“Where are we going?” she asked, even more confused when he led her up the staircase instead of down a moment later.
“You’ll see.”
“Oh, the back porch,” she said happily a moment later when they finally arrived at the narrow set of stairs that she recognized. Dylan had taken her here last week in order to watch the sunrise. Even though the rear porch appeared to be rarely used and weatherworn, Alice had found it extremely romantic and lovely. She especially loved th
e huge old porch swing.
Dylan turned toward her as he reached for the door. “Close your eyes.”
She followed his instructions, unable to repress her grin.
She heard the latch on the door and he tugged on her hand. She walked several feet blinded, guided only by his hand.
“Okay. Just stand there for a few seconds and keep your eyes closed. No cheating.”
“Hurry up,” she insisted amusedly after what felt like forever. Was that the sound of a lighter being struck? “The suspense is killing me.”
“Patience,” he remonstrated. She felt his hand enclose hers.
“Okay. Open them.”
It took her several seconds to absorb what she was seeing. The entire veranda had been transformed into a romantic fairyland. It’d been repainted. The wood floors and beamed ceiling a soft gray that matched the limestone of the house, the railing and large porch swing were a pristine white. The wrought iron chaise lounges had been spruced up with cheery red cushions. Pots of colorful red and white flowers had been set along the railing. Interspersed between them were glowing, flickering lanterns. Several small leafy trees in large pots had been placed along the back of the veranda, and someone had intertwined strings of tiny white glowing lights on them. In the center of the porch a round cloth-covered table had been placed along with two chairs. The table was a feast for the eyes, decorated with a low crystal bowl of lush purple hydrangeas and flickering candles. Before each chair sat a silver domed dish.
A small lacy three-tiered cake and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket had been placed on a side table. The pretty little cake was lit with candles on each layer, making it look like a glowing confectionary tower.
“Happy birthday,” Dylan said, leading her toward the cake.
“It’s all so beautiful,” she murmured, wide-eyed, soaking in all the minute details around her with wonder. Her gaze landed on the white railing and flowerpots. He watched her reaction warmly. A heady feeling rushed through her. “You remembered what I said that day about how the railing should be white, and flowerpots should be in front of it.”
“I never came up here when you were small, and I’ve never seen any photos,” he said, his hand moving at her back. “When you said that it should be white with flowerpots, that was my only hint of what this porch looked like twenty years ago.” He nodded at the cake. “Well? Make a wish.”
She swallowed thickly, finding it hard to focus with so much happiness crowding her consciousness.
I wish I could live up to it all, she thought, her gaze wandering over the lovely veranda and thinking of everything it entailed. It landed on Dylan. Please let me be what he truly wants—me—not freedom from the burden of grief and guilt he’s felt all these years.
She blew out the candles . . . all twenty-four of them.
“Do you think it was a real memory? The one about the white railing and the pots of flowers and my love of the porch swing?” she asked Dylan after he’d seated her at the table and sat down across from her.
“I see no reason why not. Louise and Marie both assured me that the color choices were ideal, one way or another.” He lifted the champagne from the ice, his brows arched in a question.
“Please,” she murmured, going back to staring all around and admiring the romantic setting. “So Louise and Marie helped you with this?”
“Couldn’t have done it without them. I had some painters come in a few days ago. Louise did all the decorating and flowers. She’s been at it all day. Marie prepared our meal and baked your cake.” He set her champagne flute down in front of her. “The only thing I did was follow Marie’s instructions for heating the dinner. Let’s hope I didn’t blow that.” He whipped off the domed lid and Alice stared down at a steaming, beautifully presented meal.
“Chicken cordon bleu, rice pilaf, and braised asparagus. They both say happy birthday, by the way. Louise and Marie, I mean. I gave them the day off tomorrow—I wanted the house to ourselves—so they told me to be sure to tell you for them.”
“That was nice of them. This is wonderful. Thank you.”
“Like I said, I didn’t do much,” he assured, removing the dome from his own plate and setting it on the serving table.
She reached across the table and caught his hand. He glanced up in surprise.
“It’s the exact opposite of nothing. You planned it all. No one has ever given me a birthday dinner before, let alone one like this.”
His mouth pressed into a hard line. “Never?”
“It’s okay,” she assured, grinning. “This makes up for it all.”