ChapterOne
MINNA
“This isimpossiblyfancy. Are you sure we have the right address?” Millie’s voice is awestruck as the cab passes through the wrought-iron gates of the club.
I glance down at my phone to double-check the address. The cab continues slowly down a long driveway, through beautifully manicured grounds. We pass a maze on one side and some kind of fruit orchard on the other.
“This is it. Crested Peak Country Club. Who knew there were places this luxurious only thirty miles from Snowflake Falls?”
“I’ll need to see if Stone will agree to a membership here. What do you reckon?” She giggles.
I smile. Her husband Stone is a big, gruff gardener who’s most happy with dirty hands and working outdoors come rain or shine. “I think he’d do anything if he thought it would make you happy.”
Millie shakes her head. “He’dhatethis. I couldn’t do it to him. But for you…I know you like a bit of luxury, m’lady.” My best friend calls me ‘m’lady’ because she says I remind her of one of the Bridgerton characters.
“What’s that saying? Champagne lifestyle, lemonade budget? Mine is more like a lemonade lifestyle, water budget. Does that even make sense?” I stare out of the window. “Ooh, look at those beautiful gothic columns on that arch…”
“Is that what they are?”
“Yes. Replica, of course, but very well done.” This place is like somewhere one of my heroines would come to pine for the brooding hero haunting her dreams. I stare out of the window, weaving the loose threads of an idea together. One thing I love about being a writer is that you never stop writing. You’re always putting potential story ideas in your story vault, wherever you go.
I turn to face Millie, grabbing her hand excitedly as the front of the club comes into view. It’s huge, with enormous pillars decorated with elaborate carvings at the front and trailing white roses smothering the walls. It looks like one of those British aristocrats' houses; stately, beautiful, and slightly intimidating.
“This is like Downton Freakin’ Abbey. IknewI shouldn’t have worn jeans.” Millie’s voice is awed.
“You’ll be fine. Hopefully, this whole shoot won’t take too long. Anyway we’re meant to go in the back door. Driver, could you please take this side turning and go around to the back?”
“Servant’s entrance?” She winks at me.
I put on a terrible British accent. “Splendid,my dear girl. And remember, no funny business with the butler!”
We both start laughing as the cab parks by a far more modest set of doors. People dressed in black uniforms are scurrying in and out carrying piles of boxes. A harassed-looking guy with a clipboard waves at us and rushes over, opening the car door so we can get out. I carefully maneuver the garment bag with my wedding gown in it out of the door.
“Miss Minna Dawes?”
“That’s me. This is my friend, Millie, she’s helping with hair and makeup.”
“Delighted. I’m Daniel. Okay, we’re rushing to get everything in place. The schedule istight.If you follow me, I’ll explain on the way.” He stops one of the scurrying workers. “Nathan, can you take their bags up to the Primrose Room?”
We follow Daniel as he marches off without looking behind him. I sneak a glance at Millie, both of us trying not to laugh like little kids trailing behind the teacher.
“You have ninety minutes to get ready. It will have to be enough, we’re scheduled to start at one o’clock sharp. Are you hungry?”
“A little, but we’ve had breakfast.”
“I’ll send up some sandwiches. That’s the dress?”
“Yes. The last time I used it was for a Miss Havisham cosplay, but it’s been dry-cleaned since then.”
Daniel looks at me like I’m talking gibberish and holds open a door. Behind it is a set of narrow, winding stairs leading up to a large, yellow-painted room. There’s a vanity table with a bunch of styling equipment already set out and one of those mirrors with lights around it.
“Help yourself to champagne, it’s in the fridge. Glasses are on the table. I’ll be back in an hour with the paperwork. Remember, ladies, the clock is ticking!” He nearly runs out of the door.
“We better get started, then…” Millie widens her eyes at me.
I put on the British accent again. “On the champagne? Excellent idea, my dear girl.”
An hour later, we’re both a little tipsy. I’m laced into the elaborate lace wedding gown and Millie’s done an amazing job on my hair and makeup. She’s on the phone talking to her husband, all her attention on the call.
