“You have to be kidding me,” Josie said.
Trinity’s flinty gaze bore down on her. “You know I’m not.”
The heavy door to their suite opened and their mother, Shannon, swept in. She beamed at Josie. As she drew closer, studying Josie with obvious pride and awe, the photographer snapped more photos. “Look at you! Absolutely stunning.” One of her fists opened to reveal a crumpled tissue which she pressed to her eyes.
“Mom,” Trinity complained. “You’re going to ruin your make-up.”
“I can’t help it,” Shannon said. “Besides, if you think I’m bad, wait till you see your father. He’s a mess.” She placed her other hand on Josie’s shoulder. “For thirty years, we thought this day was out of reach. Gone from us forever.”
Josie patted her hand. “I know.”
“Dammit,” Trinity said. “I said no crying! No crying at this wedding.”
Josie laughed and glanced at Lisette, who had a twinkle in her blue eyes. Josie had been born to Shannon and Christian Payne. When she and her sister were only three weeks old, a former housecleaner, Lila Jensen, set the Paynes’ home on fire with the babies inside. Their nanny managed to rescue Trinity, but Lila stole away with Josie and passed her off as her own child for years. Both local authorities and the Paynes believed that Josie had perished in the fire. But Josie had been taken two hours away to Denton, where her vile abductor told Lisette’s son, Eli Matson, that Josie was his daughter. He had no reason to disbelieve Lila and had raised Josie as his own until his death when Josie was only six years old. Josie had lived in terror, enduring one trauma after another at the hands of Lila, until Lisette got custody of her at age fourteen. From then until three years ago, when the truth finally came out and Josie was reunited with the Paynes, Josie and Lisette had only had each other.
Josie had married her high school sweetheart, Ray Quinn, just after college, but that wedding had been small with a limited number of guests, and the only family members in attendance had been Lisette and Ray’s mother. No one had walked Josie down the aisle to Ray, and that had suited her just fine at the time. Her life to that point had hardly been normal, and she had endured all of her hardships largely on her own. It had made sense to her that she alone should walk down the aisle to her groom. Now, her biological father was in her life. They’d formed a bond over the years, and she was thrilled to have him there to walk her down the aisle to Noah Fraley.
“How are things on the groom’s side of the hall?” Misty asked before any of them could dissolve into happy tears.
Shannon waved the tissue in the air. “Oh, you know, it’s a mad house over there. Only Noah is completely ready, and Harris is chasing the dog around the suite.”
“Dammit,” Misty said, pushing the make-up artist away. “I’ll go over there and tell him to settle down.”
“I’ll go with you,” said the photographer, following Misty out of the bridal suite.
Harris was Misty’s four-year-old son. After Josie and Ray broke up, Ray had fallen hard for Misty, but he had died before their son was born. Oddly enough, Josie and Misty had become very good friends in the wake of Ray’s death. Harris, together with Josie and Noah’s Boston Terrier, Trout, was supposed to be on ring-bearer duty.
“I don’t know why you two insisted on having the dog in the ceremony,” Trinity said, not for the first time.
Shannon said, “Trinity, really. It’s Josie’s wedding. She can do whatever she wants—and she should.”
Trinity folded her arms across her chest. “Well, as her unofficial wedding planner, I objected strenuously to having the dog in the ceremony.”
Josie laughed. “Unofficial? Really? I can count on one hand the number of decisions I got to make about this wedding.” She turned to Shannon and Lisette. “She even booked the band!”
Trinity said, “It’s the Walton-Marquette Project, out of Chester County. You remember them, right, Mom?”
Shannon nodded. “We saw them at the Winter MusicFest. They’re fabulous. Everyone will love them, Josie.”
Josie waved a hand. “I know they will. Honestly, I’m grateful for all your help, Trin. But having Trout in our wedding is non-negotiable. It will be adorable, and the owners, Celeste and Adam, were fine with us doing it and having Trout here all weekend.”
Lisette said, “I can’t imagine a better wedding venue, Josie. This place is amazing.”
Josie stood and walked over to the large windows that overlooked the northeast edge of Harper’s Peak’s grounds. They were empty save for two men striding across the expansive lawn below. One wore a maroon polo shirt and pressed khakis, the uniform of resort staff. The other man wore a light-colored suit, but Josie recognized him as Tom Booth, the resort’s managing director. When Josie first met him, she thought he was just Celeste Harper’s assistant since he was usually found at her side with an iPad in his hands, tapping away at the screen while she barked instructions. As he hurried across the lawn, she saw the iPad tucked beneath one of his arms.
The Harper’s Peak property had originally been a homestead settled by the Harper family in the early 1800s. It encompassed hundreds of acres of land spanning two mountaintops. Initially, there was an old stone house which now served as the personal residence for the resort’s present-day owners, Celeste Harper and her husband, Adam Long. There was also a tiny white one-room church that sat on one of the mountain peaks. The original Harper settlers had used it as a
