Chapter 23 - The Wedding Preparations
Back in Westport, the crisp autumn air gave way to a flurry of joyful activity as the estate transitioned from a quiet sanctuary into the epicenter of the most anticipated wedding in coastal Connecticut. The trauma of the Nantucket encounter evaporated the moment Nora walked back through the iron gates of Westport Manor, wrapped in the comforting embrace of Mrs. Higgins and surrounded by the vibrant, chaotic energy of wedding planning.
The grand ballroom of the manor was transformed into a temporary design studio. Swatches of heavy silk, antique lace, and velvet covered the long mahogany tables, while floral catalogs filled with white winter roses, cascading ivy, and deep evergreen boughs lay scattered everywhere.
Aunt Claire bustled into the room carrying a clipboard that looked like it had survived a war zone, her colorful silk scarf trailing behind her like a banner of triumph.
"Darling!" Aunt Claire announced, clapping her hands together. "The caterer from Boston just called. They want to confirm whether we’re doing a traditional four-course sit-down dinner or a grand winter feast with stations. I told them this is a Westport Manor wedding—we are doing both, naturally!"
Nora laughed, looking up from a stack of seating charts. "Claire, if we do both, our guests won't be able to dance. Liam already threatened to elope to Scotland if we have more than three tiers of cake."
"Let him try!" a deep, amused voice echoed from the doorway. Liam walked in, shedding his heavy wool overcoat and tossing his car keys onto the entry table. He looked exhausted from a long week in court, but his green eyes immediately softened the moment they landed on Nora. "I didn't survive a grueling cross-examination today just to be bullied by my own future aunt-in-law's catering demands."
"It's not bullying, darling, it's tradition," Aunt Claire shot back with a wink, bustling past him toward the kitchens. "Now, if you two will excuse me, Mrs. Higgins and I have to inspect the champagne cellars. A December wedding requires vintage French bubbly, not local cider!"
As Claire bustled away, leaving the room with a warm, echoing clatter, Liam walked over to Nora’s chair. He reached down, pulling her up into his arms and burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of vanilla and cedar.
"You smell like heaven," Liam murmured against her skin. "How did you survive today?"
"Better than you think," Nora murmured, resting her hands against his chest. She recounted the Nantucket meeting in crisp, concise detail, omitting none of the desperation in Evelyn’s voice or the hollow defeat in Richard’s eyes.
Liam pulled back, looking down into her face with fierce, unwavering pride. "Did they threaten legal action? Do I need to prep an injunction?"
"No," Nora smiled, shaking her head. "Mr. Avery already put an airtight seal on the trust months ago. They have no legal standing, and they know it. They just wanted to see if guilt would work. When it didn't, they realized the door was locked for good."
"Good," Liam said softly, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Because your parents don't deserve a single thought in this house. This house belongs to us. To the future."
"Speaking of the future," Nora said, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she tapped a finger against his chest. "We still have one major item left on the wedding checklist."
"And what’s that?" Liam asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Writing our vows. And I happen to know you haven't started yours."
Liam groaned playfully, dropping his head back. "Cross-examining hostile witnesses is a walk in the park compared to putting my entire soul into poetic prose for two hundred guests."
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"You have two weeks, counselor," Nora laughed, stepping back and holding up her hand so the sapphire ring caught the afternoon light streaming through the tall French doors. "Make it good."
***
