SEVEN MONTHS LATER

  The sisters had decided together what they would wear on that most important day. Jane had asked for dresses with full skirts. Rosalind had picked out the color—a mysterious blue-green, the color of the sea just before sunset. Batty, with some guidance, had selected shoes with low heels and thin ankle straps. As for Skye, all she wanted was not to wear a hat with bows, or anything else on her head, for that matter. But when Iantha had asked if they would tuck yellow roses into their hair to match the yellow roses in her bouquet, Skye had agreed without a murmur, though she did tell Jane later that she would have drawn the line at pink roses, even for Iantha.

  Now, on the day itself, the four were gathered in Rosalind’s room, finishing their transformation from regular Penderwicks into bridesmaids.

  “Hold still, Batty,” said Rosalind. “Your rose keeps slipping.”

  Too excited to hold still, Batty was jumping up and down, trying for glimpses of herself in the mirror over the bureau. “I look beautiful, Hound,” she said in between jumps, though Hound was ignoring her, being too busy trying to bite off the yellow bow around his neck. “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.”

  “As do we all.” Jane put her hands on Batty’s shoulders and held her down, letting Rosalind pin the errant flower firmly in place.

  “I think that will hold,” Rosalind said, then turned to Skye, who was almost as green as she’d been the night of Sisters and Sacrifice. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ve forgotten my speech again.” Skye plucked at the skirt of her dress and wondered if there was time to escape to the roof for some solitude. But from the roof, she’d be able to see into Iantha’s backyard, where there was a flowered arch and an altar and dozens of chairs set in rows, and, worse, the already arriving guests. That would make her more nervous.

  “It’s not actually a speech,” said Rosalind, not for the first time.

  “Just a line,” said Jane, who’d written this part of the ceremony. “Rosalind says: ‘For a long time we didn’t know what we wanted.’ Then Skye, you say: ‘And when we finally knew, we realized that what we wanted was right next door.’ And then I say, ‘Her name was Iantha, and magically, she wanted us, too.’ Then Batty says—”

  “‘And so did Ben,’” finished Batty.

  “‘And when we finally knew,’” muttered Skye. “‘And when we finally knew, and when we finally knew’—”

  Now Aunt Claire was calling them from downstairs. “Girls! The groomsmen are here!”

  All worries about roses and speeches vanished as the girls flew out of the room and down the steps. Aunt Claire was at the bottom, flushed with excitement and lovely in dusky lavender. She gave them each a quick inspection and a quicker hug, then shooed them into the living room to greet the groomsmen.

  There were three, splendid in dark suits. The tallest had a big smile and eyes only for Rosalind. She was across the room and hanging on his arm in a flash, certain that Tommy looked more grown-up and handsome than ever, and she may have been right, though she’d been thinking the same thing every day for the last seven months. The second boy, with freckles and green eyes, was not as tall but just as handsome, and was joyously attacked by Skye and Jane almost before he knew they were in the room. Batty and Hound, too, needed to show their great devotion to this boy, for, after all, he’d been far away in Boston for months and months.

  “Jeffrey, I love you so!” Batty cried, flinging herself at his knees, while Hound barked in agreement.

  “I love you, too, Battikins,” he said, picking her up in a fierce hug.
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br />   The third groomsman was quite short, and his red hair was combed and flattened to within an inch of its life. Bewildered by the unfamiliar clothes and all the noise, he was thinking about crying, but before he could get started, Skye had torn herself away from Jeffrey and was kneeling beside him.

  “Hey, Ben.” Though she still didn’t like babies, she’d decided to make an exception for this one. “How are you?”

  “Not good.”

  “Me neither, but it’ll all be over soon and then we’ll have cake. Okay?”

  This reminder of cake cheered him greatly, and he was now happy to quietly pluck at Hound’s yellow bow until it came undone, earning him even more love from Hound than he already had.

  In the middle of all that, Aunt Claire had melted away, but she came back now, and with her was—

  “Oh, Daddy,” said Rosalind. “You look—you look—”

  “Gorgeous,” said Jane.

  “Nonsense,” protested Skye, though her breath, too, had been taken away.

  It wasn’t the suit, of course, or the starched white shirt, or even the tie that didn’t clash with anything. It was the happiness that had settled in every part of him, the pure and solid happiness that he’d longed for and deserved, and now was his.

  “My princesses,” he said, and all four rushed to him and hugged him until he gently pulled away to pick up Ben for a hug of his own. Then he nodded to the other two, man to men. “Tommy, Jeffrey, thanks for being here.”

  They nodded back, suddenly serious and adult, until Jane tickled Tommy, and Skye tickled Jeffrey, and everyone became themselves again.

  Now there was a knock on the front door. It was Nick and Anna, come to say that it was time to go next door.

  “She’s ready?” asked Mr. Penderwick, and no one had to ask whom he meant.

  “Yes, she is, Mr. Pen,” said Nick. “And the minister.”

  “And all of the guests are here,” said Anna gleefully, for she loved weddings when they weren’t her own father’s.

  Mr. Penderwick handed Ben over to Aunt Claire, then gave each of his daughters one last hug. “Well, girls, are we ready to get married?”

  Married. Was it possible? But yes, astoundingly, miraculously, all of the Penderwicks were absolutely, positively, indisputably, and without a shadow of a doubt—ready to get married.

  And so they did.