Caroline smiled despite herself, recognizing the truth in his words. "She would have had opinions. Probably about the asymmetry of these buttons."
Finn's mouth quirked in what might have been the beginning of a smile. "Definitely."
They stood in silence for a moment, the empty chapel now quiet around them save for the distant sound of gulls calling outside. Caroline was acutely aware of his presence beside her, the slight scent of cedar that seemed to cling to him, the way his hands – large, capable hands that had so gently held Ellen in her final moments – now hung uncertainly at his sides.
"Everyone keeps asking about the shop," she said finally, giving voice to the question that hung heaviest in the air. "What happens next."
Finn turned to face her fully, his expression serious. "What do you want to happen next?"
The directness of the question caught her off-guard. At work, she would have had a prepared answer, a strategy mapped out with contingencies and exit plans. Here, in this chapel filled with the memory of a woman she'd barely known but was somehow responsible for honoring, she found only uncertainty.
"I don't know," Caroline admitted, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. In her professional life, she always knew – or at least, projected confidence until certainty manifested. "Ellen said the shop would be mine after she’d gone. She asked me to understand it, not just assess it. To know the brides, the dresses." She touched the frame containing Ellen's handwriting. "I'm not sure I know how to do that."
Finn studied her, his gaze thoughtful rather than judgmental. "Maybe that's the point," he said finally. "Maybe understanding comes through the doing, not before it."
Something about his words resonated with her, echoing her aunt’s approach to both business and life – an intuitive process that valued experience over analysis.
It ran counter to everything else in Caroline’s world, yet in this moment, it felt like the only path forward.
"One day at a time," Finn said, almost to himself. "That's what she would say. Just get through today.” He offered his arm, a gesture both old-fashioned and oddly comforting.
After a moment's hesitation, Caroline accepted it, feeling the solid warmth of him through the sleeve of his suit jacket.
Together, they stepped out of the chapel into the spring sunlight, moving forward into the uncertainty that Ellen had left in her wake.
41
Late afternoon lightstretched across the weathered floorboards of The Dune Deck, painting everything in honey-gold as the party for the wedding that never was filed inside.
Having paid their respects to Ellen Doyle at a hastily-arranged community gathering for coffee and sandwiches after the church service, the wedding party moved on to the bar, uncertain what to do for the remainder of a day that had been so perfectly planned, now postponed.
Jess moved through the door first, her gaze immediately finding a window seat in the far corner that overlooked the harbor. Without a word to anyone, she drifted toward it, her dark clothing absorbing the light. Julian followed a few several steps behind, his suit jacket slung over one shoulder, tie already loosened and collar unbuttoned.
The last-minute change in plan had undone his usual precise appearance - hair slightly disheveled, eyes reddened from alcohol or simply lack of sleep. He moved straight to the bar, leaning heavily against its polished surface.
"Whiskey for me," he called to Lila, who stood arranging glasses behind the counter. "And..." he glanced around at thegroup filing in behind him, "whatever everyone else wants. Open tab. Least I can do since I'm not paying for a wedding reception." His attempt at humor fell flat, drawing disapproving looks from a few locals in the vicinity.
Nadine winced visibly and moved with purpose toward the largest table, her slim frame tense with contained stress. "Let's all sit here," she directed robotically, her voice brittle. "I've got the seating arrangement memorized from the rehearsal dinner, so we can just - "
"Nadine," Lila interrupted gently, coming around the bar to touch her arm. "I've got it covered, honey. Why don't you sit? First drink's on me."
Something in Lila's kind but firm tone seemed to puncture Nadine's demeanor. For a moment, she looked like she might object, but then her shoulders slumped a little. "Of course, that’s silly. You're right. I was just thinking - "
"You've been thinking for everyone else for too long," Megan commented gently. "Take a break."
She slipped quietly into a chair beside Sloane. None of Jess’s bridesmaids spoke, but their eyes tracked the same path, following Jess as she settled alone into her window seat, curling one leg beneath her in a posture that seemed way too relaxed for someone whose wedding had just been canceled.
"She seems oddly calm," Sloane observed quietly. “Didn’t complain once, not about the ruined dress, or when her folks suggested postponing the wedding. Nothing."
Megan's fingers twisted the stem of her empty water glass. "People process disappointment differently."
Sloane's eyebrow arched. "Does that look like disappointment to you?"
Before Megan could respond, Julian appeared at the table, precariously balancing a tray of drinks. He distributed glasseswith exaggerated care, sloshing only a little whiskey onto the worn wood table. His own tumbler was already half-empty.
Unlike his bride-to-be, Julian's habitual self-control had been unraveling since the decision to postpone the wedding had been made - ‘out of respect for Ellen Doyle and the Nantucket the community’, according to the carefully worded message the Whitmores had distributed to guests. Though no mention of the fact that the bride didn’t have a wedding dress either.
"You should sit, Julian," Megan suggested gently. "Have you actually eaten today?"
