“Hang on.” She ran over to Bear. “Hey, Bear, would you like some lunch and wedding cake? Come join us.”
He stared at her. “Gosh, you look pretty.”
“Thank you. That’s sweet of you. Come have lunch with us.”
“Are you sure it’s okay?”
“I’m sure.”
He followed her like a child to the tent, where Eric was already getting a place set for him at the end of one of the tables.
“See?” She pointed. “There’s your spot.”
Eric gestured toward a chair. “Hey, Bear, come eat.”
She wasn’t sure Bear knew what to do at a buffet, so she fixed a plate for him and sat it down before him, together with a glass of lemonade. “I’ve got to go sit with Lexi and Austin now, but if you need anything, let me know, okay?”
Bear nodded. “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”
She gave him a smile. “You’re welcome.”
Eric walked with her to the buffet and handed her a plate, using the opportunity to lean in close. “God, I adore you. Your heart is pure gold.”
His words put a glow behind her breastbone.
The meal was delicious—a choice of herb-roasted chicken breast with rhubarb compote or salmon with lemon and herbs, and roasted new potatoes with parsley, salad, roasted asparagus, and green beans with mint. Wine was available, but she stuck with lemonade—until Eric brought her a glass of champagne.
“For the toasts,” he said.
“Is everything under control with Chaska and the projector?”
He nodded. “Belcourt and Moretti are going to bring in the screen and projector as soon as you finish your toast.”
That was perfect.
She took a sip of champagne. “Are you nervous?”
Dark brows drew together. “Taylor is my best friend. I don’t want to fail him.”
She squeezed his hand. “You won’t.”
And then it was time.
Butterflies did a quick dance in Vic’s belly, more for Eric than for herself. She did lots of public speaking as part of her job. But this was new for him.
Eric tapped the side of his champagne glass with his knife, theding-ding-dingbringing an expectant silence. “When I sat down to write this, I didn’t know whether it was supposed to be short and sweet or longer. But since rangers complain that firefighters talk too much, I figured Taylor knew what he was getting himself into.”
This statement brought guffaws from people scattered throughout the tent—presumably other firefighters and park rangers, who got the in-joke.
“Austin Taylor is my best friend. I don’t remember not knowing him. My mother, Robin, babysat him so she could stay home with me. I’m certain the two of us were a handful.”
“You were,” Robin called out, making everyone laugh.
Eric went on to describe some of their most memorable antics. Skipping school so they could fish and being caught in the lie by Austin’s father. Trying to construct a real, operational lightsaber at age ten, only to catch his mother’s Tuff Shed on fire—the event that led Eric to want to be a firefighter. Thinking they were buying weed their first year of high school, only to be busted in possession of dried oregano by their PE teacher.
“We were both grounded for a month—for buyingoregano.”
Laughter.