1. Double Booked #2
"Well, it's not done yet! But yes, as my gift.
Few weeks of work, but she's worth it." Becca smiled again, that full-body smile, the one that expected the world to smile back.
"So. You're the famous Margot. Corporate lawyer, just made partner, terrifyingly competent at everything.
Sophie warned me." She stuck out her hand.
"I'm Becca, by the way. Rebecca Marisol Navarro, technically, but only my abuela uses the full thing—and only when I'm in real trouble. "
"Warned you," Margot echoed.
"Sophie's words, not mine. She called it an 'affectionate warning.' She said you'd probably have a color-coded binder."
Margot glanced involuntarily at her tote bag.
Becca followed her gaze and laughed. "Oh my god, you do. That's incredible. Can I see it?"
"It's just organizational materials."
"Are there more than twelve tabs?" she asked, gleeful. She didn't seem to be making fun of Margot. Odd.
"How did you—"
"Sophie told me. She said you sent her a spreadsheet of possible honeymoon destinations ranked by weather patterns, visa requirements, and hotel amenities.
" Becca's eyes were bright with something that wasn't mockery.
More like delighted fascination. "I love that.
I could never. My organizational system is 'put things in piles and hope for the best.' You'd be surprised, but I almost always remember where things are!
It's when someone cleans up my piles that I get frazzled. "
Margot had gathered that from the suitcase, which Becca was now dragging toward the bedroom. She followed, watching as Becca surveyed the sleeping situation.
"One bed, huh?" Becca dropped the suitcase on the floor, the right side thankfully, and flopped onto the mattress. "Classic. Very romcom. Don't worry, I don't kick. Much."
Margot didn't laugh.
Becca's smile faded. She sat up, something more careful entering her expression. "I'm kidding. Sophie said you like your space. I can sleep on the sitting room couch if—"
Margot's chest twinged. Probably heartburn from the taco truck she'd stopped at on the road. "That won't be necessary."
"You sure? I really don't mind. I can sleep anywhere. Once I fell asleep on a flour sack in my apartment kitchen after a sixty-hour cake marathon. A couch would be luxury."
A flour sack?
"The bed is fine." Margot heard how clipped she sounded and couldn't seem to soften it. "We're adults. We can share."
"Right. Totally. Adults." Becca bounced off the bed and started unzipping her suitcase. "So how long have you known Sophie? She said you guys go way back."
"Since middle school."
"That's amazing. My oldest friendship is from college, Sophie obviously.
We were roommates freshman year. She was the only person who didn't complain when I baked at three in the morning.
" Becca was pulling clothes from her suitcase with no apparent system: a tangle of colors, fabrics spilling onto the right side of the bed, knotted charging cords, and was that a tube of toothpaste? It wasn't even in a plastic bag!
Margot shuddered. How was this woman still alive?
The other woman chattered on. "She used to sit on the counter and eat raw cookie dough while I worked. Said it was meditative, watching someone else be stressed. But I'm pretty sure she was just in it for the sweets at first, and then I grew on her! Like a fungus."
Margot could picture it perfectly. Sophie had the biggest sweet tooth of anyone she'd ever met. And she'd always been like that, finding calm in other people's chaos, collecting anxious overachievers like strays.
Margot of all people should know, being the very first one and all.
"Welcome dinner's in an hour," she said. "I was planning to walk over early, check that everything's set up correctly."
"Oh, sure. I should probably shower first. Clean off the airport gunk, you know." Becca ran a hand through her curls, which only made them more chaotic. "But I can be ready in thirty? We could walk together?"
It wasn't a question. Or rather, it was, but barely, given it was the kind of question that expected a yes.
Margot thought about saying no. About inventing some task that required her presence at the venue immediately, something that couldn't wait.
But Sophie's voice was in her head: Give her a chance. And Becca was standing there in her flower-print sundress with cake decorations in the fridge and a suitcase full of chaos, looking at Margot like she genuinely wanted to walk to dinner together.
"Thirty minutes," Margot said. "I'll be in the sitting room."
"Perfect!" Becca was already halfway to the bathroom, grabbing a toiletry bag from her suitcase that was, of course, covered in cartoon cupcake stickers. "You won't regret this, I promise. I'm excellent company and very entertaining. Sophie calls me 'aggressively friendly.'"
The bathroom door closed.
Margot stood alone in the bedroom, surrounded by the wreckage of Becca's unpacking. A yellow cardigan was draped over the footboard. Her makeup bag had disgorged its contents across the nightstand. There was a snack-sized bag of disgusting airplane pretzels on the pillow.
How? Becca had been in this stupid cottage for less than 15 minutes.
She closed her eyes.