Victory considered herself a woman who always maintained her dignity and grace while under pressure, but when she glanced at the time and realized less than twenty-four hours remained before the big event, the trickle of cold sweat began to pour.

            "Relax." Niobe sat at the length of the kitchen island, examining her freshly manicured nails, painted a bright coral pink, as if the answer to life's most elusive questions were lacquered on their surface.

            "I can't relax." Victory grumbled, hunting high and low for her house keys. Keys, keys, keys—where the hell did I put the bloody keys? "I have groceries to buy, groceries I was supposed to pick up yesterday so mom and dad would have things in the house while I'm...shit, I should have done this yesterday, why didn't I do this yesterday?"

            "Because you were bogged down with a half million other things." Niobe reminded her. "Honestly, can you stop buzzing about? Your obsessive panic is giving me a headache."

            Victory bit her lip, and the snarl. Facing the sideboard in her kitchen, there, in the bowl of potpourri, was her keys; the bright assortment of key rings camouflaged beneath an array of dried petals and colourful curls of scented wood. Lifting them, Victory wracked her memory and came up dry. "How did these get in here?"

            Niobe only shrugged, keeping her eyes fixed on her nails. "Haven't got the faintest clue. Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something."

            "Screw the universe." Victory waved the keys in the air, the various tags and fobs jingling and clattering from the abrupt gesture. "Unless the universe can magically cut through half of my to-do's, she can kiss my—"

            A knock cut her off mid rant. Rolling her eyes heavenward, unable to hold back her snarling growl, Victory whirled towards the front door. Yanked it open.

"Mom!" The single word blasted in a two-part harmony as, squealing, Niobe raced from her perch by the island, over to the doorway where Victory stood, slack-jawed and awestruck.

"Mom." She sputtered again stepping back a pace so her parents could file through the door. "Dad—when did you? How did you...?"

"Oh, honey," Wearing a summer dress of sage green and a sunny yellow floppy hat over her cap of short dark hair, Aubrey breezed in for a hug and a kiss, lifting the wide brim away from her glorious, barely lined face. "With all the fuss for tonight, did you honestly think we'd let you worry over us? Gracious, no."

"Told you she'd be speechless," chuckled her father, Ed. Tall, broad shouldered and ten pounds heavier than since she last saw him, tropical shirt buttoned low and tucked into khaki shorts, his sandy hair streaked with yet more silver.

"I would have swung out to the airport to pick them up myself, but then you'd have asked too many questions." Niobe teased, giving a stunned Victory a poke. "So, I arranged limo pick up and transport here, as well as hired a personal shopper to gather the groceries from the list I requested from mom before she bordered the flight." Both Niobe and her mother, Aubrey, shared a conspiratorial wink.

"Yes, Ms. Pierce here is a brilliant, deviously sneaky mastermind." Ed agreed, proudly. "She secured an earlier flight for us—first class."

"Which was a lovely and generous gesture," Aubrey added, shifting from her daughter she gathered Niobe in a fierce, maternal embrace. "Oh look at you, so lovely, sweetheart. And it's been so long. Come, let me see the ring."

Sweeping both of them aside, Aubrey fussed over Niobe, tilting her hand this way and that, admiring how the diamond caught and fractured the light.

Navigating around them, the condo's doorman, Harry, hauled in the grocery bags. "G'day Ms. Clarke." He said with his usual wrinkled smile and tip of his black cap. "Where shall I put these?"

"Let me help you with those," Ed lifted a few of the heavy bags from Harry's boney arms, and steered him towards the kitchen where they set them on the counter then scooted back out into the hall to trudge back in with the luggage. Reaching in to his pocket, Ed handed Harry a folded twenty and sent him on his way. "Now," he turned, rubbing palm to palm, ready to tackle the mound of luggage as her mother usually insisted on packing her entire wardrobe. "Where should we put these, sweet pea?"

"Guest room. To the right." Victory scurried away from her mom and Niobe gushing over wedding details to the sliding glass door and had a quick moment to say a thankful prayer she'd found the time that morning to strip the bedding and clean out the guest bathroom. "Dad, let me help you with those." She tried to reach for a suitcase, one of the three her father wrestled with, when he shook his head and grinned in a way that crinkled the corners of his moss-green eyes.

"No, no, sweet pea. I can take care of this. Go on, show your mother the rest of this place while I get us unpacked and settled. I am sure she's dying to get into that kitchen of yours."

"You see how well I have him trained?" Aubrey giggled, lips pursed, she slipped an arm around Victory shoulders, and the other around Niobe's waist. "Now, ladies, where shall we start?" And cast her eyes across the room.

They started with the narrow terrace overlooking the district. Good lighting, Aubrey thought, and an exceptional view of the city. Quiet and trendy little neighbourhood of cafes, galleries and boutiques she was dying to spend a few hours browsing.

Large and wide windows framed with gold curtains, a navy sectional facing a moderately sized television suitable to the size and scale of the wall space.

She admired a scattering of photographs that adorned the powder grey walls, and few of the cultural knick-knacks she'd sent her daughter from their years of travel. The leather, hand painted tribal masks she'd sent from the Mayan Riviera, to a pair of ebony carved giraffes from their trip to the Ivory Coast, standing two feet tall and proud in a corner by the entertainment center adding a lovely little touch of whimsy.

They worked through the den, hidden beneath mounds of paperwork, and wrapped up in the kitchen. The whole tour, from start to finish didn't take more than ten minutes and by the end of it, Victory was a thoroughly anxious wreck.

"It's small but—"

"Oh, it's lovely, honey." Aubrey swung her arms around her daughter's shoulders, kissed her cheek noisily. "This place is exceptional. Love all the homey touches, as well, with the reclaimed pieces you're so fond of. That sideboard is a thing of beauty." She stood, facing it, finger tapping the side of her cheek in perusal. "So much charm and character."

