Cindy grabbed her own notebook, scribbling as Dominique rattled through details. Instagram lives, bridal interviews, drone shots.
By the time the influencer wound down, Cindy felt both exhilarated and utterly out of her depth.
“So happy to talk to you, Cindy,” Dominique said, blowing a kiss to the camera. “Second chances never looked so intimate, intentional, or incredible. This could blow up.”
As long as it didn’t blow up…in her face. “Okay. Great.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
The screen went dark.
Cindy lowered the phone and walked slowly toward the trellis. The old, curved wood seemed to sag under Dominique’s verdict, though Cindy knew it was as strong as the day Owen built it. She brushed her hand over the carved initials, tracing the grooves of O + I, the year 1939 etched forever.
Her throat tightened. It wasn’t perfect, no—but it wastheirs. It carried love, history, family. Every vow spoken here would be stronger for it.
And yet Dominique was right: to outsiders, it wasn’t beautiful. To a bride scrolling Instagram, it might even look shabby.
Cindy’s heart twisted and she dialed her daughter’s number. She needed someone to talk to, and something told her Jack wasn’t the one for this conversation. He’d tell Dominique “Your Arch Is Shabby” Parrish to take a hike right over a cliff.
And Cindy still wanted Aisle Files to happen. Only just a tiny bit less now.
Cindy paceda slow figure eight up and down an imaginary aisle, pausing at the raised platform to stare at the trellis. With every step, she replayed Dominique’s comments all bright and sure, telling her all the things to do and one thing to undo.
“Here I am!” The door opened with a quick whoosh and Nicole bounced in, cheeks pink from the chill, a knit cap shoved into her jacket pocket so her midnight locks fell over her shoulder. “Ski Shed just closed up, so I’m all yours. Didn’t you have your call with Dominique?”
“Yes.” Cindy dropped back on the same chair she’d been on before. “It went well. She’s…wow. Quite a force.”
“I know,” Nicole said, moving around the room like a producer scouting a set. “I deep-dive stalked her while you were on the phone. We knew she was a big influencer, but this lady basicallyownsthe wedding internet. Mom, this is abigdeal.”
“I know,” Cindy said softly. “And she loved the Starling Room and loved my story with Dad even more.”
“I knew it!” Nicole gave a clap and sat in one of the other chairs, shouldering out of her coat. “It’s the stuff dreams are made of.”
Cindy laughed lightly. “She also loved the one-stop shop concept. Ceremony here, then cocktail hour while we flip the room, then reception and dance floor with the band tucked over there.” She pointed, and Nicole followed her finger with a satisfied nod. “She said it’s all the rage. Her followers want prettyandpractical.”
“Well, I certainly do,” Nicole agreed, no doubt thinking of her own wedding taking place on New Year’s Eve in this very room. “Okay, what else? What trends? What shots? Tell me everything she wants to do.”
Cindy launched into it, the ideas spilling as she remembered them all. “She talked about TikTok transitions—like a before-and-after flip of the room. A slow walk down the aisle with trending audio. Behind-the-scenes reels: me with the florist, you with the lighting guy, Jack checking out the sleigh rides outside. Maybe a quick interview about second chances.”
Nicole’s grin got huge. “This is perfect. This is exactly the kind of kickstart Snowberry Weddings needs. What a coup!”
Cindy pressed her fingertips to her lips as if she could keep in the bad part. “There was just…one weird thing.”
Nicole’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
Cindy hesitated, then stood and walked to the platform, climbing up to where the trellis stood. She put a hand on it, trying to forget how Dominique had viciously described it. She wouldn’t share that with Nicole—then she and Cameron wouldn’t want to get married under it.
“She said this has to go. She said it’s, um, not…Instagram worthy.”
Nicole’s mouth rounded. “Oof.”
“She was pretty insistent,” Cindy said, hearing the disappointment in her own voice. “In fact, it wasn’t really up for discussion. She said sentimental things don’t make for good social media. People want picture-perfect Instagram, not some old family wooden thing that means nothing to anyone who isn’t a Starling.”
Nicole winced in sympathy. “Well, I want it at my wedding, but then, I’m from Starling blood. I guess I get it. The vibe in here is so ethereal—those drapes, the light, the beams—and the trellis is…well, it’s rustic in a way that doesn’t photograph ashigh-end unless you style the heck out of it.” She shrugged and stood, walking to the platform. “So we move it.”
Cindy bit her lip. “I don’t…” She sighed. “I think your dad is going to be disappointed. He really has so much respect for Starling family history.”
She considered that, nodding and squinting at the trellis. “What about a compromise?”
