Chapter 24: The Gate Is Open

The invitation fit on an index card.

I wrote it myself, in pen, and made forty copies at the kitchen table in the main house.

It said: "Willa Hartnell and Cillian Thackray are getting married on Saturday, March 13, at four o'clock, at Thackray Ridge."

It went on: "Take the Napa road to the gate. The gate will be open. Park by the barn. Dinner follows."

Under that, I wrote my phone number, in case anyone wanted to check.

Mara was the first to call.

"Is it really this simple?" she asked.

"It's a date, a time and a place."

"Are there any surprises?"

"One. The groom will be wearing a tie."

She laughed, and I could hear her trying not to.

On the morning of the wedding the mustard was in bloom between the rows.

It ran yellow down both sides of every block for three weeks each spring.

The hills behind it were green.

The vines were bare, with their first small buds just showing.

I stood in the cottage doorway in my robe and looked at the day.

My mother was in the yard with her handbag on her arm.

She had arrived at eight, which was the time I had told her.

"Where would you like me?" she asked.

I almost laughed.

"Wherever you want, Mom. First row, if you like."

"May I do something useful?"

"There are folding chairs in the barn."

She went off to find them, and her shoulders looked lighter than I'd ever seen.

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