"Antiques auction out in Stouffville." Victory explained with a measure of pride as she stroked a hand over the flat top of white stone she'd custom ordered, adding the vintage crystal knobs to dress it up while leaving the weathered wood rough and lightly varnished, preserving the endearing imperfections that had caught her eye. And considering, altogether, she'd only spent a couple hundred to refurbish the piece, the finished product was pretty enough to grace even the swankiest showroom floor.

"Lovely, honey, absolutely lovely. You've always had such a great eye for seeing the potential in what others might only view as rubbish. Oh my, but this range," Aubrey turned around, held her arms wide then clasped her hands by her lips. "Oh, I've always wanted to get my hands on something so fine."

"Careful, sweet pea." Her father chuckled, now working on sorting through the bags of groceries, hauling a carton of eggs, bag of milk and butter from one, a loaf of French bread and fresh raspberries from the other. "By the end of this week your mother may elect to move in with you, leaving me alone and heartbroken to run our boutique B&B in the Caribbean without her." He shook his head, tisking. "Imagine, passed over for a gas range."

"Oh, but darling," she sighed, running her hands across the silver face and casting him a wickedly unapologetic smile over her shoulder. "This is Bertazonni and he's just so handsome."

Ed's answer to that was to swoop around the counter and gather in his giggling wife for a kiss the knocked her hat—literally—off her head.

"Oh my," Aubrey fanned herself, whiskey eyes twinkling. "Now I remember why I married you. Oh, girls, come now, we're all grown. A kiss shouldn't still bring out a blush in those not-so-innocent-anymore cheeks." Rubbing her hands together, she cast her eyes to the pile of groceries, then wiggled her perfectly tweezed brows. "How about I make us some French toast and macerated berries?"

"For lunch?" Niobe snickered. "It's after one."

"Oh, my dear sweet girl," Aubrey winked, already at home in the kitchen, she found the apron Victory kept tucked away in the bottom drawer, wrapped it around her waist. "It's never too late in the day for a little wicked indulgence."

#

            After a late lunch of decadent French toast, wine and cheese, Victory, at her mother's insistent behest, slipped into a long, soothing bubble bath. After a light dinner and easy conversation, she was then shooed to bed for an early night and a late start in the morning. Despite Victory's many insistent demands and complaints, both her mother and best friend had conspired to see her bask in complete and utter relaxation—whether she wanted to or not.

Manicures, soothing music and cucumber slices—whatever it took, and before she knew where the day had gone, Aubrey and Niobe both set upon her with brush, comb and curlers, styling her hair and applying her makeup.

Whenever she'd tried to make a dash for her computer, to hunt down her phone to check emails, for every argument she could muster, the answer was always the same: It was out of her hands. And they were right, she realized, in a moment of calm reflection. The hard part was done, now all that remained was execution.

The food and service had to be flawless.

She had to be flawless.

Victory had inherited her mother's whiskey brown eyes and glossy black hair she wore short and sassy, and kept cleverly low-lighted. It suited her angular face, the delicate-as-a-rose petal skin over strong cheekbones and deep, long eyes of caramel. Her mouth, full and strongly sculpted lips were lightly unpainted, the rest of her makeup nicely subdued, accenting but letting her own inherent beauty shine.

There were lines, thin grooves etched over a lifetime, the cost of laughter and happiness some might say, fanning out from the corners of her dark eyes, but they didn't detract or diminish from her natural sparkle and luminosity.

She wore a confection of black that came low on her arms, tapering at the wrists and a demure plunge revealing a column of milk-white skin, enviably unmarred despite her retirement in the Caribbean.

There was no denying that Aubrey Clarke, as she had in every other area of her life, sashayed through her golden years with grace and poise.

            And if the fates are kind, Victory thought, they'll let me look like you when I reach your age.

"Oh, honey," Beaming in unadulterated joy, Aubrey stood in Victory's bedroom next to an awestruck Niobe, hands clasped together. "You're gorgeous."

A blush crept into Victory's cheeks to infuse her with a layering glow that shone straight to her eyes. After tearing through her closet, modeling dress after dress, Victory settled on a sizzling electric blue sheath that hugged and caressed her body in a way that was both business and party, capped on her shoulders showing off toned arms and enough of her killer legs to make the hellish months in the gym worth it.

Niobe had scooped back Victory's short hair in an elegant twisting up-do that again, appeared elegant and effortless, highlighting great cheekbones and her lush smile, soft with a hint of red for pop. And because the dress was such a statement on its own, she finished off the look with classic black pumps and a string of her mother's black Tahitian pearls.

Standing back, Victory assessed her reflection in the full-length mirror from all angles. The blue brought out the gold in her eyes, made them more whiskey than chocolate, and added warmth to her skin, drawing on her natural olive complexion. Pleased with the result, she turned and flung her arms wide for an affectionate embrace her mother enthusiastically stepped into. "Oh mom, I can't believe this moment is finally here."

A little teary, Aubrey's eyes, deep as shadows, misted with affection when she pulled back to cup Victory's face and plant a delicate kisses on either cheek, careful not to ruin her makeup. "We're so proud of you, sweetheart. You father and I, truly, we couldn't be more proud of what you've accomplished."

And there he stood, in the door way, a big man with his tawny hair and trim beard threaded with glints of pewter—and eased his way over to join the embrace. Tipping back her head, Victory, planted a noisy kiss on his cheek.

"Look at you, all dressed up." He flushed, gliding a hand down her back. "As lovely as your mother. How lucky am I to be surrounded by such beautiful women?"

Because the three of them standing there, arms around each other, created such a beautiful picture, Niobe unlocked her phone to capture the moment and tried not to wonder how different her life would have been if both of her parents had lived.