Chapter 2
TWO
FRIDAY
Welcome, wedding party!
Please enjoy our Friday evening schedule before settling into your rooms for the night.
Cocktail reception in the Carriage House at 8 p.m.
Respective bachelor and bachelorette festivities from 9 p.m. to midnight
(or until we party ourselves out!)
Lacy stood in front of the mirror in the Sweet Briar suite at the Rose Palace, wearing a Jenny Yoo dress with large, dark blue peonies splayed across it.
She’d thrown a knee-length white satin jacket on the back of her chair, and though it appeared to be a simple outfit, I was certain it had cost more than I would make in a month as a vet tech.
Lacy clutched her stomach and hurried to the bathroom, calling as she went, “Oh God, I feel like I might be sick.”
Savilla and I stood in the room, helpless to intervene.
“Is she okay?” Savilla whispered. “I hope it’s not the flu. That’s been running rampaviously through the staff.”
Rampaviously? I guessed “rampage” and “pervasive”, with a “ly” thrown in for fun.
Savilla and I listened, relieved when we didn’t hear any awful sounds coming from the bathroom. A moment later Lacy emerged, pale but put together.
I went to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “You okay?”
“Maybe.” Lacy’s words and her expression were both uncertain. “I didn’t think wedding nerves would hit me like this.” Her eyes widened. “Do you think Anton’s feeling this way? Do you think he might change his mind?”
“Never.” I led her to the chair in front of the vanity and sat her down so we could both see her reflection.
“Look at you. Radiant inside and out.” Because of the late December season, the sun had already set and she was relying on the LED lights of the armoire to prep for the night ahead, the evening of her bachelorette soirée and Anton’s bachelor party.
“More like wrung out.” Lacy laughed before picking up a mascara wand and reapplying it to her already thick lashes.
“All you need is a bit of bronzer and you’re as good as new,” Savilla said, picking up a brush and moving in to apply it with expert precision.
We were in a suite in the old wing of the house, but with a substantial life insurance policy that had come through a week after her father’s will reading, Savilla had already started renovating the space for a more modern look.
One of her—our—father’s pieces, an abstract portrait of Miss 1984 in hues of purple and gold, hung in this very room.
On the opposite wall was a piece on loan from the Aubergine Art Collective it had also become a haunt for American artists, trying to pin down their muse long enough to create a masterpiece.
The Finches had finally supported these artistic endeavors, all in an attempt to bring culture to our small town.
I moved toward the Impressionist-style painting Savilla had selected for this room.
I didn’t know much about art, but something about the colors—the grays and blues and purples against so many shades of white—had a calming effect on me.
The subject of the painting—my mountains—also brought up a surge of affection in me.
“It’s lovely,” I found myself saying as I stood in front of the painting. Suddenly, I realized that the Finch side of my family tree, dysfunctional as it might’ve been, had funded beauty like this. Surely that was something noble.
“Good,” Savilla said, though she was more interested in applying finishing touches to Lacy’s brow.
“Because I had two similar pieces hung in this room and the Salon, where the bridal party will get dressed on Sunday before the ceremony, and I borrowed a few more modernist ones for the Billiards Room and bachelor quarters.” Savilla lifted a shoulder.
“If we like them, the Collective told us we could borrow many more. I feel works like these add a bit of, I don’t know… elegastication.”
I closed one eye, trying to parse out this one. Elegance and sophistication perhaps? Either way, I appreciated her attention to detail.
Savilla spun Lacy to see her reflection, and my friend smiled gratefully at my sister’s handiwork.
“Well, then,” Savilla said, “I’d best get down to the Winter Garden and make sure they’ve set up enough heaters to keep us toasty as we admire the stars.”
“Don’t go to too much trouble,” Lacy said. “We’re just meeting Anton’s parents.”
“But, I thought…” Savilla pursed her lips as if she was about to disagree but then seemed to think better of arguing the matter. “No matter. We want everyone to be comfortable.”
With that vague comment, Savilla practically skipped out of the room, reminding me once again how in her element she was as mistress of The Rose.
