***

Emily awoke to a bright, sunny day. She could hear Devlin in the shower and rolled over, smiling. She ran the tips of her fingers over the indentation his head had made in the pillow. She was sweaty, but she knew her fever was finally breaking.

"Happy Christmas, angel face," he said, coming into the bedroom, a towel about his loins.


"Damn, you look all fresh and clean, and I am so scuzzy. I think my fever's breaking, Devlin. I'm suddenly hungry, and I want a cuppa."

"Let me get my clothes on, and I'll go down and bring you one," he said.

"And my sundae too," she said.

He laughed as he dressed, pulling on his jeans, and a soft crewneck sweater. "Ice cream for breakfast, angel face?"

"Why not?" she asked. "It's Christmas. I'll come downstairs, but first I need a shower too."

"Is that wise if the fever hasn't broken yet?" he asked.

"Go make tea, Devlin. You're starting to sound like Rina," Emily chided him.

He left her, and Emily jumped out of bed and hurried to shower, tucking her hair in a cap to keep it dry. Drying herself thoroughly, Emily pulled on a pair of peach-colored fleece sweatpants, a matching tee, and over it a peach fleece sweatshirt. She ran a brush through her hair. It didn't look too bad, considering. Sliding her feet into her sheepskin slippers, she padded down the stairs. She felt suddenly normal. The fever had obviously broken while she was in the shower.

"In the den, angel face," he called to her, and Emily joined him.

"Two sundaes?" she said, surprised.

"One for you and one for me," he told her. "Tea?"

"No, ice cream first. My fever is gone, Devlin."

He popped the lid from a sundae container and handed the dessert to her with a spoon.

Emily accepted it, digging her spoon into the ice cream, and then suddenly she stopped and stared. Sticking out of the whipped cream atop the sundae was a diamond ring. Carefully she set the sundae down on the table and pulled the ring away from the cream. The diamond was a square-cut, with two rectangular baguettes on either side. The stones were set in platinum. Emily licked the cream from the band, rubbed it against her shirt, and put it on her finger. Holding out her hand she admired it, and then she said, "Well, this sure beats a cherry, Devlin. Yes."

"I haven't asked you yet," he said.

"Just take the yes," she told him.

"No," he said. "I am going to ask you, Emily Katherine Shanski, if you will do me the honor-the great honor-of becoming my wife. Now you may answer."

"Yes," she said, and, throwing herself into his arms, she added, "I don't think I'm contagious anymore." And then they kissed. When he was finally able to release her from his embrace several minutes later, Emily said, "I have to call Rina. She will never forgive us if I don't." Picking up the phone, she punched in the Seligmanns' number.

"Hello?" Rina answered.

"Rina, it's me. The fever has broken. Who's there with you?"

"Sam, my brother, and Kirk. The boys came for breakfast," Rina answered.

"Put me on speakerphone," Emily said excitedly.

"Okay, you're on," Rina said, suspecting what was coming, and unable to contain her smile. "What's up?"

"Devlin and I are getting married," Emily said happily.

Rina looked to her husband, her brother, and Kirkland Browne, nodding. "Emily, that is wonderful! We'll come over later, all right?"

"Okay," Emily said, and hung up.

"What did I tell you three doubting Thomases?" Rina Seligmann said triumphantly, looking at the three men sitting around her breakfast table. "Did I call it or not?"

Kirkland Browne and Dr. Sam nodded silently in acceptance of her wisdom, but Aaron Fischer, smiling, looked up and said only two words: "Thank heaven!"

"Thank heaven?" his sister asked. "For what?"


"For the miracle I asked for, Rina. My Hanukkah miracle," Aaron replied.

"For my Christmas miracle," Kirkland Browne added.

And then the four broke out in happy laughter, clinking their coffee mugs together as they toasted the wedding to come.

EPILOGUE

They were married the last Saturday in April in a small wedding attended by family and friends. The bride wore the antique ivory satin-and-lace wedding gown that had been worn by her great-great-great grandmother in 1860. The tiered gown and its hoop, along with its exquisite handmade lace veil, had been loaned to Emily by the Egret Pointe Historical Society, which now possessed it. The starchy longtime president of the society, Mrs. Hallock Dunham, a very distant relation of Emily's, deemed it only appropriate, and Emily was delighted to accept. The groom wore an Irish kilt, a ruffled white shirt, and a black velvet jacket.

