She crossed to the kitchen table, grabbing an iced cookie on her way. After six months of her grandmothers’ cooking, she didn’t want to think about what her cholesterol level must be.

“Tell me everything,” she said, stopping next to Francesca and eyeing her very beautiful, very thin twin.

Nearly two months pregnant and was Francesca showing? Not even close. Brenna knew that if she was ever to play host to a marauding sperm, she would plump up overnight and look as if she were giving birth to a water-melon by week nine.

Francesca shrugged. “I know we all talked about waiting, what with the baby and all, but Sam and I have changed our minds. And Katie and I want to have a double wedding. It could be a triple one if you wanted to get married again.”

Groans erupted from the grandmothers. Brenna’s mother simply settled her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. “I’m getting too old for this,” she murmured.

“A double wedding?” Brenna considered the possibility, while ignoring the comment about her getting married again. That was never going to happen. “It will be a cost savings,” she reminded her mother as she draped her suit jacket over a chair. “You’ll only have to feed the guests once instead of twice.”

“What about the wedding gown?” Grandma Tessa looked up from her chopping. “We barely have time to make a dress for Katie and now this? Are you sure you want to go down the aisle in your condition? Not that we’re not happy for you, Francesca. A pretty girl like you needs a husband.”

“Yeah, ugly girls live to be single,” Brenna whispered.

Katie’s full mouth twitched as she tried not to laugh. “We’re willing to put the wedding date back to give us all time to get everything done.”

“You could have the weddings at Thanksgiving,” Brenna said as she nibbled on her cookie. “We all know everyone in this family will be doing the happy dance to see two sisters married. For years everyone has despaired of ever getting us all hitched. Now we’re halfway there. That gives us so much more to be thankful for.”

Grandma Tessa muttered something Brenna couldn’t hear. She half expected to see the older woman whip out her rosary for a quick trip around the beads. Fortunately Grandma Tessa contented herself with a couple of dark looks.

“Turkey-day weekend works for me,” Katie said. “We could have the wedding that Saturday.”

Francesca shrugged. “Sam doesn’t care about the date. As for a dress, I’ll pick something simple and flowing.”

“Don’t bother,” Brenna told her. “You’ll be nine months pregnant and still not showing.”

Their mother raised her head. “I don’t know. As it is, we’ll be sewing day and night.”

Family tradition dictated that any Marcelli bride have a wedding gown handmade by the women in the family. A great idea in theory, but beading lace took forever. Brenna wasn’t worried about the additional sewing duties. She had a winery to run and therefore was excused from most of the needlework.

Their mother pulled out a pad of paper. “If we’re going to have a double wedding, we need to start making lists.”

The three sisters looked at one another and shook their heads. When Mom started making lists, an entire afternoon could fly by. Better to escape now.

“I’ll get the drinks,” Brenna said, heading for a rack on the far wall.

“I’ll get chocolate,” Francesca said.

Katie walked to the cupboard. “Cheese and crackers or cookies?”

“Cookies,” Francesca and Brenna said together.

Their mother shook her head. “You girls aren’t going anywhere. We have two weddings to plan.”

Katie snaked a plate of cookies from the counter, kissed both Grammy M and Grandma Tessa, and hurried out of the room.

“Love you, Mom,” she called over her shoulder.

Francesca quickly followed.

Brenna collected a bottle of wine, an opener, and two wineglasses, then opened the refrigerator. As expected, there was a bottle of chocolate milk sitting on the top shelf. It was the Grands’ contribution to Francesca’s need to increase her calcium.

“You guys think of everything,” she said as she shut the door.

Her mother glared at her. “We need to plan.”

“We’ll deal with it later,” Brenna promised. “Don’t worry. Everything will get done in time.”

“I can’t believe you girls are having wine. It’s the middle of the day.”

“We have things to celebrate,” Brenna said.

Her mother’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You seem exceptionally happy today. Why is that?”

Brenna wasn’t about to spill the beans about her potential deal with Nic. Not to her parents. While she knew they would understand her need to stand on her own, the information would put them in an awkward position. Her paternal grandfather was still the head of the family and he wouldn’t approve. Rather than make her parents take sides, she would keep her mouth shut.

She smiled and started backing out of the room. “Two of my sisters are marrying wonderful men. Isn’t that enough to put a spring in my step?”

“Not by a long shot. What are you up to, Brenna?”

“Absolutely nothing. Cross my heart.”

Grandma Tessa looked up. “You go to hell for lying, same as stealing, young lady. The good Lord knows all.”

“Words to live by,” Brenna said with a laugh as she turned and raced up the stairs.

2

Brenna followed Katie and Francesca into the bedroom she and her twin had shared while they’d been growing up and where she’d returned to when she’d moved back into the hacienda. She set the wine and the glasses on the nightstand, then handed the chocolate milk to her sister. While Brenna went to work on the cork, Francesca flopped down on the bed opposite and Katie sat cross-legged on the foot of Brenna’s bed.

