She lifted the bulk of her skirt and, like an extra from Gone with the Wind, rustled toward the hall. When she didn’t see anyone, she went back to the window, but then heard faint whispering and turned back to the hallway to see that Fred Sutton, the town’s undertaker and Todd’s stepfather, was talking with her mother in hushed tones.
Finally. It was starting.
Their voices rose and fell. Lara turned her attention back to the window, sure whatever details the two of them were tackling didn’t concern her.
Fred was heading back down the stairs when, out of the corner of her eye, Lara saw him stop, then march down the hall toward her, the floor pulsing with every heavy footstep. He placed his thick hands on her forearms with such force that he nearly lifted her up off the floorboards. His sudden movement shocked her so much that she stepped back, almost toppling over a half-moon kindergarten table behind her. Fred leaned in and whispered in her ear, his lips touching her borrowed diamond earring. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”
Had she misheard? Lara spoke her next words carefully. “He’s not here?”
Fred looked down at his black, mirror-shiny rental shoes. “Not exactly.”
What did not exactly mean? She looked over at her mother for clarification. Audrey seemed to be taking in this information as she would news of a car wreck.
Fred’s voice sounded more like a plea. “He went to clean his car and he wasn’t back when we left for the church. We didn’t think anything was wrong.”
It was the word wrong that struck her. Something here was terribly wrong, wasn’t it? She could feel it. “When did you see him last?”
“Around noon.” Fred consulted his watch as though it somehow held the answer.
Things like this didn’t happen. Lara searched her mind trying to remember the last bad thing that had happened in Kerrigan Falls. Old people died, although usually quite peacefully in their beds. There hadn’t been a car accident or a house fire in her lifetime. And certainly, people weren’t just plucked from the streets. They showed up for their weddings.
“Where is his tuxedo?” Lara’s face flared hot, and her throat began to tighten. She could imagine the rented tuxedo still draped across Todd’s childhood twin bed.
“It was still on the bed when we left.” Fred met her eyes. “We brought it… just in case—”
“Just in case…?” Lara cut in. This was all the answer she needed. A sudden hot pressure of tears welled up inside her. Looking down at the bouquet of tightly packed calla lilies in her hand, she felt as though she were holding a ridiculous prop. She lowered her arm and quietly dropped the bouquet onto the floor. If he’d left the tuxedo on his bed, Todd Sutton wasn’t planning on coming to their wedding, that much she was sure of. But why? When she’d seen him last night, he’d been so different. She’d never been surer of him. Grabbing her stomach, she felt sick. Had she been a fool? He’d let her down before, but never, never like this.
“Have you checked the bars?” Audrey snorted.
This was unfair, but Lara knew Audrey was protecting her. At some point, if Todd really failed to show, her mother would need to begin a detailed accounting of his faults.
But he will show up. Todd would not leave me here like this.
Fred lowered his head. “Yes,” he croaked. “We’ve checked everywhere. We also asked Ben Archer to inquire about any accidents, but there haven’t been any. He even called the hospitals in Madison and Orange Counties. Nothing.”
Ben Archer? If Fred felt desperate enough to involve the chief of police, then Lara understood that things were more serious than he was letting on. Fred looked smaller, shaken, remorseful.
“He’s probably just late.” Lara smiled, hopeful. That was it, Todd was just late. But late from where? Todd had many faults, but tardiness was never one of them. In fact, she thought back to their years together. She couldn’t recall ever having waited on him.
Until now.
“That’s probably it.” Fred’s smile was wooden, and the flap of hair doing its best to hide his bald patch was drooping down over his forehead now glistening with sweat. He held up his finger. “Let me check downstairs one more time.” He walked to the top of the steps and turned like a dutiful waiter. “I just thought you should know.”
Oh no. Lara had seen this look before. Fred was taking on the rehearsed demeanor he displayed when managing funerals and organizing grief—other people’s grief. It was his business—reducing the messiness of loss into a tidy, well-executed ritual. Now it was her turn. With his carefully chosen words, he’d begun preparing her for the worst.
“What time is it?” asked Audrey.
“Four forty,” said Fred without gazing at a timepiece.
“If he isn’t here yet, I need you to tell everyone the wedding has been postponed,” Audrey commanded. “Postponed,” she emphasized. “Until we can figure this out.”
Lara’s father, Jason Barnes, had been standing in the doorway waiting for his cue to walk Lara down the aisle. Now he was taking in the conversation and tugging free of his bow tie, finally ripping it off. A musician, Jason didn’t wear ties or tuxedos. “Let’s just wait a little longer for him. He’ll show.” He met Lara’s eyes and smiled.
That was Jason, the eternal optimist, Candide with a Fender.
As was the norm, Audrey ignored her ex-husband with an eye roll, turning her attention back to Todd’s stepfather. “You have ten minutes, Fred. That’s all. I will not have my daughter waiting up here for him any longer than that.”
Lara walked over to her mother. Audrey had intuitions about things; her abilities weren’t limited to enchanting gowns and turning on lights. Her mother could sense the hearts of people—what
