One of them cackled as they passed.
Marci stared at the bird.
Was it possible these could be the same two gulls that had hung around months ago when she and Ben had had a less-than-cordial exchange in this very spot?
Ben slowed, and she glanced over at him. He, too, was eying the birds.
“That sounded like . . .” His voice trailed off.
“I know. Kind of weird, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. But what are the odds?”
“Slim to none—and I’m not going to waste another thought on laughing seagulls.” Marci lifted her face to the late-afternoon sun. “I’d rather give thanks for such a gorgeous day. November can be iffy, but this feels like summer.”
“The sun wouldn’t dare play hooky on such a beautiful bride.” Ben smiled at her as he resumed walking, the love in his eyes as bright as the illumination from the Fresnel lens in the Pelican Point lighthouse that had once offered a ray of hope to storm-tossed ships.
They continued past the neatly tended flower beds, kept weed-free by several area garden clubs, until he stopped at the base of the refurbished lighthouse.
“I never get tired of this view.” She slipped her arm around his waist and scanned the vast blue sea.
“And now it will be available for future generations to enjoy, thanks to a certain redhead I know.”
“Thanks to a lot of people—including you.”
“I was going to sell it.”
She lifted one shoulder. “A lighthouse didn’t fit into your plans seven months ago.”
“True. I thought it was a white elephant.”
“Understandable. But you did have a change of heart. Not only did you sell it for a bargain price, you’re serving on the board. And look what’s been accomplished.” She swept a hand behind the lighthouse as she gave the scene a slow sweep.
The white tent hosting their reception occupied the spot where construction would soon begin on a permanent banquet and hospitality facility featuring huge, vaulted windows that framed the lighthouse.
In the background, half hidden behind shrubbery, a parking lot was situated on adjacent lots purchased with excess crowdfunding money . . . far more than they’d expected, thanks in part to the lower price Ben had accepted for the lighthouse.
And closer at hand, a small structure designed in the style of traditional keeper’s quarters housed Greg’s office.
“It’s hard to believe how much we’ve done in a handful of months.” Ben completed his own perusal and refocused on her.
“I know. Greg told me a few days ago that he’s booking two years out.”
“He was an inspired choice for the job.”
“I agree. However . . . much as I’ve loved this project, I’m not in the mood to discuss business today.” She sidled closer. “I’m hoping you brought me out here to steal a kiss by the lighthouse that started it all.”
“That’s on my agenda. But there’s another item I want to take care of first. Give me one minute.” He bent down, swept his lips across her forehead, and pulled a key out of his pocket. “I need to retrieve a package that has your name on it.”
With a wink, he circled around to the front of the structure and disappeared from view—just as the band behind her launched into the classic strains of “Unforgettable.”
The corners of her mouth tipped up.
How appropriate.
Because the man who’d stolen her heart fit that description.
And no matter what surprise he was about to present to her, she already had the best gift of all.
Ben himself—for always.
Maybe every groom felt the same on his wedding day, but he really was the luckiest guy in the world.
Throat tightening, Ben picked up the box Greg had stashed in the lighthouse for him earlier today, slipped back outside, and circled around in the opposite direction.
His stunning bride was standing where he’d left her, gazing out to sea, her filmy veil floating on the breeze as it trailed from her upswept hair, the elegant, form-fitting lace gown that dipped into a deep V in the back showcasing her slender figure.
She looked perfect.
In fact, perfect was the ideal word to describe the woman he’d promised to love and cherish all the days of his life.
Not perfect as in flawless, of course. Like him, she had her faults and peccadillos.
But she was perfect for him.
And that was all that mattered.
As if sensing his scrutiny, she shifted toward him, the dipping sun casting a golden glow on her already radiant face. “Sneaking up on me, I see.”
“No. Admiring the view.”
“The view’s that way.” She motioned toward the sea.
“One view is—but I’m enjoying the best view.”
Laughter danced in her green irises. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“I’ll remember that.” He strolled toward her and held out the shoebox-sized package wrapped in shiny white paper and tied with a white satin bow.
“You already gave me a wedding present.” She touched the string of luminous pearls clasped around her neck.
“This is a bonus gift. One that has more sentimental than monetary value.”
“Now I’m intrigued.”
“Then I won’t keep you in suspense. I’ll hold it while you open.”
She dispensed with the wrappings in quick order.
“Oh . . .” She breathed the word as she gently touched the elaborate mother-of-pearl inlay on the lid of the mahogany box. “This is gorgeous.”
“There’s a story that goes with it.”
“I love stories.”
“I know. That’s why I thought you’d appreciate this.” He stroked a thumb over the edge of the box. “This started life in the mid-1800s as a case for a sextant. It was owned by a Captain Jeremiah Masterson and went with him on numerous voyages all over the world. He passed it on to his sole heir, a daughter who used it to store jewelry and keepsakes.”
“How did it end up in your hands?”
“Patience, dear wife. I’m getting to that.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m still working on that virtue.”
“No kidding.”
“Ha-ha.” She elbowed him and grinned. “Go on.”
“Masterson’s daughter married a fellow by the name of George Newton.”
Her eyes widened. “The Pelican Point lighthouse keeper in
