Chapter Thirteen Natalie
“You okay, Bumpy?”
Natalie wheeled around, phone still pressed against her ear, to see Jonathan staring at her.
She froze, terrified that he’d somehow overheard her conversation.
That he’d heard Marigold say, “I was married before and I’m technically still married.
” It’s not that Jonathan was some kind of traditionalist who’d object to dating a divorced woman; it was the secrecy, the deception.
He wouldn’t have cared if she’d told him up front.
But he’d very much care that she’d hidden an entire first marriage from him, let alone secretly flown to another country to finalize the paperwork.
The day before their wedding.
And honestly, Natalie wouldn’t blame him. She felt stung by the betrayal—by the fact that her best friend hadn’t ever thought to share this information with her. But keeping it from Jonathan was a whole other level of subterfuge.
She scanned Jonathan’s face for any sign of shock or anger but found nothing—just curiosity and mild concern at her evident distress.
There was no way he’d heard Marigold’s side of the call.
Natalie had struggled to hear Marigold over the sound of the rain beating down on the windows of the Sandpiper Island Yacht Club, where the wedding party was gathering for the rehearsal.
The actual ceremony would take place on the bluff outside, but due to the storm, the rehearsal was being held in the main lounge, a wood-paneled room that looked more like a library with its framed vintage maps, clusters of upholstered armchairs, and bookcases full of antique almanacs and sailing manuals.
Natalie loved the black-and-white photos of sailing teams from years past, especially the ones from the ’20s and ’30s with the smiling young men in striped shirts who looked like F. Scott Fitzgerald characters.
“That was Marigold,” Natalie began, well aware that every good lie began with a kernel of truth. “Her flight was delayed because of the storm. She might not make it back until tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah, I know. She just called me.” Jonathan shook his head. “Poor Marigold. She sounded like she was freaking out. She said she was going to call her parents, but I’d better go find them, just in case. Will you update Tess?”
“Sure, no problem.” Natalie didn’t relish being the one to tell the high-strung wedding planner that the bride wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow, but this unpleasant task seemed to fall squarely in maid of honor territory.
Jonathan left to track down Marigold’s parents while Natalie returned to the lounge, where the other bridesmaids were waiting.
She wasn’t in any particular rush to find Tess, whom she’d been avoiding ever since Natalie had received her “Countdown to the Big Day!” email, which had been rife with “tips” that had ranged from offensive (“Leading up to the wedding, you may want to cut down on high-sodium foods that cause bloating. A juice fast is a great way to keep your energy levels up and ensure your bridesmaid dress fits perfectly”) to the utterly deranged.
(“Schedule a root touch-up no more than ten days before the wedding, to keep any grays from making a surprise appearance. Your appearance on the big day is a reflection of your love and respect for the happy couple.”) Natalie had assumed that the bridesmaids had all received the same email, but when she’d texted Hannah to complain, she’d been mortified to discover that Hannah’s email hadn’t said anything about juice fasts.
Hannah was on the phone with her mother, growing increasingly agitated as she explained that Westleigh wasn’t allowed to eat anything that’d been prepared with black plastic cookware.
“Then you’ll have to throw it out and start over!
” Hannah hissed. Liesl and Bri had cornered the recently arrived Richie, who was even more striking in person, with startingly wide-set eyes that gave her an otherworldly, almost alien look.
As Bri peppered her with questions about her skin-care routine, Richie shot Natalie a desperate please rescue me look, but Natalie knew that small talk with a famous actress was beyond her capabilities, so instead she wandered toward one of the tall windows that faced the ocean.
The yacht club was on the east side of the island, where, in contrast to the relative serenity of the bay that cradled the west side, enormous waves crashed against the jagged, rocky coastline.
It was still technically dusk, but the thick storm clouds blocked the remaining light, and during the uncomfortable golf cart ride, it’d been difficult to see anything apart from the shadowy silhouettes of the few trees hardy enough to withstand the winds that ravaged the side of Sandpiper Island exposed to the North Atlantic.
“Natalie!” She turned to see Tess striding toward her, her blond bob as sleek as always, despite the weather. “Where’s Marigold? We need to get started or we’ll be late for dinner.”
