Chapter 22
Luke's speech had somehow made its way onto social media after one of the scholarship recipients posted a video. Grace had watched it four times.
Not because Luke sounded eloquent.
He stumbled over one sentence, forgot the name of a mentor he'd intended to thank, and knocked the microphone with his wedding ring hand halfway through.
She loved it because it sounded exactly like him.
Honest. A little awkward. Completely sincere.
Her phone buzzed.
Paige: You should be on cloud nine.
Grace smiled.
Why?
Because your fiancé just made every woman on Facebook cry.
Grace laughed.
"I'll tell him." Luke looked up from the couch.
"Tell me what?"
"Apparently you're ruining other men."
"I've been accused of worse."
She walked over and curled her legs beneath her on the sofa.
"I was proud of you."
He brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. "I meant every word."
"I know."
His phone buzzed. He glanced down. His expression remained neutral. "Brooklyn."
Grace nodded once. "Go ahead."
He opened the message.
Then frowned.
"What?"
He turned the screen toward her.
Brooklyn: Congratulations again. Your speech was wonderful. I wanted to apologize if I seemed distracted afterward. One of the committee volunteers collapsed after everyone left, and I ended up spending half the night at the emergency room. She's okay now.
Grace read it carefully. Nothing about the message bothered her.
In fact...
"It sounds like she's just letting you know why she disappeared."
Luke nodded. "I think so too."
He typed back.
I'm glad she's okay. Thanks for letting me know.
He hit send. That was it. No extended conversation. No follow-up questions. No open door. He slipped the phone back into his pocket.
Grace noticed something then. Months ago, Luke would have asked who the volunteer was. How she was doing. Whether Brooklyn had gotten any sleep.
He wasn't being cold now. He simply...
Didn't automatically become responsible.
Grace leaned over and kissed him.
"What was that for?"
"You've changed."
He smiled. "I hope in a good way."
"The best."
Tuesday afternoon, Grace left work early for her final meeting with the florist. This time, she smiled as she pulled into the parking lot. She pushed open the shop door.
"Grace!" Marlene looked up from trimming white roses.
"I've got everything ready."
They spent nearly an hour reviewing centerpieces, boutonnières, delivery times, and backup plans in case October weather turned ugly.
As Grace signed the final paperwork, Marlene looked up.
"I almost forgot." She reached beneath the counter. "This was dropped off for you."
She handed Grace a cream-colored envelope.
There was no stamp.
Only Grace's name. Inside was a handwritten note.
You're going to be a beautiful bride.
No signature. Just those seven words. Grace turned the card over. Nothing.
Marlene smiled. "Your fiancé?"
"I don't think so."
"A secret admirer?"
Grace laughed. "I certainly hope not."
She tucked the card into her purse. It was odd. But harmless.
That evening she showed it to Luke.
He examined the handwriting. “Doesn’t look like Brooklyn’s writing.”
"No idea who else it could be."
"It doesn't really bother me." Grace shrugged. "I just thought it was strange."
Luke handed it back.
"It could be anybody."
"I know."
She slipped it into the kitchen junk drawer. Neither of them mentioned it again.
Two days later, another envelope arrived. This one had been tucked beneath the windshield wiper of Grace's car while she was at work. Same cream stationery. Same handwriting.
You really did choose the right man.
Grace frowned. No signature. Again. She carried it inside.
Paige happened to be meeting her for dinner. "What is it?"
Grace handed her the note.
Paige read it twice.
"Okay."
"What?"
"Now I don't like it."
"It's still nice."
"No."
Paige shook her head.
"It isn't."
Grace looked surprised.
"Why?"
"Because anonymous notes are weird."
She pointed at the card.
"If someone wants to compliment you, they sign their name."
Grace hadn't thought about that.
"You're probably right."
"Has Luke seen this?"
"Not yet."
?t’s got to be Brooklyn, right? But the handwriting doesn’t look like hers. And all the other things she did, she called right after and took credit for them”
Paige looked thoughtful.
"I think you should tell him."
Luke was less dismissive than she'd expected.
He laid the two notes side by side on the dining room table. "They're definitely from the same person."
Grace nodded. "I don't know why someone wouldn't sign them."
Luke looked at the careful script. "They know where you work."
"They know my car."
"They know our wedding date."
Grace folded her arms. "You think I should be worried?"
He hesitated. "I don't know."
Neither of them noticed that the second note contained one small difference from the first.
The loops on the letter g were tighter.
The slant slightly more upright.
Someone trying very hard to disguise familiar handwriting.
Brooklyn sat at her kitchen table staring at a sheet of practice paper.
The first version hadn't looked right. Too much like her normal handwriting. She'd copied the sentence six times before she was satisfied. She hated that she'd done it.
Truly hated it.
The notes weren't threatening.
They weren't cruel.
They weren't even lies.
But they accomplished something important. They occupied space.
Grace would wonder.
Luke would notice.
Just enough uncertainty to make them think about someone else for a few minutes. Brooklyn crumpled the practice sheets and carried them to the sink. She struck a match and watched the edges curl black in the stainless steel basin.
"What are you doing?" she whispered to herself.
The answer came immediately.
Crossing a line.
She closed her eyes.
She could still stop.
She could throw away the remaining stationery.
She could apologize.
She could disappear from their lives after the wedding and rebuild her own.
Instead...
She opened the drawer beside the sink.
Inside sat a small velvet box.
Luke had given it to her on her twenty-first birthday.
A silver compass keychain.
The engraving read:
Wherever life takes us, you'll always find your way home.
He had meant friendship.
She knew that now.
But for years...
She had quietly treasured the possibility that he might someday mean something more.
Brooklyn closed the box.
Very carefully.
Then she reached for another blank card.
This one, she decided, wouldn't go to Grace.
It would go to Luke.
Not yet.
Soon.
Just enough to make him ask a question he'd never asked before.
Who knows us well enough to write these?
And once that question existed… Brooklyn intended to be standing nearby when he started looking for the answer.