Page 128 of Save the Date
It was Patricia who finally broke the silence. “It’s spectacular.”
“It’s… it’s just so beautiful,” Brooke said, her voice breaking. She turned and hugged Libba. “I can’t believe you did all of this just for us.”
“Well, to be honest, it was for me too,” Libba said, rubbing Brooke’s back. “Just call it a labor of love.”
***
Their footsteps echoed in the high-ceilinged room. Cara craned her neck to see the exposed trusses and beams overhead. Sturdy industrial-looking galvanized light fixtures hung from thick ropes, illuminating the space below.
“Should we take off our shoes?” Patricia asked, already slipping out of her own Prada pumps.
“Not at all,” Libba said. She leaned down and ran a hand lovingly over the burnished wood floors. “These boards came out of a closed-down textile mill in Spartanburg. They’re old-growth pine. If you look carefully, you can see old grease stains and holes where machinery was bolted to the floor, and gouges and dents. I love them just the way they are, and Jack and Ryan agreed. The more beat up they get, the better they’ll look.”
“If you say so,” Patricia said, her tone implying that she thought otherwise.
“It’s a barn,” Libba said, chuckling. “A really expensive barn, but I didn’t want it too tarted up.”
“Look up there, Brooke,” Harris said, pointing to the gabled east end of the barn. “The old hayloft.”
“Harris and his high-school band used to practice up there,” Libba said. “Mitchell used to say the racket they made would make the neighbor’s cows go dry. Brooke, I bet you didn’t know you were marrying a musician.”
“I didn’t,” Brooke said.
“That’s because we sucked,” Harris said. “Called ourselves the Chiggers. We were trying to be badass, but mostly we were just bad. And asses.”
“I’ll bet you weren’t that awful.”
“Actually, they were,” Libba volunteered. She drew Marie aside and pointed again at the hayloft. “I had the guys reinforce the floors with steel beams, and that rail is reinforced too. Someday, my grandbabies will play up in that loft, just like Harris and Holly did, and their daddy before them.”
For a split second, Cara saw a tiny pucker form on Brooke’s smooth brow.
“Jack had a great idea,” Harris said. “He said we should put the DJ booth up there for the after-party.”
Brooke pointed at the sturdy ladder leading up to the loft. “But how would he get his equipment up that ladder?”
“If you open that door back there behind that partition, you’ll see how,” Libba said. “The guys put in a nice wide staircase. And underneath it, there’s a new bathroom too.”
Marie shook her head. “Libba, I’m just stunned at everything you’ve accomplished in such a short time.”
Cara was already pacing off the room, admiring the honest grace and simplicity of the old structure’s lines. She reached out and touched a silvery board and felt a deep twinge of regret. Jack Finnerty had rebuilt this barn, poured his sweat and passion into every detail and rediscovered its beauty. She wished she could tell him how moved she was by the artistry of his work.
But that ship had sailed.
Libba was still beaming as she led the group out of the barn. “I asked Jack for a fireplace back in the barn, but he talked me out of it. There just wasn’t going to be time to build a suitable rock chimney before the wedding.”
She pointed to a cleared area on the south side of the barn. “Instead, he’s giving me a fire pit over there. He and Ryan will build some benches from wood left over from the barn.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Cara said. “If you don’t mind, maybe we could move that old cart over near the fire pit. We can use it to set up the bar and the dessert buffet.”
Cara turned to Marie. “Layne is baking homemade chocolate-dipped graham crackers and her own marshmallows for s’mores at midnight. And we’re going to do a signature Cabin Creek cocktail. It’s basically an old-fashioned, but we’ll use this new bourbon from a distillery in Americus. And we’ll serve them in pint Mason jars.”
“Americus as in Georgia?” Patricia laughed. “No thanks. Give me a dry martini any day.”
Cara couldn’t resist the challenge. “You might be pleasantly surprised, Patricia. I’ve had this bourbon, and it’s really quite good.”
“I think this all sounds great,” Marie said. She looked around to seek her daughter’s agreement, but Brooke and Harris had drifted away from the others. They were standing under the shade of a pin-oak tree several yards away, deep in discussion, and from the looks of their expressions, things had gotten heated again.
“Brooke, Harris,” Marie called, determined to draw them out of their argument. “Did you hear what Cara said about the Cabin Creek cocktail?”
