Meredith’s eyebrows arch and she crosses her arms defensively. “If this request is coming from your mother, you can assure her that I have no intention of creating a seating chart, no matter how many times she insists that it helps the flow of the room or whatever.”
“I’m here on my own accord. I swear.” I hold up my hand against my chest as if taking an oath. Meredith stares at me quizzically, determining if I’m to be trusted. And I hate that after losing her parents, Susan is the mother-in-law she is inheriting.
“It’s upstairs in our room, on the dresser.”
“Thanks, Mere,” I say, giving her shoulder a grateful squeeze as I pass by her and into the cabin.
I find the wedding binder exactly where she said. The contents are a disorganized mess. Illustrated drawings of bouquets are stuck between menu options and maps for hiking trails. Magazine clippings of dresses are glued onto cardstock and extra invitations are stuffed into a plastic sleeve.
I pass a section about the proper permits for the wedding ceremony at the Tetons and see that their application date is from two weeks ago. After working alongside the National Parks Service most of my life, I’m very aware that it can take months to get documents like this processed. Without a proper permit, they could be denied entry, fined, or face federal charges. Considering I do not see the actual permit number listed, I make a mental note to call in a favor to expedite the process.
Flipping to the next page I find the room assignments. Not only is every room accounted for, but every couch, futon, and cot is taken up by a cousin or a plus-one. There really is nowhere to move Mira. I’ve just set the binder down when Grant barges in, doing a double take when he finds me sitting at the vanity.
“Looking for makeup tips or considering a career in wedding planning?” he jabs, and I can’t believe there was a time in my life when I actually wanted a brother.
“Trying to keep Susan off your back,” I argue, knowing that is the one thing we can agree on.
“She’s already pissed off the staff,” Grant says, rummaging through the closet. “I swear if she racks up extra charges I’m sending her the bill.”
“As if your dad wouldn’t pay for it.”
Unlike my own father, who made me work for everything, George has been using his Black Card to fix Grant’s problems for as long as I can remember, facilitating his inability to grow up.
“Katherine said you were being an asshole lately, but I really see it now.”
“Better than being one my whole life,” I snipe back, irritated that Katherine would run off and complain about me, when she’s the one who wants to pretend that everything is perfect between us.
I’m already plotting an over-the-top breakup scene on the boat when Meredith rushes into the room.
“Babe,” she says, frazzled, “your mom is blowing up my phone.”
She holds out the screen towards the both of us as paragraph-long messages come in one after the other.
“She’s demanding to give a toast at the wedding, since she wasn’t asked to do it at the rehearsal,” Meredith sighs, taking a seat on the bed. “This is ridiculous. No one is speaking at the wedding. That’s why we decided to do it at the rehearsal. I just wanted our day to be fun, no pressure. Now I don’t even know what to say.”
“It doesn’t matter what you say,” Grant says, slipping on a pair of leather loafers. “Susan’s going to do what she wants either way; all you can do is go along with it.” He hands her a bottle of huckleberry vodka from the dresser. “My advice, have a drink and try not to think about it.”
I watch as she unscrews the cap and takes a swig directly from the bottle before handing it over to me.
If my problems could be dulled so easily, I’d drink the whole bottle, but blowing off steam for me involves disappearing into the wilderness for a few days with nothing but my backpack and a map. But even the best trails in the world can’t assuage my fear that Mira may never speak to me again.
10 Mira
In this job, I can grit my teeth and bear a lot of things: eating on the floor sans utensils, being asked to cut the cake for a hundred guests because they couldn’t afford to hire a caterer, being treated like an errand girl as I rush tissues or ring boxes or double-sided tape from one side of a venue to another, but sleeping in the same room as Hudson andhis girlfriendis where I draw the line.
There has to be an alternative option. A hammock, or a neighboring property with an Airstream? I’d even be willing to befriend the bears and spend the rest of the week eating porridge in the woods, if it meant I didn’t have to go back to that room. But it’s not like I can just leave. I don’t have a car.
I could try rideshare again once I’ve found a new place to stay, but with spotty service and the height-of-tourist-season wait times, it’d be risky. But it has to be worth a try, right?
Digging out the brochure from my back pocket, I open the Wi-Fi network and type in the password, chuckling to myself.Bestvacationever! More likePayingformytherapistssummerhome123. I wait for several minutes, refreshing my browser until I determine that the network is non-functional.
That familiar ache pulses in my chest as I clutch my phone in my hand, ignoring the urge to call Phoebe. For the past seven yearsshe’s been my go-to person, my emergency contact, the one to talk me off more ledges than I care to count, and I know that with all her connections she would find a way to get me out of this mess, even if meant driving all the way from North Carolina to come save me. But now I can’t even think about her without inducing a panic attack.
Staring up at the second-floor balcony I remember Derrick’s open-door policy. I’m sure I wouldn’t have to try too hard to persuade him to give up his bed for the evening. But before desperation can take hold, I hear Vanessa shouting my name.
She’s leaning over the railing above, waving at me. “Help! I have a fashion emergency,” she declares as I bound up the stairs, eager for something to do.
She’s wearing a lilac romper, her hair pulled back to display long gold earrings that shimmer in the sunlight, as she turns her back to me.
