Page 47 of My Best French Wedding

“Yes.” She hoped it sounded more convincing to his ears. “You?”

Walter hesitated. “I’m not sure there’s anything more to get.”

She refused to give him the satisfaction of asking what he meant.

“I don’t see why we can’t have the wedding here,” Mr. Prescott was saying to Fiona as Hildy approached. He had selected an even higher spot on the battlements, where the chest-high stone walls were topped with square bricks that protruded like jack-o’-lantern teeth. “Or over there.” He pointed across the river. “There are plenty of castles.”

“Daddy,” Fiona chided, “those are other people’s castles. We can’t just barge in and ask to get married. Besides, Maude put so much work intohercastle. I don’t want to ruin her big reveal.”

“I’m just saying this is a real fortress.” Mr. Prescott made a fist, like he too was a pillar of strength. “You don’t hear anyone making a fuss about historic preservation here.”

“I think Fiona is looking for something more subtle,” Hildy said, in the soothing tone she’d perfected over a lifetime of managing her uncle. “Arboreal. Secluded. Romantic. Bewitching.”

At some point during her speech, Walter must have snuck up behind her. His voice was practically in her ear when he felt the need to comment, “That’s a lot of words.”

“I know some other ones,” she replied, matching his confidential murmur. “Overbearing. Busybody. Buttinski.”

“What do you think of it?” Mr. Prescott asked Walter. “Our castle.”

“I haven’t seen it yet,” Walter admitted.

That had to hurt. Hildy made a pouty face of mock sympathy, even though she was tap-dancing on the inside. Walter pretended not to notice.

“But I have full faith in Maude’s abilities,” he told her father.

“Good answer.” Mr. Prescott nodded his approval. “Do you think this place has a dungeon?” It was clearly an invitation. To Hildy’s surprise, Walter gave a sigh of regret.

“I should stick with the bride and groom. Duty calls.”

“Fair enough.” After a manly pat on the shoulder for his favorite reporter, Mr. Prescott headed back inside.

Hildy sidled over to Fiona and Robbie before Walter could get there. “How’s your day going?”

“Majestic!” Robbie said. “I wish I had a pet eagle.”

“But you’d want it to be free,” Fiona pointed out.

“That’s true, babe. You think of everything.”

They really were well suited. Hildy felt a stab of envy. It must be nice to find someone you really and truly clicked with, as opposed to a fair-weather faux-boyfriend. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard the story of how you two met.”

“Believe it or not, we are actual childhood sweethearts.” Fiona beamed at Robbie. “Met at tennis camp when we were kids, didn’t find each other again until the summer after college.”

Hildy did the math a couple of times to make sure she had it right. “So… last year?”

“When you know, you know,” Robbie said, as if it were that simple.

Far be it from Hildy to argue with a besotted groom, but she had her doubts on that front. Sometimes what you thought you knew turned out to be a delusion that you spent the next decade trying to shake.

“It’s like the best of both worlds.” Fiona sounded like a real estate agent trying to sell Hildy a timeshare. “All the newness of falling in love, but with this built-in comfort, like you’ve known each other forever.”

“Because you have!” Robbie held up his hand for a high five, which somehow transitioned to rubbing their noses together while whispering endearments.

Corinne joined them in time to hear the end of the story. “Don’t get weird and spoil their moment.”

“Why would she get weird?” Fiona asked, pulling away from her fiancé.

“About the childhood sweethearts thing.” Corinne looked like she wanted to take a flamethrower to the words as soon as they were out, but it was too late.