It was almost seven by the time they arrived in Duchess County. Light was falling out of the sky, the dipping sun casting an orange glow over the lake. Brooke had been there before to visit the Rhinebeck Antiques Fair for its lovely old chests and gilt mirrors, and loved the area’s raw natural beauty.
‘This place certainly smells good,’ laughed Brooke, breathing in a cool fresh scent of mist and freshly mown grass through the open window. They came off the road and through a pair of white gates, down a long gravel drive curling around the lake, framed by horse chestnut trees bursting with their long ivory flowers. At the end of the drive was a short pier where a small motor launch was moored.
‘Is it across the lake?’ asked Brooke, excitement in her voice. They all climbed out of the car and up onto the pier, David taking Brooke’s hand to help her on. It smelt of linseed oil. The boat took ten minutes to chug across the lake, finally turning into a bay dominated by a huge white colonial house. Brooke gasped.
‘Isn’t it spectacular?’ grinned Alessandro, spreading his arms dramatically. ‘Now, when we get there you’ll see it’s a little rundown, so I want you to use your imagination.’
‘I quite like the fact it’s not too perfect,’ said David as they swung into the dock.
Brooke gave a small laugh. ‘Is that how your mother will see it?’
‘She’ll like it if we do,’ he said, not sounding entirely convinced by his statement. ‘Anyway, I love the location. It’s private.’
Alessandro clapped his hands together. ‘My thoughts exactly, darling. The paparazzi are going to be all over this wedding, so we have to do what we can to keep everything secure. This is the ideal solution. I’ve even had a word with the local sheriff, who has kindly agreed to enforce a no-fly zone over the lake for the wedding, so paparazzi helicopters can forget it. Now, David, I know your mother wanted a church wedding …’
‘Cathedral,’ smiled Brooke.
‘But, I’ve already spoken to Reverend James, the pastor from your family’s local church. He baptized two generations of your family, I believe? Well, he’s happy to officiate here, which should please your mother.’
Alessandro turned to Brooke and touched her arm. ‘And you, my darling, I know you wanted something intimate, but—’
‘But it’s beautiful,’ interrupted Brooke. ‘Big, but beautiful.’
They walked up through the gardens from the jetty and into the house. The building was even more impressive close to, and the entrance hall was huge, with vaulted ceilings soaring forty feet above them.
‘Wow,’ said David simply.
Alessandro held Brooke’s shoulders and turned her around towards the lake. It was glowing a rippling orange as the sun sank.
‘Look over to the west side of the lake,’ said Alessandro, pointing to the lawns next to the formal gardens. ‘See how it slopes down? It’s a natural amphitheatre. I was thinking very simple cherry-wood pews, a carpet of petals as an aisle, and the vows being exchanged looking out over the water.’
Brooke was silent for a moment, picturing the scene.
‘What do you think, Brooke?’ asked David. When she turned towards him, there were tears in her eyes.
‘It’s just incredible.’
David pulled her close. ‘The bride gene surfaces,’ he whispered.
Alessandro walked a little way off, continuing his commentary like a tour guide. ‘The house used to belong to a very wealthy Manhattan family, in mining or something, I think. Now it belongs to an educational trust, but it’s been used for films in the past, one featuring Johnny Depp, can’t remember which. Anyway, don’t worry about the slightly tired exterior. My ex-boyfriend is a Hollywood set designer and we still speak. I think he can do something very special.’
David and Brooke exchanged a small smile at his rapid-fire monologue.
‘We don’t want to go too high concept, Alessandro,’ said Brooke. ‘No Gone with the Wind fantasy, okay?’
‘Well, if we’re thinking left-field with all this, I was wondering about a dusk wedding? We could line the path around the lake with torches and ferry you over to the ceremony in a little boat covered in iceberg rose petals.’
‘Alessandro,’ said Brooke, gently admonishing. ‘No drama, remember? Although, I do like the idea of getting married at this time of day. When is it available?’
‘Pretty much whenever,’ said Alessandro, flapping his hands vaguely. ‘A fall wedding would be magnificent. Can you imagine those trees over there glistening with scarlet leaves? Oh, but realistically a September wedding is way too tight. I mean, your dress is going to take three, four months minimum, more if we’re thinking lots of Lesage beading. I know one bride who had to put her wedding back because the embroidery was taking so long.’
‘Which leaves us with next spring or summer,’ said Brooke thoughtfully. ‘Winters will be vicious up here and I don’t want to make it too difficult for people to travel.’
‘We definitely wanted the wedding within the year,’ said David, looking at Brooke. ‘I don’t want this one to get away from me.’
Alessandro coughed politely. ‘Maybe I’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes,’ he said.
‘So what do you think?’ asked Brooke when Alessandro was out of earshot.
‘I love it.’
‘Oh honey, I’m so glad you said that,’ she gushed, her face lit up like a little girl’s. ‘It’s the perfect spring venue, isn’t it? I mean, smell that air. New beginnings.’
She could see David stifle a wry smile. He was too polite to laugh. He wrapped his arms around Brooke’s waist. ‘It’s perfect.’
‘It’s big though, isn’t it?’ said Brooke, biting her lip. ‘All that talk about amphitheatres.’
‘We have a lot of guests.’
‘Your parents have got a lot of guests,’ she said.
Brooke was a Pisces, a romantic; perhaps that’s what drew her to books. In her mind her wedding would have all the trappings of the fairy tale – the beautiful white dress, the huge cake – but she’d always thought of it as a private ceremony, conducted in front of people she knew and loved. The last thing she wanted was a circus.
‘Should we run off to City Hall and just do it?’ said Brooke impulsively.
David shook his head slowly. ‘You know we can’t do that.’
She looked at him and saw sadness in his eyes; it was the weight of expectation, and most of the time he wore it well. David might be a television reporter right now, but that was not where his future lay. Already he was being touted in serious magazines as a White House hopeful, despite having not a jot of political experience to his name. Their wedding would be talked about and written about for years to come; in many ways, it needed to be a circus, even if it was not a three-ring circus.
‘Honey, are you sure you’re ready for this?’ he asked softly.
She looked at his dark-blue eyes and couldn’t believe that out of all the women in