“I can’t believe how beautiful you look,” Nick whispered when Rachel reached his side.

Rachel, too moved to say anything, simply nodded. She looked into the kind, beautiful, sexy eyes of the man she was about to marry and wondered whether this was all a dream.

• • •

After the ceremony, as the wedding guests adjourned to a reception inside the music pavilion, Eleanor sidled up to Astrid and began her commentary. “The only thing missing from that service was a good Methodist pastor. Where is Tony Chi when you need him? I didn’t really care for that we-are-all-nature Unitarian minister. Did you see he was wearing an earring? What sort of kopi-license* minister is he?”

Astrid, who hadn’t spoken to Eleanor since her Apocalypse Now–style arrival the day before, gave her a sharp look. “Next time you plan on plying my child with a gallon of ice cream, you have to take him for the rest of the day. You have no idea how long it took us to pry him off the ceiling.”

“Sorry, lah. But you knew I had to find out about the wedding. See? It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

“I suppose so. But you could have spared everyone so much heartache.”

Refusing to be any more contrite, Eleanor tried changing the subject. “Hey, did you help Rachel choose her dress?”

“No, but doesn’t she look lovely?”

“I find it a bit plain.”

“I think it’s exquisitely simple. It looks like something Carole Lombard would have worn to a dinner party on the French Riviera.”

“I find your dress much more striking,” Eleanor said, admiring Astrid’s cobalt blue halter-neck Gaultier outfit.

“Aiyah, you’ve seen me in this a dozen times.”

“I thought I recognized it! Didn’t you wear it to Araminta’s wedding?”

“I wear it to every wedding.”

“Why on earth do you do that?”

“Don’t you remember Cecilia Cheng’s wedding years ago, when people couldn’t stop talking about my dress in front of her? I felt so bad, I decided from that day on to always wear the same dress to every wedding.”

“You’re a funny one. No wonder you get along with my son, with all his funny ideas.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Auntie Elle.”

• • •

The sunken garden behind the music pavilion had been transformed into an al fresco ballroom. Hundreds of candles in antique crystal orbs sparkled in the eucalyptus trees surrounding the garden, while old-fashioned klieg lights cast a silver-screen glow onto the dance floor.

Astrid leaned on the stone balustrade overlooking the garden, wishing her husband could have been here to dance with her under the moonlight. The phone inside her minaudière gave a quick buzz, and she smiled, thinking Michael must have just read her mind and pinged her. She got out her phone eagerly and found a text message:

Hope you’re enjoying the wedding. Guess what? Had to come to San Jose on business. If you’re staying in CA for a few days, let’s meet up. Maybe San Francisco? I can send my plane to pick you up. There’s an Italian place in Sausalito I know you’d love.