Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
It’s me who spots her first.
Tucker and I are casually walking down Main Street on the way to lunch when I see her approaching. At first I don’t recognize her, her face half-covered by a pair of large black sunglasses. It’s the crisp tweed suit that gives her away, even though it’s hanging off her thin frame like it belongs to someone else. She pulls down her glasses to peek into a window display, and when I see the unmistakable blue eyes, I know it’s her.
Amanda Spencer, Charlotte’s mother.
Tucker’s grip tightens around my hand. I know he sees her too.
She looks different, to say the least. Her face is gaunt, the space under her eyes dark. And she’s disturbingly thin. I can practically count the bones on her hand as she grips her designer bag. Just as she is about to pass us, I hesitate. And before I can stop myself, I call out, “Mrs. Spencer?”
She stops, turning to face us with a start. For a moment, confusion flickers across her face, and then recognition dawns. “Miss Montgomery,” she says, her voice a raspy whisper. “And…Tucker.”
Tucker stiffens beside me, pulling me closer. He nods curtly, his eyes fixed on a point just over Amanda’s shoulder. “Mrs. Spencer,” he mutters, barely audible.
It’s been over a year since I’ve seen her, not since the fateful day we met at my shop to discuss the wedding cake. The memory of the day slams into me, making all the ghosts that have been following me around the last few months suddenly more real. Clearly Charlotte leaving town has broken the woman in front of me. Her eyes look empty and her figure gaunt.
An uncomfortable silence descends, thick and heavy. What is likely a few seconds of silence crawls past like an hour. I open my mouth at least twice before speaking, all the unanswered questions at the tip of my tongue… What happened to Charlotte? Why did she leave Tucker at the altar? Where is she now?
I scramble to find something else to say, as this clearly isn’t the time or place to launch into a conversation about the past. Especially given the jilted groom is currently holding my hand.
“How…how have you been?” I ask, immediately regretting the banality of the question.
Amanda’s lips curve into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, you know,” she says, waving a bony hand dismissively. “Keeping busy. And you two? I hear congratulations are in order.”
The way her eyes narrow when she says those last words makes my stomach knot up. Heat rises up my cheeks. “Yes, thank you.”
Tucker is deathly silent next to me. I can barely hear him breathing. I look at him out of the corner of my eyes, willing him to say something, anything, to break the awkward silence, but he continues to stand perfectly still. Amanda seems to be waiting for him to say something as well, so the three of us just end up standing there in unbearable silence.
Finally, Amanda clears her throat. “Well, I won’t keep you,” she says, already turning away. “Congratulations, again.”
And just like that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd of tourists and locals that throng the sidewalk. I immediately turn to Tucker, my heart racing. He’s still gripping my hand, but his eyes are fixed in the distance, where Amanda just left. I search his face for any clue to his thoughts, but his face is blank.
“Tucker? Are you alright?”
He furrows his brow and then turns to face me. He blinks twice, as if his eyes are adjusting to the light, and then shrugs. “I’m fine. Come on, let’s go to lunch,” he says, tugging gently on my hand.
We walk in silence for another half-block before we reach the restaurant. By the time we make it inside, Tucker is back to himself, making small talk with the hostess.
I, on the other hand, am a ball of nerves. I can’t shake the image of Amanda’s haunted eyes or her frail figure. She was not the confident, domineering woman whom I met a year ago in my shop.
What happened to her?
We settle into our seats, and the waiter greets our table, leaving us with a menu. Once the water glasses have been filled, I tip my menu down and look at Tucker.
“Is that the first time you’ve seen her since…?”
He looks back at me, tipping his head to the side. “Who?”
“Amanda Spencer,” I say, a bit of irritation creeping into my voice.
He glares back down at his menu. “Drop it, Reese.”
I twist my menu in my hands, my cheeks burning. He’s shutting me out, again. And what about the message I received earlier? I was hoping to share that with him. But now?
I open my mouth to speak, but the waiter shows up as if on cue to take our order. After she leaves, Tucker immediately turns the conversation to the wedding, leaving me no room to talk about everything else that’s been happening. I fiddle with the napkin in my lap. How can he be so dismissive? Don’t I deserve answers about what happened?
I listen to him chatter on about the wedding, my mind completely somewhere else. If the encounter with Amanda bothered him, he’s very good at hiding it.
Eventually I soften, allowing myself to get swept up in his enthusiasm. His excitement for the wedding is genuine. I tell myself that nothing good is going to come from dwelling on the past. I let go of my indignation over his dismissal of the topic. For now. Maybe I’ll bring up the cryptic text message to him later tonight.
When the check comes, I feel a sense of relief. I need a moment to myself to try and piece everything together in my head. As he kisses me on the sidewalk and we go our separate ways, a sense of dread coils in my stomach. A gulf is widening between us—I can feel it.
I just hope it’s pre-wedding jitters and not something else.