Linda was gone. What she might or might not have thought about Samantha expanding her dressmaking business didn’t matter anymore.
Sam had spent her entire life trying and failing to make her mother happy. Maybe, just maybe, it was time she focused more on doing what was necessary to make herself happy.
She felt as if an earthquake had just ripped through, shaking the foundation of everything she believed about herself.
She was talented. No matter what her mother might have said about dreaming too big, she wanted to take this chance.
More than likely, it wouldn’t lead to anything. So what? If she tried and nothing happened, she wouldn’t be any worse or better off than she was right now. She would still be in exactly the same situation, running a very successful boutique and creating custom gowns for a few select brides.
Margaret could clearly see her emotional turmoil. She squeezed Sam’s hand again. “You’ve been given a gift, my dear. I would never say you’re wasting it here because I don’t think that at all. You do wonderful work. But imagine what you might do if you looked outside of Haven Point!”
“You could be right,” she said warily.
“I am right. If you send me photos of a few of your favorite gowns you’ve created, I can deliver them to some select, well-placed friends. I can’t make any promises but I would utterly love the chance to help you try wedging a foot in the door.”
“Thank you. I would appreciate that very much,” she said before she could talk herself out of it.
“Oh, hurrah.” Margaret gave an exultant laugh and hugged her, champagne and all. Samantha gripped it aloft tightly so she didn’t spill all over Margaret’s dress, which she had worked so hard to alter.
“Before we leave town, we have to exchange contact info. I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear anything.”
She would at least have some connection with his family after they returned to England. She wasn’t sure if that would make things easier or harder. She cared about Ian’s family as much as she cared about him.
How had they all become so precious to her?
Henry came over just as Margaret released her.
“There you are,” he said, looking at his wife with so much love it made Samantha want to cry.
“Yes. Here I am. Is there a problem?”
He took her hand. “No problem at all. They’re about to start the dancing, that’s all. I’ll be taking our girl out for the traditional father-daughter dance and thought you might want to be there when I do. After that, of course, I’ll be looking for my favorite dancing partner.”
Margaret rolled her eyes a little. “With my bad knee, you know I can’t dance the way I used to.”
“I can’t, either. Which makes us perfect for each other,” he said, squeezing her hand.
To her chagrin, Samantha felt more tears gather at the sweetness between the two of them. It was a very good thing she had used waterproof mascara.
She had seen too few examples of seasoned romance in her life. Certainly not in her own childhood. She had very few memories of her own parents demonstrating love for each other.
She could recall her mother’s deep grief after her father killed himself but it seemed to have quickly shifted to anger and betrayal. Only a few months after her father’s death, her mother didn’t like to hear his name from anyone, especially Samantha.
Margaret and Henry were clearly still in love, despite having children in their thirties and despite the shared pain of losing one of those children. She found it sweet and tender but somehow edged with a bittersweet rind, like orange peels.
She desperately wanted this same kind of relationship with their son, something that would last through generations.
Instead, she had only a few days to savor her time with him. After that, all of them would be gone.
“I do hope you’ll save a dance for me,” Lord Henry said with that warm, fatherly smile she was coming to adore.
“I would be honored,” she told him. “For now, you should probably go find Gemma. She’ll be waiting for you.”
“I meant what I said. You’re going places,” Margaret told her as Henry started leading her toward the dance floor. “Send me those pictures.”
“I will,” she promised.
She might not be able to have Ian but she had other dreams that might still come true, with enough work.
It was small consolation, but consolation nonetheless.
HE COULDN’T REMEMBER a wedding he had enjoyed more. His own would certainly not even make the top twenty.
Ian moved around the dance floor with his daughter, savoring the night and the stars and the music.
Everything about the event was magical, from the setting to the flowers to the company.
He was beyond happy Gemma had found a man who fit her so perfectly and brought out the best in his sister. She had been through so much and deserved every ounce of happiness she had found with Josh Bailey. He foresaw a future of joy and contentment for both of them.
“Dad! You’re not counting right.” Amelia sounded more exasperated than annoyed.
“Sorry. You know I’m not much of a dancer. When I have to dance, I mostly stand in one place and sway, I’m afraid. If you want true dancing, you may have to stick with your little brother. He seems to be slaying it.”
They both turned to admire Thomas, who was currently dancing with Samantha. Ian’s son was gyrating his little heart out while she mostly stood by and watched him with a delighted smile that seemed to arrow straight through to Ian’s own heart.
He adored that she seemed to love his children. He could tell it was genuine, too, not an act she was putting on in an effort to impress him.
“Weddings are fun,” Amelia said with a happy sigh. “Can we go to another one sometime
