CHAPTER THIRTY – SYLVIE
I was not, in fact, perfectly fine.
I was on the verge of my breaking point.
Not that it would come as a surprise to anyone since I’d been teetering there since I’d stepped foot in Castleton, but I really did think I was about to lose it. I’d barely slept last night, and I’d had the most horrible knot in my stomach all morning, like I was waiting for something to go wrong.
Again, not a shock, given the long string of disasters that had come hand in hand with this wedding.
Never had so many Christmas decorations fit in one car. I wondered how many it was possible to fit before it was too weighed down to move.
Hazel was going for that record, whatever it was.
Every inch of Grandpa’s Jeep was filled with the decorations for her wedding trees. It hadn’t seemed like quite as much as it was when I’d cracked open the garage and seen them in a pile, complete with a dramatic tear-stained note signed by her, but now it was in the car…
Well, it was a bit full on.
It wasn’t like I had all of them, either.
Given all the drama, Emily had offered some of her extra, unused decorations—which was something, coming from a woman with sixteen trees in her house.
Thomas was swinging by the venue to drop them off, and both my mother and Julian’s mum would be coming to help me finish decorating within the hour.
All while the bride lollygagged in a nearby spa getting a facial or whatever it was that she was booked in for while everyone else rushed to get the old town hall ready for her rehearsal in two days’ time.
I stifled a yawn with my hand as I turned onto the main street to reach the town hall. Christmas was always tiring, but since I usually spent it alone in Dorset, it was never quite this tiring. I had a hunch that Christmas at home would be exhausting even without Hazel’s wedding.
It didn’t escape me how I was no longer thinking of Dorset as ‘home’ either. Castleton always had been my home, and I’d been deluding myself by thinking I could spend a whole month here and not fall in love with it all over again.
Not that I had any idea what to do about it.
The thought of leaving this place with my family, friends both new and old, and… Thomas… was one that settled heavily deep in the pit of my stomach. It was nothing but an aching sadness.
One that mixed with the apprehension of leaving the life I’d built for myself.
I wasn’t sure if I could truly leave Castleton, but I also didn’t know if I could walk away from my life, either.
Not that I had the time to be thinking about this, of course. I had far too much to do and not nearly enough time in which to get it done thanks to Hazel’s fuck up, so torturing myself over a choice nobody was forcing me to make was pointless right now.
Especially before nine a.m. and on an empty stomach.
Nothing important should be decided in such painful conditions.
I took my final turn towards the town hall and was blocked by construction vehicles.
Construction vehicles.
Why was the road filled with them? Why couldn’t I get through?
The niggle of anxiety that had been tickling at me all morning burst to life until the tickle was a painful prickling of my skin from my head to my toes.
I pulled up behind the vehicles and yanked my keys from the ignition before running between two dumper trucks.
It was a mistake.
The town hall no longer had a roof.
There was a gaping hole where the slate shingles once were.
“Stop! Stooooop!” My voice ripped out of me as I shoved my way past a builder.
“Miss, you can’t—”
“You have to stop!” Panic welled inside me. “My—my sister is supposed to get married here in three days!”
The guy’s eyes widened. “You have to be mistaken, miss. Are you sure this is the right address?”
“Yes, I’m sure, I’m the bloody wedding planner!
” I shouted. “Oh, God. Please, you have to stop. Look, I can prove it. My card.” I fumbled in my bag for my business card holder and opened it, but my shaky hands weren’t strong enough to hold onto it.
It clattered to the floor, sending my cards scattering across the compacted snow.
He bent down and picked one up. “All right, Miss… Harding, is it? Hold on.”
Hold on?
Hold onto what?
The wedding venue with no roof?
I know Hazel always wanted a winter wonderland wedding, but this was a bit too on the nose.
And since when did council contractors work this close to Christmas?
The guy pulled a radio out of his pocket. “Stop. Got a woman here saying her sister’s getting married here in three days.”
He still didn’t believe me.
The contract.
I had to pull up the business contract.
My phone.
Where was my phone?
In my bag?
Oh, but my hands. Shaky hands. If I dropped my phone, I’d be done for.
“Yeah, will do.” The guy put his radio away. “Miss, please calm down. Did you come here in your car?”
“I—yes. I’m parked over there.” I pointed to behind the trucks. “The old Land Rover.”
“All right. Go sit in your car, and the boss will be over there in a second.”
