“Let’s go out on the front lawn. The dappled light is beautiful there,” Penny directed, as if she had scouted the location on her way in. “Oh, and please don’t post anything until we get our photos back from the Empire State Building later this week. Chase thought of everything, even a photographer. Remember, when it comes to weddings, the bride posts first!” Penny cooed, though it came out as a warning.

“I think the bride goes first from now on in everything,” George said, trying to recover from his previous comment, but only generating more cringe. Abigail thought he looked like he needed another nap.

Penny nodded. “That’s sweet, George. So sweet . . . and true.”

Sarah and Abigail snapped their shots and there wasn’t an unflattering one in the bunch. After Penny and Chase approved the photos, the three remaining Blakemans stood on the front porch, waving as Chase and his future bride, hand in hand, hurried to catch the train back to the city to start their new, fully upgraded lives together.

Bride first, bride first, Abigail repeated in her head. As the mother of the groom, she would have to remember those words.

From the Desktop of Dearly Beloveds and Betrotheds

Dear B & Bs . . .

As promised, my short and not-too-sweet list of wishes for the Mothers of the Bride:

Be supportive, but not overbearing.

Offer opinions only when asked. Never offer criticism.

Just because you’ve written the check doesn’t mean you get to write the guest list. Be grateful for one table.

Channel your need for attention into something productive like learning calligraphy to address the envelopes.

Be the mother you wanted at your wedding.

Stay hydrated, but not with vodka martinis.

Enjoy the accomplishment that is your adult daughter.

You won’t regret looking your best on the big day. But your daughter will be the most beautiful one at the wedding.

Never, ever wear white.

Repeat as needed: not my wedding, not my wedding.

Big Kiss & Wedding Bliss,

Your Aunt B

Chapter 3
The Reveal

The Mother of the Bride

Alexa Diamandis pondered who to tell and when as she pounded out her daily walk on Butterfly Beach, a stretch of sand walkable from her house that took her back to her Patmos beginnings. Ever since she was a little girl, she worked out the sticky details of her life with a brisk morning walk on the beach, followed by a swim in the sea when the weather allowed. And there was no more beautiful spot in the world to help her make sense of her reluctance about announcing Penny’s engagement than the slice of Montecito that was Butterfly Beach. The wild Pacific Ocean, the white sand sliver, the glamorous view of houses that ringed the cove, the impressive mountains that surrounded this bubble of luxury. She loved this special spot and had chosen to bring up her daughter here.