A Vineyard Thanksgiving

by Katie Winters

Charlotte poured him a cup of coffee. He thanked her and perched at the edge of the stool near the side of the kitchen. His dark brown curls shook around his ears and into his eyes. It was ultimate bedhead.

  He looked adorable, though.

  “What are your plans this morning?” Charlotte asked brightly. Outside, the sun brimmed over the horizon line and cast the snow in its first glittering light.

  “Well, I guess I had better go back to the Inn, shower, and change out of these clothes,” Everett said. “Seems like a pretty good place to begin.”

  “Makes sense,” Charlotte said.

  “And then I guess I plan to meet you guys back at the mansion around, what, noon?”

  “We plan to start decorating around then, so that’s perfect,” Charlotte affirmed.

  “You gonna put me to work?” he asked, chuckling.

  “Absolutely. It’ll be like day one, but ten times better. We’re pulling out all the stops. Which reminds me...” Charlotte furrowed her brow, remembering Claire. “Claire needs our help this morning, probably as soon as we can get to the flower shop. Rachel?”

  “I’m on it!” Rachel cried. She finished the rest of her Pop-Tart, spun on her heel, and hustled back toward the bathroom. In just a few seconds, they heard the sound of the shower.

  “Guess that’s my cue,” Everett said. He saluted her with the Pop-Tart and said, “Thanks for breakfast.”

  “Breakfast of champions, right?” Charlotte said. She couldn’t help but grin to herself.

  “That’s what I always say.”

  Charlotte and Rachel dragged themselves out of the house around forty-five minutes later and marched the rest of the way to Claire’s flower shop. When they creaked open the door, they heard Claire’s voice toward the back. They burst forward and found her surrounded in another heap of flowers, her cheeks blotchy.

  “I can’t find the lily of the valley,” she said. “I thought I had it. I...”

  “It’s over here, Mom!” Abby called from the far end of the room, where she was actually hidden by another few boxes of flowers.

  “It’s like heaven in here,” Charlotte said.

  “I don’t know if that’s how I would put it,” Claire said.

  “What can we do?” Charlotte demanded.

  Claire put the girls to work over the next few hours, arranging the boutonniere and the bouquets carefully. “I’ve already sent a few vans of flowers over to the mansion itself. The staff should be half-way through decorating by now,” Claire affirmed.

  “I think I want to get over there to check-in,” Charlotte said. “I’m getting nervous and want to make sure the ballroom is set up, not to mention the dining hall.”

  “That dining hall is immaculate,” Claire said, clucking her tongue. “I don’t think I’d seen it before yesterday when we started to set up.”

  “It is, isn’t it? Fit for a princess like Ursula.”

  “What are you talking about? Ursula is a queen,” Claire said, rolling her eyes.

  “Maybe she’ll be better behaved today,” Rachel said doubtfully.

  “Maybe,” Charlotte said.

  Claire gave her a funny look as Abby, Rachel, and Gail took a load of flowers out to the van.

  “What’s been going on with you and that photographer by the way?” she asked.

  Charlotte shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know. He seems to watch out for you. He’s always looking for you. I don’t know. People have been talking.”

  “There’s always gossip going around this family, isn’t there?” Charlotte said. “But no. Sorry to disappoint. I’m just glad to have a rational photographer in the mix. Plus, he works for Wedding Today, which means there’s a chance we could work together in the future.”

  “Oh. So you’re networking,” Claire said, arching an eyebrow at her cousin.

  “I can hear from your tone that you’re teasing me, and I want you to know that I don’t appreciate it,” Charlotte retorted with her hands on her hips.

  As Abby, Gail, and Rachel returned from outside, Abby called out, “Apparently, that hot photographer slept at Rachel’s house last night!”

  Claire’s jaw dropped. “Charlotte!”

  “He slept on the couch!” Charlotte blared. “It was cold out and it just kind of happened.”

  But there was no getting that glint out of Claire’s eyes. Charlotte grumbled to herself and gave Rachel a slightly dirty look. “Thanks for getting me in trouble,” she muttered as she walked past. “Claire won’t let me live this one down.”

  WHEN THEY ARRIVED AT the mansion, they parked the van along the far side, closer to the Nantucket Sound. Charlotte crunched out across the snow and gazed out across the waters. They seemed darker, more secretive, and somehow more sinister than they normally did. Sometimes, she had a hard time looking out over them, as her mind always went there.

  That storm, creeping in, taking over Jason’s boat...

  She shook her long locks and turned around to spot Lola driving up with Christine and Zach in tow. The next car delivered Audrey, Amanda, and Susan. Charlotte waved hello and pointed toward the double-wide and two-story-tall doors, which Claire and the girls had already propped open.

  “Just head that way. Claire will put you to work,” she said.

  That moment, a taxi pulled up. A dark boot cut out and onto the snowy pavement below. That voice: gritty and so masculine, it sent chills up and down her spine.

  “Hey there,” Everett said after he had paid. As the taxi skidded out of the parking lot, he lifted his camera and said, “Do you mind? You look great with the water backdrop. The sun’s hitting your hair just perfectly.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Don’t waste any of your camera space on me. I’m the wedding planner. I get paid to be as invisible as possible.”

  “Come on. This is the last day of your anonymity,” Everett argued. “After this, your phone is going to ring off the hook.”

