Chapter 15 Ivy
By the time the cornbread hits the table, Magnolia's sent back her salad twice, Jefferson's apologized to Virginia four times, and Caleb still hasn't looked at me once.
I'm seriously regretting not listening to Amelia's warning about rich people's weddings being "next-level chaos wrapped in designer labels.
" I tug at the hem of my vintage sundress, feeling woefully underdressed.
I'm so glad I'm good with names, because Sarah's whirlwind introductions over pre-lunch cocktails felt like a speed round of Guess Who?
Virginia, the ice queen maid of honor. Jefferson, the apologetic groomsman and Virginia's ex.
Carter, the smooth-talking finance guy. Dean, and his wife, Dixie.
Mary, with her snide commentary. And Delilah, who keeps asking if I can do a tarot reading.
Not to mention Wyatt, who's been openly flirting with Sarah, while schmoozing up to her parents like he's auditioning for the role of son-in-law.
Next to me, Caleb shifts in his chair, radiating tension usually reserved for dental procedures. I want to ask what's wrong, but he's been doing his best statue impression since we sat down.
"I just think," Jefferson says from across the table, his sculpted muscles straining against the polo shirt, "if we could talk about what happened—"
"Pass the butter?" Virginia cuts him off, addressing her request to Dixie.
I glance at Caleb again, waiting for his trademark smirk at the unfolding chaos. Nothing.
"It's not my fault the yoga instructor was interested in me," Jefferson mutters.
The room goes dead silent. You could hear a pin drop if not for the soft clink of Sarah's wine glass, her engagement ring flashing like a warning flare as she winces behind the rim.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Virginia cuts in, voice flat, "are you talking about the yoga instructor I found in our bed? The one who was helping you achieve your perfect downward dog while I was at my two-week juice cleanse retreat?"
"She said my alignment was off!"
"Oh, something was definitely off. Including your zipper, mid–warrior pose."
Jefferson looks like he might dissolve into his chair, tan skin flushed with embarrassment. "I tried to stop her—"
"Right. Must have been so traumatic for you. Tell me, did she give you a discount for all that extra stretching?"
I suddenly become deeply invested in the geography of my mashed potatoes. Beside me, Caleb makes a sound that might be a laugh, but quickly turns it into a cough when Virginia shoots him a glare, her perfectly arched eyebrows forming twin crescents of judgment.
"Oh my stars," Delilah whispers next to me, her curls bounce as she practically vibrates with glee. "This is better than my mama's church group drama."
I take a long sip of water, mentally drafting an SOS text to Vinnie.
Kristal swoops back in, armed with a fresh bottle of wine. "Who needs a top-up? Virginia, honey, you look parched. Jefferson, maybe stick to water? We want clear heads for tomorrow's activities!"
"Matt, tell me more about that merger you're handling at Richardson & Wilson," Preston's voice booms across the table.
He launches into corporate jargon, but I'm watching Sarah, and the way her fingers twist the napkin into elaborate patterns.
"You know," Preston says, "we could use that in Charleston. Bell Industries is expanding our East Coast operations."
I catch Sarah's slight tension at her father's words.
This clearly isn't the first time he's tried to lure them back to West Virginia.
Across the table, Wyatt nods along eagerly, his styled hair barely moving.
"Sarah always said she'd move back home after law school," he adds with a familiarity that makes Matt's knuckles go white against his fork.
"And with her legal expertise," Preston adds proudly, "she could head up our corporate division. Even take over the firm one day."
"Dad . . ." Sarah groans.
"Some things are just meant to be," Wyatt says, leaning toward her with a smile. "Like you coming home where you belong, Sarah-bear."
"Ivy." Sarah's voice pulls my attention. The table conversation hangs awkwardly as she completely ignores Wyatt's comment, turning her back to him with the ease of someone who's been dodging the same bullet for years. "I've been meaning to ask you something."
"Hmm?" I attempt to swallow a bite of cornbread that's turned to sawdust in my mouth.
"I know it's last minute, but would you want to be one of my bridesmaids?"
The question catches me off guard. "What?"
"Oh, how lovely!" Dottie's enthusiasm crashes against Magnolia's crafted wince.
"It's just," Sarah continues, her eyes finding mine with that same kindness she's always shown me, "you're already here, and you're so important to Caleb, which makes you important to us, and," she pauses, noticing my expression, "no pressure, of course!
Matt thought it would be good for Caleb, and I did ask him to talk to his brother about it first . . ."
Matt mutters something I don't catch, and Sarah's face turns mortified. "You forgot to ask him?"
"I'm so sorry," he says, running a hand through his hair. "Work has been crazy, and I completely—"
"Oh, I feel so silly now." Sarah's cheeks flush pink. "Please, don't feel obligated. I just thought—"
"Well, we already have the dress," Magnolia cuts in with a sigh. "Though I suppose we could just have one less bridesmaid."
"She doesn't have to agree just because of Matt's mistake," Caleb says firmly.
I straighten my spine, refusing to let his strange mood, or Magnolia's thinly veiled jab, taint this moment. "No, I'd love to. Really, Sarah, I'm honored."
"Well, this works great," Carter chimes in with a smile. "Since Virginia and Caleb are paired up as maid of honor and best man, looks like you and I will be walking down the aisle together, Ivy."
Caleb's fork scrapes against china. "I can swap with you."
