“Okay, my turn,” she says, typing on my phone.
“Finally. Now I can make fun of your music, and you can see how it feels. Let me guess, you’re a Swiftie,” I say, and she snorts.
“Not so much,” she says. She smirks at me as a song pours through the speakers.
“Is this the Cars?” I ask.
Charlotte answers by singing along to Let the Good Times Roll.
“Alright, alright,” I nod, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.
“My mom and I used to drive around town in the summers listening to these guys. Paula Abdul and Prince were always on when we went shopping. This was in Grand Junction, where I grew up. We’d go to K-Mart and the mall and get Chinese for lunch because my dad didn’t like Chinese so we never had it for dinner. I’d get a blue Icee, and she’d get a giant Diet Dr. Pepper. It was the best!”
“I love that,” I say.
“Yeah, I was an only child, so I got spoiled a lot in that way,” she says with a drifting smile, like she’s back in that car with her mom.
I wait a second before going on. “I have a question. It’s about the other day at the bridal shop.”
“Okay,” she says.
“Why were you so upset about the dress?”
“Because it was perfect,” she says.
“Perfect for her or for you?” I ask.
Charlotte chews her lip.
“For me,” she says pensively. I turn the music down as it switches to Al Green. “I don’t know. It’s silly.”
“How did you get into the wedding planning industry?” I ask.
“I love weddings,” she says. “And planning. I love working with people and listening to their dreams, and making them come to life for them. I love pulling all the details together for this big reveal. When the bride walks down the aisle, I love watching the groom’s face. Then the reception with the first dance and the cake and the music, and sparklers. It’s just the best, you know? It must be the most wonderful thing.”
“So I take it you’ve never been married before?” I ask.
“No,” she shakes her head. “I’ve only been in two relationships. One when I was in high school, and another one that ended not too long ago.”
“What happened with that one?” I ask. She shifts in her seat, her eyes distant.
“I wasn’t what he wanted,” she says after a moment.
“That means he wasn’t what you needed,” I say, and she swallows. She blinks a few times and clears her throat. She looks over at me, leaving that conversation behind.
“What about you? I know you were married and…” she trails off as people always do. No one wants to finish that sentence. But it’s been long enough that even though it still stings, it’s not a fully open wound.
“Allie died about seventeen years ago, when the kids were in middle school,” I tell her.
“Gosh, I can’t even imagine,” Charlotte says softly.
“You know, some days neither can I. Some mornings I wake up and I expect her to be lying there, her hair splayed out like a paintbrush over her pillow. The soft hum of her snores.”
“She snored?” Charlotte smiles.
“She snored,” I smile back. “She had a lot of quirks, and I loved every one of them.”
It’s quiet for a respectful moment before Charlotte clicks her tongue. “So how did you get into the ski resort business?” she asks, and I take a deep breath. “You know, I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection.”
