She gets up and starts pushing him toward the door. “Shoo. I have to get dressed. Now I’m not going to be just inappropriately dressed, but late, too.”
He rolls his eyes again and leaves the room.
Ten minutes later, Ella emerges, her make-up repaired, no evidence of her meltdown. Wearing navy tights, a blue and green tartan kilt-style skirt held in place with a giant brass safety pin, a white cotton button-down shirt with three-quarter sleeves, knee-high black boots, and her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, she is ready to go.
Ian’s eyes light up when he sees her. “I love the way you look, Ella, and so will my parents.” He holds out his hand. “Let’s go, baby.”
When they turn into the circular drive of the estate, Ian glances over to the passenger seat: Ella looks pale. “Butterflies?” he asks, smiling reassuringly.
“A whole swarm.”
He pats her hand. “Do not worry. I promise all will be fine.”
Faith is at the door to greet them. Ian’s mother is fairly tall, at 5’9” or thereabouts. She has auburn hair cut chin length and is very slender. Her eyes reflect a warm, fun personality. “Finally I get to meet Ella!” She rushes to them and pulls Ella into an effusive hug. “Ella, welcome to our home! I’m so thrilled… we’re all so thrilled to meet you. We’ve heard so much about you, all great things, naturally.”
“Thank you… and likewise.” Ella smiles brightly as Faith hugs her son, holding his face affectionately with both of her hands. “You look very happy, my beautiful boy.”
He smiles. “I am, Mom. Truly.”
Eyes lingering on his, Faith nods slowly. “Yes, you are. Come on in, you two.”
Trevor and Zoe sit in a small parlor just past the entrance hall. Ian’s father rises to greet them. He’s tall, about the same height as his youngest son, and his dark hair is liberally peppered with silvery gray. He casts friendly yet discerning eyes at the girl on his son’s arm.
“Ella, I presume?”
“Yes, not Dr. Livingstone.”
He smiles at her joke and extends his hand. “Charmed to meet you. Ian has told us much about you.”
Ella takes his hand in her icy one, trying and failing to quickly warm it before. “So I hear,” she says with a beaming smile. “Hello, Mr. Blackmon. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
Ian can tell both of his parents seem genuinely glad to meet his Ella. So far, so good. Now only Zoe is left.
Ian remembered Zoe’s reaction to his news when they met for lunch the day before. She’d already been seated at a center table when he arrived or he would never have been given accorded a public table. As soon as he greeted her, he’d spilled the beans. Her reaction was not terribly surprising, considering that his sister does everything in a big way.
“You’re marrying the author of a dirty book?” Zoe practically screamed the question.
Ian rolled his eyes. “You know, I was concerned that Ella’s book sales in this neighborhood weren’t adequate; thanks for seeing to that for me, Zoe.”
She had the good grace to instantly flush, looking around at all the other diners who were now gaping at them. “I’m sorry, Ian, but you took me by surprise. For God’s sake, when did this all happen?”
“This all being…?”
“Meeting, dating, asking to marry… you know, that kind of trivial detail.”
“I believe I told you that I knew the author way back when you were drooling over the novel. We became reacquainted a while ago, and it escalated from there. Wait until you meet her: you’ll love Ella and so will the rest of our family.”
“If you do, then I’m sure we all will.” She took a sip of her Chardonnay. “When will that meeting happen?”
“This weekend. We’re announcing our engagement and imminent wedding.”
Eyes narrowed. “How imminent?”
“June.”
“What? That gives us no time to prepare. We have to book a venue, a band, a wedding planner…”
“We? Actually we don’t. Ella and I would like to have the ceremony and reception at Mom and Dad’s estate. In June the weather will be nice and we’ll pitch a big tent in case of rain. I’ve already spoken with a few wedding planners and they all promise to squeeze us in—great publicity for them since the press release will make it to all the right places. The only thing you have to worry about is your dress.”
“Oh, you always take every last drop of fun out of everything, Ian.” She stuck out her tongue.
“Promise me you won’t do or say anything to embarrass Ella. Especially about her book.”