“You know they’re not going to leave us alone for very long,” Katie said, accepting the glass of Cabernet Brenna handed her. “Mom’s right. There’s a lot to go into the wedding planning.”

“So speaks Ms. Organized,” Brenna said. She poured a glass for herself and raised it. “To my sisters getting married.”

But neither of them responded to her toast. Katie stared watchfully, while Francesca looked concerned.

“What?” Brenna asked, kicking off her shoes and sinking onto the mattress. “You’re looking at me funny and that always makes me nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous. It’s just…” Francesca leaned toward her. “I’m worried about you.” She glanced at Katie. “We’re worried about you.”

“Because I’m drinking wine in the middle of the day? I swear, it doesn’t usually happen. Most of the time I’m too busy to stop for lunch, which isn’t anything I ever thought I would say. Unfortunately with the Grands’ cooking being as fattening as it is, skipping a meal once in a while doesn’t work as a weight-loss plan.” She patted her stomach. “I guess I’m going to have to seriously think about portion control.”

Her two sisters exchanged a knowing glance. Brenna sighed in exasperation. “I hate it when you talk about me behind my back.”

“We didn’t,” Katie said defensively, but as she spoke she tugged on a strand of her reddish-brown hair and bit her lower lip—sure signs that she was lying.

Francesca shrugged. “We’re just a little concerned.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re getting married.”

Brenna took a sip of the 1999 Cab; ’98 had been a crappy year for California wines, but ’99 had been better. She eyed the cookies and thought about grabbing one, but maybe she should wait until she got things settled with her sisters.

“Amazingly enough, your pending nuptials don’t exactly impact my day,” she said. “We’ll be harvesting the Chardonnay grapes any day now, so I’m going to be too busy for the sewing marathon everyone is about to embark upon. But I’ll be there in spirit.”

“It’s not about the dress,” Katie said, then glanced at Francesca. “You tell her.”

Francesca sipped her wine, then sighed. “We don’t want your feelings to be hurt.”

While she appreciated that they worried about her, she still had no idea what they were talking about. “Are you telling me you don’t want me at your wedding?”

“Of course not,” they said in unison.

“Then how could you hurt my feelings?”

“You’re not seeing anyone.”

They weren’t making any sense. Brenna gave up on self-control and grabbed a cookie. “If the concern is I’ll be depressed because I’m dateless, I swear I’ll be fine.” Right now a man was the last thing on her mind. Well, unless he had a million dollars to loan her. Then she was intensely interested.

Katie shook her head. “Francesca, this isn’t the time for delicate psycho-speak. Just blurt it out.” But rather than wait for her sister, Katie continued. “Francesca and I are worried that you’ll be upset because we’ve finally found great guys and that bastard you were married to is getting married to someone else and you’re all caught up in the winery and what if our long-lost brother really does claim it, and without the winery, you don’t have a life and we’re afraid our happiness is going to depress you.” She paused to suck in a breath.

Brenna took a bite of her cookie and chewed. “Impressive lung control,” she mumbled over the crumbs, then swallowed. “I’m fine.”

Neither sister looked convinced. Brenna glanced between them. The Marcelli daughters were a perfect blend of their Italian-Irish heritage. Katie was mostly Irish with pale skin and reddish-brown hair. Francesca had the thick, dark hair from the Marcelli side of the family, but had also inherited hazel eyes and a tall, thin body from the O’Sheas. Brenna was pure Italian—dark hair, brown eyes, plenty of curves.

Which left Mia. Brenna smiled as she thought of her baby sister’s bleached hair and high drama makeup. Mia had never met a tube of mascara she didn’t like. But then, Mia had always been just herself.

Her sisters had been her best friends all their lives. No matter what else happened, she knew they would be there for her, as they always had been.

“This is your time,” she told Katie and Francesca. “You don’t need to worry about me. I swear, everything is great. More than great.”

They didn’t look convinced. Well, poop. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone about her plans until things were settled, but maybe they would sleep better at night if they knew she wasn’t about to drown her sorrows in a case of Marcelli sparkling wine.

Francesca’s gaze narrowed. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“A lot.”

Brenna set her wineglass on the nightstand and stood up. She walked to her closet and pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and began to change her clothes.

As she reached for the button on the waistband of her skirt, she said, “I went to see Nic Giovanni about a loan. I think he’s going to say yes.”

After smoothing her shoulder-length hair, she turned back to find her two sisters staring at her. The combination of open mouths and wide eyes was pretty funny.

“No way,” Francesca breathed. “You did not go to Nic for a loan, did you? You’re really doing this? You’re starting your own label?”

Katie clutched her wine in both hands. “How much did you ask for? Not the amount you said before because that was—”

“A million dollars,” Brenna said cheerfully as she pulled on her jeans. “Or seven figures, as they say on the street.”

“No way!”