Christine pulled up a photograph of the two young lovers, Orion and Ursula, and flashed the image around for all to see. Ursula was a classic blonde bombshell, very Marilyn Monroe, with large breasts, large blue eyes, and bright red lipstick. Beside her in the photograph was Orion himself, who was maybe seven feet tall, towering over her five-foot-four frame.
“They’re hot,” Lola breathed.
“Yes,” Charlotte said. “Looking at them makes me want to faint all over again.”
“Have you told them you will do it?” Christine asked.
“Not yet. I said I would say one way or the other by the end of the day,” Charlotte affirmed.
“Oh my gosh. Just do it!” Christine said.
Charlotte furrowed her brow. “It’s just that, since it’s autumn, a lot of the people I would ordinarily hire for something like this have left the island. I don’t have the resources I normally do for other weddings. And beyond that, this particular wedding is three weeks away. It’s almost impossible.”
Lola snapped her fingers. “You should hold it at the Quarry Estate in Edgartown.”
Charlotte arched her brow. The Quarry Estate had been built in 1888 and was one of the most sought-after wedding venues on the island. Ordinarily, her clients couldn’t afford anything like it; it was the lap of luxury, of artistry, teeming with history.
“Let me call them now to see if they have the date free,” Lola announced.
Before Charlotte could stop her, Lola was on her phone with the people who owned the Quarry Estate. “November 27. That Saturday. Yes. You have it free?” Lola’s eyes bugged out with excitement. “Okay. We need to book it. It’s perfect.” She then glanced up toward Charlotte and whispered, “And probably Friday as well, right?”
Charlotte’s stomach clenched with panic. Was this Lola, pushing her into yet another situation? Before she knew what she had done, she nodded.
“Sure. It has the two wings. One side for wedding and reception—the side with that gorgeous view of the water, and the other side for the rehearsal dinner,” Christine said, nodding with finality.
“We’re going to need it for both nights. That’s right,” Lola said brightly. “We’ll put down the deposit shortly. Thanks so much, Josh. Yep. Talk soon.”
When Lola placed her phone back on the table, she clasped her hands together, leaned forward, and said, “Don’t think for a minute you’re not going to plan this wedding, just because a few people left the island for the season. You have me. You have Christine—baker extraordinaire. Your sister does flowers for a living and Zach? He’s a world-famous caterer.”
Charlotte closed her eyes tightly and rubbed at her temples. In what world could she explain that she just didn’t feel up to this? It felt like too much, a weight she couldn’t get out from under.
“Oh! And I can write a big description of the event for The New York Times,” Lola said. “They always like big, socialite parties, especially ones that take place on Martha’s Vineyard. It’s all a bit sparse now since it’s autumn. They’ll be hungry for this one. Oh, and since it’s so spontaneous—the story will sell for top dollar.”
“It’s one of the craziest things I’ve ever heard,” Christine affirmed. “Getting married on Martha’s Vineyard in three weeks? But we’re here for you. We can help with anything.”
“And Audrey is so bored at home right now,” Lola offered. “Normally, she would complain all day long about doing something like this, but I think she’ll jump at the chance to help.”
“What about Susan?” Charlotte asked.
“Probably a little too tired yet,” Christine said. “The chemo was a success—thank God—but she’s still grabbing as much sleep as she can.”
“I’m sure she won’t refuse if you invite her to the wedding, though,” Lola said.
Charlotte sipped her glass of wine contemplatively. Her heart hammered with fear. “What kind of cake would you make, Christine?” she asked. “The personal assistant said the sky’s the limit in terms of cost. So—the most expensive cake you can dream up. What would it be?”
Christine lit up as she thought for a moment, twirling her glass of wine. “It goes without saying that it should have many, many tiers on it—at least eight. Sometimes, I like to go more delicate with the design—like, say, if it had a number of edible flowers on it, I would find it interesting to make many of the flowers different types. Oh, but I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. I only have three weeks to make this thing. I don’t want to fall apart, making each unique and individual flower.”
Slowly, the pieces began to align themselves in Charlotte’s mind. It seemed incredible that anything like this could even fall through without a hitch. It was certainly an investment of her time, her energy—and something that had a high probability of killing her or keeping her distracted.
But it was an adventure she couldn’t refuse. It was an opportunity of a lifetime.
“Okay. Okay. If you think we can do this...” She looked at her cousins with a grin from across the table.
“The Sheridan and Montgomery cousins can do anything together,” Lola insisted. “I don’t want to hear another doubtful phrase out of you over the next three weeks.”
“Do you think we’ll have to skip Thanksgiving?” Charlotte asked.
“No way! We’ll just cram the turkey-roasting in with everything else,” Lola said.
“I can make pumpkin pie in my sleep,” Christine insisted.
“I’ve seen her do it,” Lola affirmed. “It’s actually really frightening.”
“And you promise it won’t break us all up,” Charlotte said. The edge of her mouth flickered into a smile.
“No way. We’ve been through so much worse—and if we fail this wedding, well... I’m sure it’s not the kind of marriage that will last, anyway,” Lola said, giving her a wink.
“No way. I’ll give them six months regardless of what happens,” Christine said.
Charlotte full-on laughed. “Rachel is going to kill me. I basically just told her that we wouldn’t have much work for a while. And now, here I am, stuffing us with more work than we know what
