It was time for Boop to embrace her inner Betty again, to pursue happiness without regret or guilt, as if she expected only good things to happen.
“I don’t want to leave,” Abe said. “I got a hotel room.”
Boop blushed.
“No, no.” Abe laughed a deep, sweet laugh. “Just so I can see you in the morning. And maybe the morning after that? Or is it too much?”
Boop gulped away her wishes as they became a reality. “It’s just right.”
Hannah knocked on the door and then opened it, poking her head outside. “Cake and ice cream are ready. We also have blueberry pie, shnecken, and there might be a Manhattan or two in here. It’s time to party like it’s 1951.”
Boop laughed. “We have a lot to celebrate.”
Reconnecting with Abe after almost seventy years had been the final puzzle piece to Boop’s life. This did not disparage the years in between; it simply made the picture whole.
If that wasn’t bashert, what was? Would Nannie agree it was meant to be? Why did Boop wonder when the answer no longer mattered?
What mattered was that Doris had been right all along: you’re never too old to find love and throw a good party.
EPILOGUE
HANNAH
A few months later
Dusk fluttered over South Haven like a sheer curtain dangling from the sky. A white frame tent, with the sides rolled down to mimic walls with windows, draped the back patio of the Stern family home. A dozen or so guests mingled under the tent beneath the sky, all swathed in fading sunlight and illuminated by flickering candles.
Hannah turned the front doorknob. Unlocked as usual. She tapped open the front door with her hip, and once inside, she pushed it closed with her foot. She set the box of burgundy dahlia corsages and thistle boutonnieres onto the arm of the sofa before lifting them again, eager to deliver each to its recipient. These flowers best matched fall sunsets.
Natalie walked in from the kitchen, her ankle-length dress with a handkerchief hem made her look like a princess, the way its soft skirt sashayed when she walked.
“How are things going here?” Hannah asked.
“A little hectic, but now that the heaters are set up it’ll all be fine. Everything is under control. You just get upstairs.”
“And Boop?”
“Your grandmother is amazing. You know that.”
Natalie spun and her skirt spun with her, which was the best part.
Hannah waddled through the living room and up the steps to the landing, where she stood and caught her breath. She held out her left hand, as she was prone to do, and the diamond sparkled. Marriage wouldn’t make Hannah complacent; it would make her even more determined to get it right. She had trouble believing there was ever a time she doubted Clark—or herself.
She’d relearn that lesson every day of her life if she had to.
Hannah couldn’t believe they’d planned a wedding in three months, but Peck persistence had paid off.
“Ready or not, here I come.” Hannah stepped inside her grandmother’s bedroom. Doris and Georgia were seated at the window.
Boop swiveled side to side and smiled as if she held the secret to life. Hannah supposed she did.
“Boop, you’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen,” Hannah said.
“We agree,” Doris said.
Georgia nodded.
Her grandmother’s skirt was the color of a ripe peach and fell to the middle of her calves in a cascade of silk chiffon. The matching shell reflected color onto Boop’s cheeks, not that she needed it. There was a natural glow to brides, even at eighty-five. Of course, that didn’t prevent Boop’s use of a shimmery lipstick. She was still Boop, after all. A rose-gold watch she had worn as a girl shifted and settled onto her wrist.
Something old.
Hannah held out the iridescent bugle-beaded jacket made to match Boop’s skirt and blouse. Boop had purchased her ensemble at Kleinfeld during their girls’ trip to New York. She’d slipped her arms into the sleeves. “It’s like buttah,” they’d said at the store, where they were crowded among shoppers with their entourages and tourists with their smartphones. But they were right. Like butter.
Something new.
Hannah removed her dress from the closet, slipped off her simple rose-colored maternity dress over her head, then reached into her bag and withdrew a strand of pearls.
“They’re beautiful,” Doris said.
Hannah dangled them in front of Boop. “Dad gave these to me when I turned eighteen. Will you wear them?” How many girls got to help their grandmothers on their wedding day and offer to loan them pearls? Like the necklace, Boop was a treasure.
Boop nodded. “I’d be honored.”
Hannah walked behind her grandmother and placed the strand over her head.
Something borrowed.
Someone knocked on the door. “We’re ready,” Stuart said.
How had Hannah even doubted for a moment that he was Pop’s son? He looked just like him. Everyone said so.
“Be down in a minute.” Hannah rifled through her purse, then motioned to the bubbes. “She still needs something—”
“No, I don’t.” Boop strolled to the window and opened her arms. Hannah walked to her and melted into her embrace. Georgia and Doris turned, and they all looked out the window.
And there it was.
The lake.
Something blue.
Hannah’s family’s South Haven roots entangled with the dunes’ spiky brambles, glistened in pieces of smooth beach glass, and surged from between the layers of the violet-, strawberry-, and saffron-colored sky. The stories—most accurate, some embellished, others lovingly invented—dwelt safely within her. She would share the stories with her children, who would share the stories with their children.
Hannah tugged away. Georgia and Doris stepped to the side, allowing Boop a moment alone with her lake. Then Hannah whispered, “It’s time to marry Abe.”
The sunset radiated around Boop, forming an aura of beauty and hope. She smirked like a girl anticipating a magic trick, but her eyes sparkled with generations of wisdom. Boop smoothed her dress from her waist to her hips, something Hannah had seen her do many times, something, perhaps, that reminded Boop of the curves beneath, how they had changed—but maybe how