Right.
My car.
I could get the contract then, and it wouldn’t matter if I dropped my phone.
“Okay.” I swallowed down my panic and turned back for my car.
I couldn’t be big sister Sylvie right now.
I had to be wedding planner Sylvie.
I had to be cool, calm, collected.
Wedding planner Sylvie could fix this.
Right?
Wedding planner Sylvie could fix everything.
I dug through my email for my last correspondence with Kim, my contact at the council. It was the thread with the confirmation of the demolition date and the contract, and it clearly stated that the scheduled date was January twenty-first of next year.
So, what were they doing here?
Why were they knocking it down now?
Two knocks rattled my car window, and I turned to see a large man pulling off his hardhat.
“Are you Miss Harding?” he asked in the deep, raspy voice of someone who’d been smoking twenty cigarettes a day since he was thirteen.
“Yes, that’s me,” I replied as I got out of the car.
“Pete Samuelson. I’m the foreman. Jack said you had a problem with the demolition?”
“Yes, my sister is supposed to be getting married here on Christmas Eve. I have the contract with the council stating the demolition date for next month right here.” I showed him my phone, and he raised one chapped finger to the screen to scroll through. “Kim Matthews is my liaison at the council.”
“Mm.” Pete narrowed his eyes. “I got the sheet here, love, and it definitely has today’s date on it.” He flipped a sheet on his clipboard and turned it to me. “See? Right there.”
The lump in my throat grew to a suffocating size.
He wasn’t lying.
It was right there.
The day. The month. The year.
Today’s date. The start date.
I pressed my hand to my mouth as the tell-tale swirl of panic twisted my stomach again. “There’s been a mistake.”
“Certainly seems so, love.” He rubbed his hand across his mouth. “We’ll need to figure out what’s happened, but—”
“Sylvie? What’s going on?”
Thomas’ voice washed over me, but the peace it brought was nothing more than a momentary flash of relief.
“Thomas! There’s a mistake on the papers.” I grabbed his arm. “They—they… Oh, God. I can’t—” My legs wobbled, and I stumbled as weakness trickled through my veins.
“It’s okay. Hey, come here.” He pulled me into his side, wrapping his arm firmly around my waist.
Pete looked at me with sympathetic eyes. “You know her, mister?”
“Yes, I do,” Thomas replied before I could refute it. He stuck his hand out. “I’m Thomas Castleton, the Duke of Castleton. Can you tell me what’s going on here, sir?”
Pete blinked rapidly but shook his hand enthusiastically all the same.
“Right. Your Grace. I’m the foreman, Pete.
Pete Samuelson. Seems like there’s been a mix up on the dates.
Miss Harding here says her sister is getting married on Christmas Eve, but my paperwork has the demolition date as today and tomorrow. Mr Castleton. Your dukeship. Sir.”
I gripped Thomas’ coat tightly, squeezing my eyes shut as I pressed my face into his chest.
Do something. Fix it. Using your title was a power move. Help me. Please.
“Have you already started demolition?” Thomas asked.
“’Fraid so, sir. I’ve paused the team for now given what the lady said.”
“Then I’m assuming you haven’t gotten to the bottom of the confusion?”
“Not yet. I was going to call the office and see what’s going on, but I just wanted to make sure the lady knew the situation.”
I peered over at him. “The situation?”
Pete rubbed his bald head. “Yeah. I’m sorry, miss, but even if our date is wrong, I can’t let you inside.”
No.
“If you’d shown up an hour ago, we wouldn’t have started yet.”
No.
“As it is right now, the building isn’t safe.”
No.
“I’m afraid your sister can’t get married here.”
No.
The panic that had been brewing inside me bubbled over. My knees buckled, and the way my strength left my body was both sudden and slow, and I collapsed into a crouch with only the side of Grandpa’s car keeping me upright.
“Sylvie!” Thomas bent down in front of me, but I could barely see him.
It was just… blurry.
Oh. I was crying. And my head was fuzzy. And my chest was tight.
I couldn’t breathe.
Why couldn’t I breathe? Or see? Or hear?
All there was, was his words. Over and over again.
“Your sister can’t get married here.”
“Your sister can’t get married here.”
“Your sister can’t get married here.”
“Your sister can’t get married here.”
I was wrong.
Wedding planner Sylvie couldn’t fix this.
Nobody could fix this.