal to everyone she loved that she was in love and getting married, she was excited to introduce Noah to her circle of friends and family at the Sullivan-Livingston wedding. She beamed as she told and retold the story of how they met, where they fell in love. They exchanged glances when recalling how foolish love could be, and how wrong they were to ever think they could live without one another. She blushed as she held out her hand for others to admire Noah’s creative choice to overlay gold to the withering heather he’d used to declare his intentions.

All the women gushed over her stories. Chelsea elbowed Mason and lifted her brows in the most romantic parts, and Mason pretended not to take her meaning. Carolina and Isabella exchanged looks—they’d both married Sullivans, they knew the drill. Pansy and Kitty both remarked that they didn’t believe a word, through their jealous eyes and smiles that showed they were, in fact, happy for Colleen. They all promised to come visit with Amelia, who was spending the day with Kellan Jameson so Colleen and Noah could have a few hours with their friends.

It felt good, for once, to be the woman in the room with something to share other than her ambitions.

But what she desperately wanted was time alone with Rory and Carolina. She’d have to be very careful how she went about getting it, after Charles’ shakedown of Noah.

She found her chance at the reception. Charles had a few drinks in him and had occupied himself with several of the bridesmaids, taking his turns dancing with them and likely making plans with at least one of them for later.

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