Each had only one attendant. Martin Stratford, tanned and just returned from his round-the-world cruise, was best man. Savannah Banning had flown in from England to serve as her best friend's matron of honor. Emily's mother and her stepfather Senator Phelps, were in attendance, along with her Phelps half siblings, Phoebe and Carter V. Emily's father, Dr. Joe Shanski, his wife, and their three sons were there, but Emily had not asked Joe to escort her down the aisle.

"You helped create me, Joe," Emily had told him when she'd called to say she was getting married, "but you've never really been my father. You never had the time, and I understand. I want my agent, Aaron Fischer, to take me down the aisle. No hard feelings, huh?"

Joe Shanski realized in that moment just what he had lost, but he swallowed hard and said, "Nah, kiddo, no hard feelings. Mary Shannon, the boys, and I will be there with bells on. I'm glad you've found happiness. I still want to meet this guy before you do it."

"I'll have him call you, Joe, and you two can do lunch one day," Emily said.

Her mother had been a different cup of tea, but then, Katy always had been her own woman. "I'll have to check my schedule," she said. "The spring hunt is just around then, Emily. Can I call you back?"

"No," Emily said, "you cannot call me back. I'm getting married at St. Anne's in Egret Pointe at one thirty in the afternoon on the last Saturday in April. I expect you, your husband, and my half sister and brother to be there, Katy. This is not a negotiation, and for once you will do the right thing by me. Carter's up for reelection this year, isn't he?"

There was a long silence, and then Katy O'Malley Phelps laughed. "When did you get so tough?" she asked Emily.

"You don't know me at all, do you?" Emily said quietly. "Well, no matter. Just consider what a marvelous photo op it will make for Carter's reelection campaign, Katy." And Emily chuckled, imagining her mother's face at that moment.

"You really are a little bitch," Katy remarked.

"But you'll come en famille, won't you?" Emily responded.

"We'll be there," her mother replied.

"Do you want me to make a reservation anywhere for you?" Emily asked politely.

"God, no! We'll fly in and out in the same day," Katy exclaimed. "I suppose Joe and his wife and children will be there too. He has to escort you down the aisle."


"They'll be there," Emily said, not bothering to explain, and thus avoiding a lecture from Katy on manners and tradition. Joe understood her position, and that was all that was necessary, as far as Emily was concerned.

Their wedding day had dawned sunny, with a hint of real warmth in the air. The church was banked in lilacs brought in from the South. Aaron could not have been prouder if Emily were his own offspring. While old Father Mulligan looked a bit askance that the Jewish gentleman, as he referred to Aaron, was escorting the bride, he knew the full history of Emily Katherine Shanski, and understood her position. There were some things the bishop didn't have to know.

And afterward they adjourned back to Emily's house for canapés, wedding cake, and champagne. Most of Egret Pointe had crowded into St. Anne's, or stood outside of it, but only invited guests came back to the house. J. P. Woods had poked Emily playfully, and said she now understood how Emily had managed to write such a deliciously sensual book. Ever since the new year J.P. had been a changed woman, and no one understood why, except perhaps Emily, who grinned at J.P.'s remark and winked.

Joe Shanski and Michael Devlin had easily become friends over the several months before the wedding. Both discovered they had a taste for a certain malted Irish whiskey. And Katy was bowled over by Devlin's charm which her daughter found amusing. Few people got past Katy's armor. Her half sister, Phoebe, sighed and said she hoped she married someone that hot one day, and then lamented to Emily that the only men she met were a lot like her father and brother-booooring!

Rina was in her glory, directing the girls hired by Essie to serve the guests. And then it was time for them to cut their wedding cake. The champagne flowed freely, and Emily caught her three young Shanski half brothers each with a glass. She shook a finger at them, but they just grinned. While the guests were devouring the cake, she and Devlin slipped upstairs to change. Savannah was waiting with two ladies from the Historical Society to help Emily out of the precious antique gown, while Devlin changed in another room.

"Please tell Mrs. Hallock Dunham how very honored I was that she allowed me to wear Great-great-great-grandmother Mary Anne's wedding dress," Emily told the two ladies. "I hope one day my daughter will wear it."

"You looked absolutely beautiful in it, dear," one of the ladies said. "I hope you will allow us to put a picture of you in it with the exhibit."

"Of course," Emily agreed. "It's the least I can do."