Three of Lacy’s suitcases—and one of mine—lined the wall of our suite, and several dress bags hung in the closet. On the vanity was a row of makeup and hair products, as well as the familiar sight of Lacy’s signature scent, Jasmine.
“I want you—and only you—staying with me,” Lacy had said when she’d booked the suite. “I’m fine with a ton of people at the wedding and reception, but I want everything leading up to that day to be small and intimate.”
That made sense. Though Lacy had always been more of the party type, never meeting a stranger, she also liked to cocoon with those who knew her best before or after any big event.
It was Friday evening, and in less than forty-eight hours, my best friend would be a married woman.
The evening would be a night down memory lane, visiting all of our old Aubergine haunts with her bridal party in tow.
The bridesmaids included me, Savilla, and Jemma Jenkins.
Lacy had known Savilla forever, and recently with the disclosure of her as my half-sister, Lacy had generously welcomed her into the fold of our makeshift family unit.
As for Jemma, she’d grown on all of us since the pageant we’d competed in this past summer, and Lacy had been spending a lot of time with her as she booked her for events in between her off-off-Broadway shows.
Anton would be enjoying a more stationary celebration in the Billiards Room with the handful of guys he’d selected as his groomsmen. He still didn’t know people in Aubergine well, and the one friend he’d kept in touch with from home couldn’t make it on such short notice.
Lacy had suggested he ask three guys from town: Charlie, who would hopefully become a good friend going forward; Will Hurt, who was recently unemployed and also a new dad needing to get out of the house; and Joe Larson, a former classmate and all-around pretty decent guy.
Now, I laugh, thinking that I could’ve actually kept the bridal party celebration small and intimate, but at that point, I hadn’t yet met Anton’s very extensive, very intrusive family from the great state of Texas.
My fantasy of a quiet-but-festive walk down memory lane was about to be turned upside down.
“How’s my makeup?” Lacy lifted her chin so I could take in the full view. “I got a new lipstick, but is this red too whore-ish?”
“You’re beautiful.” I placed both of my hands on her shoulders, turning Lacy away from the mirror. “Just the right amount of whore.”
I hadn’t seen her this nervous since the day she pitched the proposal for her event-planning business to the bank for a loan, but to be fair, she was about to meet Anton’s parents in person for the first time.
We were scheduled for a quick meet and greet in the Winter Garden before the evening got underway.
Apparently, they’d just flown in on a private jet from a ranch town in East Texas.
“They’re really conservative, you know? Like, donate to every Republican politician they can find,” Lacy said, holding her stomach again.
“Oh no,” I said, trying to lighten the mood with mock horror. “Don’t tell them about the time you got elected for fifth-grade class president by running on a ‘Girls-rule-and-boys-drool’ platform.”
“Ha-ha.” Lacy swung back around to face the full-length mirror and prodded gently at her hair, which was pulled into a bouquet of tight curls. “They’ve already asked why we’re getting married so fast.”
“And the answer is…?” I’d wondered that myself, but I also knew that Lacy was stubborn and she knew her own mind well enough to make her own decisions. I hadn’t even dared to bring up the question until now.
“It’s not because I’m pregnant,” she said, putting a hand to her stomach. “This is all nerves.”
“I figured.” I laughed. “Lest you forget, we share a period tracker. I’m alerted with a little chime every time your cycle starts over.” We’d downloaded the app together when we were thirteen, and we’d both kept up with it ever since, jokingly referring to ourselves as blood sisters.
“Anton’s the one,” Lacy said, suddenly serious as she stared back at me in the mirror. “So, I guess I thought… I don’t know, why wait?”
I tilted my head, taking that in. The accelerated timeline was impulsive, which was something that I loved about her. Lacy’s ability to seize the day, to trust her gut, to grab life by the balls—that was always something I’d tried, and mostly failed, to mimic.
“And you know I’ve always wanted a holiday wedding,” Lacy said, dabbing her scent on her wrist and neck. “I love the cold weather and the evergreens and the coziness. If we waited, it would be another entire year, and I’m almost thirty. Maybe I’m ready to settle down, to start a family.”
“A family? As in two-point-four kids and a picket fence?”