He’d tell her. And then he’d deal with what came.
After six months of planning, Nora’s wedding weekend had finally arrived.
Britt completed her responsibilities at Sweet Art at two on Friday, then ran by the grocery store. She stocked her fridge and performed a final inspection to make sure her home was ready for the two female cousins who were slated to stay with her tonight and tomorrow night.
She drove from her place to Nora’s Bookish Cottage to drop off a celebratory box of chocolate she’d made special for the occasion. For half an hour, they sat on Nora’s back deck, drinking Nora’s homemade tea blend, talking, and eating chocolate.
Then Britt continued to Bradfordwood to help Mom, Dad, Valentina, and Clint with preparations. Her parents were hosting several family members, both at the main house and at the inn. Willow and Corbin were housing the rest.
She returned home in time to welcome her cousins, shower, and dress for the rehearsal.
Nora had opted to marry John at the Hartnett Chapel, the quaint white clapboard structure that reigned over Merryweather Historical Village. Since the chapel wasn’t large enough to accommodate all the guests, rows of white chairs would be arranged on the village’s central green and the ceremony would take place on the chapel’s elevated front porch.
Happily, tomorrow’s forecast promised a rainless, partly sunny, seventy-degree day. Nora wasn’t going to have to activate her back-up rain plan, which meant the wedding party didn’t need to practice in two venues. Only one.
During the rehearsal, the wedding coordinator put the couple, the four bridesmaids, the four groomsmen, the two flower girls, the ring bearer, the attendants, the ushers, and the parents and grandparents of the bride and groom through their paces.
That done, the group gathered with visiting family for a rehearsal dinner hosted by John’s parents. The evening overflowed with conversation, affection, and tiramisu.
Every time Britt turned around, she was approached by a distant relative of hers or John’s. The evening was completely and totally full.... Or it would have been, if Zander’s absence hadn’t shot a hole straight through the center of it.
The emotions that warred within her whenever she was with him lately exhausted her. She wanted to feel relieved over the opportunity to take a night off. Instead, she simply felt hollow.
When she fell into bed that night, she willed sleep to come. Defiantly, her brain raced. Nora—herNora—was getting married tomorrow. And then both of her sisters would be married.
She could probably look forward to nieces and nephews soon,which rocked, because she intended to be the coolest aunt in the history of aunts.
She didn’t pine for marriage and, truthfully, it would have rubbed her the wrong way if her sisters hadn’t married before her. Even so, a trace of sorrow swirled within her because, after Nora’s wedding, she wouldn’t be able to relate to either of her sisters about this new and enormous aspect of their lives.
They’d both have husbands. They’d both bewives. Wives! Willow and Nora were building homes in Marriage Land, a place Britt had no access to.
Consciously, she relaxed her muscles, then tested some yoga breathing.
A picture of Zander materialized in her mind. He was walking toward her the day he’d returned to Merryweather from his Grand Tour. His body language communicated isolation. Yet the attention he fixed on her revealed how much he valued their relationship. A smile stole over his mouth almost as if it didn’t have permission. His eyes were world-weary. His soul, loyal.
Her heart reached out with stark longing.
She wasn’t ready for marriage. But a renegade portion of her did want a great love.
“You look beautiful,” Dad said to Nora the next day.
“You do,” Britt, Willow, and Mom all immediately agreed.
Nora loved vintage-inspired clothing, and that preference carried over to her wedding dress. She wore an off-the-shoulder white gown. The snug bodice and three-quarter-length sleeves had been overlaid with delicate lace. A satin belt encircled her waist, highlighted at the front by a pin glittering with gems. Her taffeta skirt jetted out into a wide circle. In lieu of a veil, a small tiara graced her head. She’d parted her hair on the side, then let it glide smoothly down to her shoulders.
The elegant effect harkened back, in a subtle way, to the 1950s.Today, on her wedding day, she looked like the most stunning version of herself.
The ceremony was scheduled to start in ten minutes, at five p.m., and all of Nora’s one thousand plans had come together seamlessly. The wedding party, wedding coordinators, hair and makeup people, florist, and photographer had been using the MacKenzie Timber Barn, which stood next to the Hartnett Chapel, as a staging area. When Dad had asked if he could speak with them just now, they’d gathered in one of the barn’s private back rooms, decked out in their finery.
Dad, in a tux. Mom, in a beaded sheath the hue of champagne. Willow and Britt, in their blush-colored bridesmaid dresses. Britt, who’d never been a fan of constricting garments, approved. Her chiffon skirt flowed to the floor in easy, dreamy, elegant lines.
Each bridesmaid had been free to choose a hairstyle that the stylist then accented with pale pink rosebuds. Willow had gone for an elaborate low bun. Britt had opted to let the stylist weave the roses into a loose braid.
They held one another’s hands, forming a circle.
The Bradford family.
“John’s a lucky man,” Dad said.
