Chapter 4
MIA
Mia hurried toward the parking lot, trying to keep her pace relaxed and not draw any more attention to herself. A few people gave her confused or friendly looks, but she simply smiled at them and hurried on. The sooner she was in the car and on the way back to San Jose, the better.
“Can I offer you a canapé?”
Mia froze in her tracks and turned slowly toward the voice, her stomach grumbling loudly.
She hadn’t had a chance to eat anything on the drive; she’d been in too much of a rush to stop.
Usually, she packed an emergency supply of chocolate, but she’d forgotten it on this trip.
And breakfast had been a single granola bar a long time ago.
Surely, since she was already here, it couldn’t hurt to have a quick bite of food before she left.
“Yes, thank you so much.” Smiling at the waiter, Mia took a cracker laden with salmon and cucumber from the tray and popped it into her mouth.
No matter how awkward the wedding was, she had to admit that it was almost worth it for the food.
Another waiter approached, this one with a tray of tiny chocolate cakes, and Mia couldn’t resist taking one of those, too.
She’d have a small snack to head off the grumbling in her stomach, and then she’d leave.
Then a waiter came with a tray of drinks.
Knowing she was about to drive, Mia turned down the champagne but ended up with a flute of sparkling apple cider.
Soon, she found herself strolling through the party, enjoying small bites of food.
She managed to avoid conversation beyond a few quick pleasantries, and her confidence grew.
Maybe this wasn’t such a disaster after all.
Maybe she didn’t stick out as much as she’d thought.
She’d have one more mini bruschetta before heading back to the car and making the four-hour drive back home.
“Hello there.”
Mia froze with a mini bruschetta halfway to her mouth.
A woman of indeterminate age, dressed in a long, silver gown, with blond hair that looked a little too good to be natural, was approaching.
She’d clearly had some cosmetic surgery at more than one point in her life, making her cheeks unnaturally frozen and her teeth a little too shiny.
She looked friendly enough, probably, but Mia still felt a pit of worry build in her stomach.
Why had this woman chosen to talk to her?
“Hi.” Mia smiled, though her stomach ached with nerves.
“How are you enjoying the festivities?”
“Oh, it’s absolutely lovely,” Mia gushed, smiling brightly as she swallowed the last of her bite. “And the couple looks so happy.”
“Indeed.” The woman’s brow furrowed. “Are you one of Tyler’s friends from the firm?”
“No, I’m actually a high school teacher.”
“Oh. How… nice. And you enjoy that?” She was sounding more and more snide, and Mia edged away slowly.
She needed to find an out from this conversation, and quickly.
The longer she talked to anyone, especially this woman who seemed curious about who she was, the more likely she’d be caught as a wedding crasher.
“I do. It’s very rewarding to shape young minds.”
“Where do you teach?”
“A public high school in San Jose. Um, I’m a math teacher.”
“Is that so?” The woman’s brow furrowed more, though her forehead remained unnervingly smooth. “You don’t seem to be in the same circles as the bride and groom.”
“Well, you know.” Mia was blushing furiously by now.
“I’m not sure that I do.” Her gaze fell to the bruschetta in Mia’s hand. She looked downright judgmental now. “Enjoying the food, are we?”
“It’s really great.” Mia edged away again. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but I see someone—” She gestured toward the crowd, hoping to pull the same trick that had worked on Aunt Evie. This time, if she got away, she wouldn’t linger for more food. She’d just make a break for her car.
“Maybe you should tell me how you actually know the bride and groom,” the woman suggested. Her tone grew sharper, and Mia winced.
“Oh, you know, from here and there,” Mia said. “And how about you?”
Immediately, she realized she’d made a mistake, because the woman’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m Genevieve’s mother,” she said. “The bride’s mother. Mrs. Elizabeth Saint Claire.”
“Right, of course!” Mia was already on the edge of panicking.
She was certain this woman was about to call the police, or at least whatever security this venue had, to report the stolen canapés.
Was crashing a wedding actually a crime?
She didn’t think so, but the woman’s stare made her less certain.
“How about you tell me your name?” Elizabeth Saint Claire suggested. “I can look you up on the guest list and make sure everything is as it should be.”
Mia’s blood froze. She felt like one of her high school students who had forgotten their homework or arrived for a big test without studying.
Her heart was racing too quickly, and her stomach flip-flopped.
She was tempted to throw the bruschetta as a distraction and make a run for it, but that would mean making an even bigger fool of herself.
Mia could already imagine dashing across the cobblestones in heels and her dress, tripping, and falling.
It wouldn’t be the first time. She could be clumsy, especially when she was nervous.
“Um…” Mia stalled.
“Do you not know your own name?” Elizabeth Saint Claire asked. Mia winced again. Surely, this woman would have to leave to check the guest list, and Mia could slip away during that time.
“My name is Mia. Mia Newton.”
“Hmm.” Elizabeth Saint Claire took out her phone, tapping it with her oversized nails, and Mia realized her mistake. Of course, she had a digitized version of the guest list.
“Darling, what’s going on?” A gentleman in a suit and tie wandered over. Elizabeth Saint Claire waved him down.
“Darling, I was just having a conversation with this woman, Mia Newton, and she can’t seem to explain exactly how she knows our daughter and son-in-law,” she explained.
Oh, no. Mia’s heart sank further. She was drawing more and more attention, making it harder to get out of this situation without admitting that she wasn’t supposed to be there at all.
“Is that so?” The man turned to her. “I’m Jonathon Saint Claire, the father of the bride, and I’m hoping to make sure everything goes smoothly today.”
“I…” Mia was blushing so hard she was sure she looked like a traffic light.
A few other groups of people were staring at her with interest. Apparently, this little altercation was turning into prime wedding entertainment.
Mia could imagine the headline in the family newsletter, or however rich people communicated: Public School Teacher Crashes Wedding, Steals Canapés.
“You’re not on the list,” Elizabeth Saint Claire said abruptly. “I’ve looked everywhere, and there’s not a single Mia or a Newton anywhere here. It’s time to explain what you’re doing here.”
Okay. She would have to do what she told her students to do when they made a mistake: admit it, own up to it, and apologize.
Granted, her students usually used this strategy after forgetting their homework, which seemed like a comparatively minor offense, but it would work here, too.
It had to. Gathering her strength, Mia spoke.
“The reason I’m not on the guest list…” she began, trying to keep her voice steady. “Well, and I first would like to apologize for any confusion; it really wasn’t my intention to inconvenience anyone. Um. The reason I’m not on the guest list is actually because—”
“Let me guess.” Jonathon Saint Claire crossed his arms and gave her an intense stare. “You’re not on the list because you were never invited. Am I correct? You crashed this wedding.”
“Well, you see, there may have been a bit of a mix-up.” Mia braced herself. She would take her lumps and explain what had happened. Even these people could find it in their hearts to forgive her. Couldn’t they?