"Don't worry about it." Carter's smile turns oily, a dimple appearing in his right cheek as he adjusts his salmon-colored tie. "I'll take good care of her during rehearsals."
"Like hell you will," Caleb mutters.
"What was that?" Greg's voice snaps.
Caleb stabs at his plate. "Nothing."
"Perfect!" Sarah tries to redirect. "The bridesmaid dress is this gorgeous azure that'll look amazing with—"
"Her . . . hair." Magnolia's smile could sugar-coat poison as she eyes my blue waves like they're personally offensive, then glances at Dottie as if to say see what your son brings home?
"The blue is pretty," Caleb says quietly, surprising everyone. "I mean, it's nice. With her eyes and stuff."
The table goes silent, and warmth creeps up my face as Caleb downs half his water glass in one gulp.
"Well," Magnolia recovers first, her green eyes calculating beneath her perfectly styled blond waves. "How . . . sweet. Though the photographer I chose—"
"The photographer we chose," Sarah corrects gently, but Magnolia presses on regardless.
"Your hair is fun," Delilah adds, twirling her own red curls, her freckled shoulders visible in her off-shoulder sundress. "Very mystical. Like those girls who read tarot at the mall. Do you also do readings? Though Mama always says that's not exactly a sustainable lifestyle choice."
"She owns a bookstore," Caleb mutters.
"A metaphysical bookstore," I correct.
"How . . . innovative." Magnolia takes a delicate sip of wine. "Preston, honey, didn't you say something about Barnes & Noble's quarterly reports? Such a shame about independent bookstores these days."
"Actually," Sarah cuts in, "Ivy's store is doing amazingly well. Matt and I visited last year, remember?"
My cheeks heat. "It's—"
"Remarkable," Preston says, actually looking interested. "In this economy? With print books? What's your secret?"
Crystal grids and intention setting. "Community engagement and careful inventory management."
"Spoken like a true entrepreneur!" Preston booms, making Greg nod in agreement. "Matt, you should take notes. That position in Charleston—"
"Dad," Sarah interjects softly, her hand finding Matt's under the table. "We love Boston."
"Maybe after the wedding," Magnolia smoothly cuts in. "Speaking of which, honey, I've been thinking about the table arrangements. The florist I chose—"
"The one we chose," Sarah murmurs.
"—suggested white peonies would be much more suitable than those wildflowers you mentioned. So I went ahead and made the change. And the band's repertoire needed some adjustments. I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of . . ."
Virginia catches my eye across the table. "Ivy, you and Caleb aren't . . ." She gestures between us with a smile that sets my teeth on edge.
"Just friends," we say in unison.
"Perfect." Virginia's smirk turns playful as she shifts her attention to Caleb. "I heard you're still breaking hearts all over Hallow's End?"
Jefferson's grip on his utensils turns brutal.
"Something like that," Caleb shrugs, but his hand finds mine under the table, squeezing once. The gesture catches me off guard.
"Well then," Virginia leans forward, all calculated grace, "save me a drink tonight?"
I've never disliked anyone, but something about Virginia makes me want to dump my water glass over her head.
"Maybe," Caleb says vaguely, his thumb brushing across my knuckles before letting go.
"Don't be coy," Virginia purrs. "Come find me later tonight."
Jefferson's water glass joins his fork in what's becoming a growing collection of abused tableware.
"Now, about tomorrow's schedule," Kristal twirls into view, her tiny frame vibrating with the energy of a hummingbird on espresso. "Bridal party yoga starts at seven-thirty a.m. sharp—"
"While the boys have their own plans," Virginia interjects. "Though hopefully nothing like Jefferson's birthday party. I heard that strip club incident was quite educational."
Matt clears his throat. "We have a structured day planned."
"Including golf at the country club," Preston adds. "Best course in three counties."
"I've already volunteered to help with the arrangements," Wyatt announces, somehow making it sound like he's doing everyone a favor. "Just like old times, right Preston? Remember when Sarah-bear and I used to caddy for you?"
"Great," Matt mutters.
Greg looks directly at Caleb. "This week's your chance to talk to your brother about those entry positions in Boston. Matt knows people—"
"Dad—" Caleb starts, but Greg barrels on.
"Even if you're not as quick with the business side as Matt, getting your foot in the door could help you figure things out." He turns to Preston. "Didn't you say something about your firm having a training program?"
Caleb's shoulders go rigid beside me, his breathing shifting with it.
"Greg," Dottie warns.
"What? I'm trying to help." Greg's voice carries the frustration of a man who thinks he's being reasonable. "Matt found his way early, sure, but even if Caleb's not quite there yet . . . well, structure helps. Responsibility. A real paycheck."
"Some take longer to settle," Preston adds, with what he probably thinks is encouragement. "Though Bell Industries is always looking for fresh perspectives. When you're ready to get serious, of course."
Caleb stands so abruptly his chair scrapes against the hardwood. "Excuse me."
Matt half-rises to follow, but Greg's quiet "let him be" keeps him in place.
"After yoga," Kristal swoops in, "we have dress fittings, followed by lunch at the Rose Garden."
"Just a little something I arranged," Magnolia says. "Dottie, you'll join us, of course?"
"Wouldn't miss it." Dottie's smile is perfect, practiced, and doesn't reach her eyes.
"And tonight," Kristal continues, "movie night in the Living Room. Very casual, very cozy."
I should be excited about the plan. About being included in the bridal party. About any of this. Instead, my head is full of the look on Caleb's face before he left.