Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Don’t waste any of your camera space on me. I’m the wedding planner. I get paid to be as invisible as possible.”
“Come on. This is the last day of your anonymity,” Everett argued. “After this, your phone is going to ring off the hook.”
Charlotte allowed him to snap one, two, three photos until she whipped up her hands and said, “Enough! I have to go help my decorators. And if I’m not mistaken, I promised you a few jobs as well.”
“I’m here to serve,” Everett said. “I spotted a few other photographers in Oak Bluffs, by the way. Tabloid people, probably coming to stand outside the mansion and take photos as people come in beforehand.”
“Great,” Charlotte said sarcastically. “Even more drama to deal with.”
“In twenty-four hours, this will all be over.”
“Yeah. Or the mansion will be on fire, Ursula will want my head, and the newsstands will all read, ‘Infamous Wedding Planner on the Run,’” Charlotte said.
“Wherever you end up, send me a secret letter, so I know,” Everett said.
“You mean like The Shawshank Redemption?” Charlotte asked.
“Exactly. Glad you got it.”
Charlotte half-skipped into the mansion to find her incredible crew hard at work on the decorations. The place looked astounding, almost exactly the way she had pictured it, with more than fifteen Christmas trees decorated with gorgeous hanging bulbs made of crystal, chandeliers that reflected the beautiful sunlight that streamed in from the east, and long, thin tables reminiscent of long-ago balls held at that very mansion. As she gazed out at her dearest family members, Rachel rose up on a ladder and placed a perfect crystal bulb near the top of the largest Christmas tree. She inspected it, her hands on her hips, pleased.
Everything was suddenly falling into place.
Which meant, of course, that it was time for the phone to ring with news of disaster.
Chapter Eighteen
“Charlotte? Charlotte, is that you?”
Charlotte immediately recognized the frantic voice of Ursula’s mother, who she had spoken to only briefly the day before but many times over the previous weeks.
“Yes, of course. What’s wrong?” Her heart pattered wildly in her throat.
“Charlotte, you need to get up here. We have a little bit of a situation.”
“Are you in Ursula’s suite?” Charlotte asked.
“No. Um.” Wind crackled and whipped across the phone on the other end, proof that they were outside somewhere. “I’m not sure where we are, to be honest with you. She just burst outside and started to run...”
Ugh.
“Okay. Can you describe your surroundings, maybe?”
“It’s this long, skinny strip of sand,” Mrs. Pennington continued. “I don’t know. I see a sign, but it’s all covered with snow.”
“Joseph Sylvia. Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Charlotte said.
Charlotte pressed her phone to her chest and blinked up into the lovely eyes of Everett Rainey.
“You look like something’s wrong,” he told her.
“Something seems to always be wrong with this wedding,” she replied. She suddenly erupted with a hiccup and felt so embarrassed. She placed her hand over her mouth abruptly and grimaced. “I’m so sorry. I think the stress is just...” She hiccupped again.
Everett’s smile was infectious. “Let me guess. You have to go find Ursula?”
Charlotte nodded with her hand still pressed over her mouth. Her entire body jumped again with another hiccup. “But I can’t go like this,” she said, her voice quivering through her fingers. “Not with the hiccups. Ugh! Today started out so well!”
“Just breathe deeply,” Everett told her. “In for four counts, out for four counts. You’re just stressed. I used to get the hiccups all the time before piano competitions.”
Charlotte let her hand drop and followed Everett’s guidance: in for four, out for four. Slowly, she walked toward the exit, totally focused on her breath and her footwork. By the time she grabbed her coat from the coatroom, she felt the hiccups dissipate.
“That actually worked...” she said to Everett, who had followed her with his camera.
“I told you.”
“Wait. You play piano? Never mind. I’d like to ask you more about this, but right now...”
“Ursula calls,” Everett affirmed.
Gumdrop-sized snowflakes floated down from the sky. Charlotte gripped the top of her skirt to allow her legs to stretch out before her, limber and quick. Everett hustled beside her. The air felt sharp in her throat, yet so clear. It was like drinking ice water.
When they reached the Joseph Sylvia State Beach, they stopped short at the sight before them.
Near the waves, wearing only her stark white and barely-there wedding dress, stood Ursula.
The picture itself was one of the most beautiful images Charlotte had ever seen.
The wind whipped Ursula’s blonde locks around and tore at the bottom of her lacey wedding dress, curving it across the sand. Her hands lifted her skirts slightly at the front to allow her toes to tip into the very first of the rushing waves. As the chilly water rushed toward her ankles, Ursula’s bright red lips curved into a smile.
“She looks like she has totally lost it,” Charlotte breathed, placing a hand on her forehead. How would she get Ursula back into the mansion?
Everett snapped several photos. Charlotte couldn’t blame him. The sight was extraordinary. Someone had to record it.
Ursula’s mother was several feet behind her daughter, calling her name. The sound of it was tremendously horrible, strained, and sad.
“Ursula, baby, come back over here. Let’s talk about it! Come now. It’s so chilly out here. You’re going to catch a cold.”
Charlotte hustled the rest of the way to Ursula’s mother, careful not to get too close to the icy water or Ursula herself. When she reached Mrs. Pennington, the woman gave her a look of incredulity, like, Who are you?
“Mrs. Pennington. I came as quickly as I could.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Mrs. Pennington’s eyes filled with tears. “She’s a tiny bit drunk, I’m afraid, and having second thoughts.”
Charlotte’s heart surged with fear. “Second thoughts are totally normal. I see this all the time with young brides on their wedding day.”
In actuality,