Before Natalie could respond, Lulu hurried up to them looking drawn but animated in a dark blue, glittery tunic with a matching, flapper-style turban.
“I assume you heard that Marigold is stuck in New York! I can’t believe she flew down there for her birth certificate when we could’ve had someone pick it up for her. ”
“I’m sorry, what?” Tess asked, looking from Lulu to Natalie. From the couch, the bridesmaids looked up with interest.
Ignoring Tess, Natalie turned to Lulu. “Yeah, I think because of the safe?” she said, guilt twisting her stomach.
It was one thing to lie on Marigold’s behalf to Jonathan; it was another to lie to Lulu.
She’d become something of a surrogate mother to Natalie over the years, making sure that Natalie always had somewhere to spend the holidays when she couldn’t fly home to Arizona, helping her line up tutoring clients, and taking her on shopping trips for her birthday.
“Marigold isn’t here,” Tess said to herself. “Right, okay.” She began typing furiously on her phone, muttering to herself. Bri ran over from the couch to whisper something to Hannah, who promptly ended her call.
Lulu sighed, looking suddenly more tired. “I know she’ll make it back in plenty of time. I just hate that she’s missing all the fun! Olivia too. It’s so strange that she’s not here yet. Have you heard from her? She hasn’t answered any of my texts, and we know she’s never away from her phone.”
“I’m sure she’s on her way. The golf carts were a bit late getting to the inn.”
“Thanks, hon.” Lulu squeezed her arm. “You’ve been a wonderful friend to Marigold. To all of us. You’re part of the family.”
“Okay,” Tess said, then took a deep breath and smiled. “Okay, it’s fine. We just need a Marigold stand-in for the rehearsal. Natalie, as the maid of honor, that’s your job.”
Natalie stared at her, startled. “Is that really necessary?”
Tess nodded emphatically. “Absolutely. The procession might look simple, but that’s because it’s all very carefully choreographed. We can’t skip any part of it.”
“Okay… but the maid of honor is part of the procession. Can’t we find someone else to stand in for Marigold so I don’t miss my own rehearsal?”
Natalie looked at Lulu, who shrugged. “Tess is the boss.”
A few minutes later, Natalie found herself standing in between Lulu and Bill.
She’d never felt more mortified in her entire life.
Standing in for Marigold felt like a mockery of Natalie’s singleness, as if she’d begged to try it on to know what it felt like to be a bride.
She cringed as she glimpsed Bri take a photo of her, then show it to Liesl, who shook her head with a smirk.
Natalie couldn’t bear to look up at Jonathan, who was standing at the other end of the room next to the officiant, a junior senator from Maine who also happened to be a good friend of Lulu and Bill’s.
Tess had bustled them all into their places so quickly, she hadn’t had time to tell Jonathan that she’d been roped into this against her will.
To her horror, the familiar opening notes of Pachelbel’s Canon began to play from hidden speakers. Natalie whipped around to see Tess fiddling with a panel of AV controls on the wall. “Please, no,” she whispered, breaking away from Bill and Lulu. “This is too much. We don’t need the music.”
“I agree,” Richie said in her trademark husky voice.
“This is just for blocking, right?” She either hadn’t yet changed for the rehearsal dinner—or else had put her own spin on the dress code with her slouchy black pants and cropped, ribbed white tank top—but there was a gravitas to her that Natalie found both surprising and impressive.
“Yes, we do need the music,” Tess said with a too-bright smile, like a kindergarten teacher who’d reached her breaking point with a troublesome child.
She’d clearly become immune to the power of celebrities over the course of her career.
“There are specific musical cues. Now if you could just return to your place…”
Natalie slunk back in between Lulu and Bill. “Don’t worry.” Bill elbowed her playfully. “Everyone knows we’re only doing this because Tess is a control freak.”
Natalie gave him a weak smile.
At Tess’s beckoning, the bridesmaids and groomsmen proceeded down the makeshift aisle two by two, with Jonathan’s mother standing in for Olivia, who still hadn’t returned.
“And now the bride,” Tess called out, motioning for them to start moving.