“You’re probably staying all weekend, right?” Lola called as she snuck back toward the office.
“Guess so,” Everett said. He scanned the little foyer until his eyes found a hanging portrait of a family: a woman who very much seemed the spitting image of both Christine and Lola, with her arms wrapped around three darling girls. A man towered over all of them, the formidable father.
It was funny, Everett thought, the types of people you met on the road. He could never fully prepare himself for it.
“Here we go,” Lola said brightly, directing him toward a staircase that wound up toward the higher floors. “Your room is on the third floor. It has a beautiful view of the Sound. I think you’re going to love it.”
Everett followed her up and paused outside the room as she turned on the lights and inspected it. “Looks clean to me,” she said. “What do you think?”
“It’s perfect. All I need is a place to lay my head,” he said.
“Ha. You’re so charming,” Lola responded. “Don’t make the bride run away with you.”
He laughed as Lola walked around him, back toward the hallway. “We have Thanksgiving dinner at around one in the afternoon.” She reached into her purse, grabbed a little piece of paper, and scribbled the address. She then passed it to him. “Does that work for you?”
“Of course. Should I bring anything?”
“Don’t be silly. We’ll have more than enough of everything to go around. Just prepare yourself mentally for my family. We can be... a lot.”
Everett—whose family had always been bitter, cross, quiet—grinned wider. “I think I can handle it.”
Chapter Seven
It was one in the morning on Thanksgiving Day. Charlotte hovered over the dining room table at the Sheridan family house, her phone pressed hard against her ear, as she strained to hear Ursula’s personal assistant, Tobias, from all the way in Sicily. In front of her was her massive book of dates, times, details, along with a filled glass of wine, a half-eaten croissant, and Audrey and Rachel, in two different chairs, both on the verge of falling asleep.
“What was that, Tobias?” Charlotte asked.
“I said that the snow you guys have been getting—wow! It’s um. It’s a lot. I spoke with our private pilot, and he’s a bit nervous about the weather,” Tobias said.
Charlotte furrowed her brow. It was you guys who talked non-stop about this snow-capped wedding or whatever. The weather is here, and you’re not ready for it? What’s that about?
“We’re still receiving most of our flight traffic,” Charlotte replied. She had spoken at length with one of the airport operators that afternoon. “I don’t think you’ll have trouble landing. It’s Martha’s Vineyard. We’re used to handling a good bit of snow.”
Tobias lowered his voice ominously. “I think our bride has grown a tiny bit anxious about the whole affair and is looking for any reason to rip me in two, to be quite honest with you, Charlotte.”
“I see.”
“But I’ll speak to her. I’ll assure her again that the flights won’t be a problem.” He paused for a moment.
In the background, Charlotte could hear a flurry of spoken Italian. “You must be homesick, so far away on Thanksgiving,” she said.
“Oh, not at all,” Tobias said. “I love this life. I get to go all over the world. And really, Ursula is a dear friend. It’s just a chaotic week for all of us. I look forward to sending her off on her honeymoon, so I can sit down with a piece of pumpkin pie and shut my own pie hole for a little while.” He chuckled, then added, “Thank you for your patience, Charlotte. You’ve been a dream. And I know the wedding will go off without a hitch. Or—if there are any hitches—I know you’ll find a way to iron them out.”
“That’s what I do,” Charlotte said.
When Charlotte hung up, she sent along another brief of information regarding where the bride was meant to stay in the mansion, where the groom was meant to stay, where their family members would be stationed—and where the bridal party was meant to go. Of course, Charlotte would be there with them every step of the way to ensure there weren’t any mishaps. In her experience, however, it was always better to send the info ahead of time, just to keep things organized.
“What would I do without you?” Jason had always said, referring to her organizational skills.
Admittedly, if Charlotte had allowed Jason to handle things like yearly taxes, he would have somehow found a way to foreclose the house and maybe even get them arrested. He was that bad.
Audrey hiccupped awake and blinked at her mother’s cousin. She placed a hand over her pregnant stomach and said, “Is everything okay? You sounded... stressed.”
“Have I gone a single moment without sounding stressed since this all began?” Charlotte asked.
“Good question. The answer is no,” Audrey said, delivering that sneaky smile of hers.
“What are you guys doing still up?” Susan Sheridan walked down from the top floor of the Sheridan residence, wigless, her hair still incredibly short after all the chemo. She gave them a sleepy smile and turned her attention to the book on the table before Charlotte.
“Just last-minute wedding things,” Audrey said. “And I’m working hard.”
“Or hardly working,” Charlotte said, teasing her.
“It’s horrible, the things places of employment make pregnant people do these days,” Audrey affirmed.
That moment, the back door barked open to reveal Christine and Lola, talking a bit too loud, revealing their tipsiness. When they arrived at the kitchen, Susan pressed her finger over her lips and said, “Shush! Dad’s asleep.”
“Oops,” Christine said, before bursting into giggles.
“What’s gotten into you guys? Where were you?” Susan asked.
Charlotte rolled her eyes inwardly. Although her cousins had been incredibly helpful over the past few weeks, she couldn’t help but ache with jealousy at their ability to just go out and get drunk.
“It’s the night before Thanksgiving, Susie!” Lola said. “And we met a handsome stranger at the bar.