  Charlotte allowed him to snap one, two, three photos until she whipped up her hands and said, “Enough! I have to go help my decorators. And if I’m not mistaken, I promised you a few jobs as well.”

  “I’m here to serve,” Everett said. “I spotted a few other photographers in Oak Bluffs, by the way. Tabloid people, probably coming to stand outside the mansion and take photos as people come in beforehand.”

  “Great,” Charlotte said sarcastically. “Even more drama to deal with.”

  “In twenty-four hours, this will all be over.”

  “Yeah. Or the mansion will be on fire, Ursula will want my head, and the newsstands will all read, ‘Infamous Wedding Planner on the Run,’” Charlotte said.

  “Wherever you end up, send me a secret letter, so I know,” Everett said.

  “You mean like The Shawshank Redemption?” Charlotte asked.

  “Exactly. Glad you got it.”

  Charlotte half-skipped into the mansion to find her incredible crew hard at work on the decorations. The place looked astounding, almost exactly the way she had pictured it, with more than fifteen Christmas trees decorated with gorgeous hanging bulbs made of crystal, chandeliers that reflected the beautiful sunlight that streamed in from the east, and long, thin tables reminiscent of long-ago balls held at that very mansion. As she gazed out at her dearest family members, Rachel rose up on a ladder and placed a perfect crystal bulb near the top of the largest Christmas tree. She inspected it, her hands on her hips, pleased.

  Everything was suddenly falling into place.

  Which meant, of course, that it was time for the phone to ring with news of disaster.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Charlotte? Charlotte, is that you?”

  Charlotte immediately recognized the frantic voice of Ursula’s mother, who she had spoken to only briefly the day before but many times over the previous weeks.

  “Yes, of course. What’s wrong?” Her heart pattered wildly in her throat.

  “Charlotte, you need to get up here. We
have a little bit of a situation.”

  “Are you in Ursula’s suite?” Charlotte asked.

  “No. Um.” Wind crackled and whipped across the phone on the other end, proof that they were outside somewhere. “I’m not sure where we are, to be honest with you. She just burst outside and started to run...”

  Ugh.

  “Okay. Can you describe your surroundings, maybe?”

  “It’s this long, skinny strip of sand,” Mrs. Pennington continued. “I don’t know. I see a sign, but it’s all covered with snow.”

  “Joseph Sylvia. Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Charlotte said.

  Charlotte pressed her phone to her chest and blinked up into the lovely eyes of Everett Rainey.

  “You look like something’s wrong,” he told her.

  “Something seems to always be wrong with this wedding,” she replied. She suddenly erupted with a hiccup and felt so embarrassed. She placed her hand over her mouth abruptly and grimaced. “I’m so sorry. I think the stress is just...” She hiccupped again.

  Everett’s smile was infectious. “Let me guess. You have to go find Ursula?”

  Charlotte nodded with her hand still pressed over her mouth. Her entire body jumped again with another hiccup. “But I can’t go like this,” she said, her voice quivering through her fingers. “Not with the hiccups. Ugh! Today started out so well!”

  “Just breathe deeply,” Everett told her. “In for four counts, out for four counts. You’re just stressed. I used to get the hiccups all the time before piano competitions.”

  Charlotte let her hand drop and followed Everett’s guidance: in for four, out for four. Slowly, she walked toward the exit, totally focused on her breath and her footwork. By the time she grabbed her coat from the coatroom, she felt the hiccups dissipate.

  “That actually worked...” she said to Everett, who had followed her with his camera.

  “I told you.”

  “Wait. You play piano? Never mind. I’d like to ask you more about this, but right now...”

  “Ursula calls,” Everett affirmed.

  Gumdrop-sized snowflakes floated down from the sky. Charlotte gripped the top of her skirt to allow her legs to stretch out before her, limber and quick. Everett hustled beside her. The air felt sharp in her throat, yet so clear. It was like drinking ice water.

  When they reached the Joseph Sylvia State Beach, they stopped short at the sight before them.

  Near the waves, wearing only her stark white and barely-there wedding dress, stood Ursula.

  The picture itself was one of the most beautiful images Charlotte had ever seen.

  The wind whipped Ursula’s blonde locks around and tore at the bottom of her lacey wedding dress, curving it across the sand. Her hands lifted her skirts slightly at the front to allow her toes to tip into the very first of the rushing waves. As the chilly water rushed toward her ankles, Ursula’s bright red lips curved into a smile.

  “She looks like she has totally lost it,” Charlotte breathed, placing a hand on her forehead. How would she get Ursula back into the mansion?

  Everett snapped several photos. Charlotte couldn’t blame him. The sight was extraordinary. Someone had to record it.

  Ursula’s mother was several feet behind her daughter, calling her name. The sound of it was tremendously horrible, strained, and sad.

  “Ursula, baby, come back over here. Let’s talk about it! Come now. It’s so chilly out here. You’re going to catch a cold.”

  Charlotte hustled the rest of the way to Ursula’s mother, careful not to get too close to the icy water or Ursula herself. When she reached Mrs. Pennington, the woman gave her a look of incredulity, like, Who are you?

  “Mrs. Pennington. I came as quickly as I could.”

  “Oh. Yes. Of course.” Mrs. Pennington’s eyes filled with tears. “She’s a tiny bit drunk, I’m afraid, and having second thoughts.”

  Charlotte’s heart surged with fear. “Second thoughts are totally normal. I see this all the time with young brides on their wedding day.”

  In actuality, Charlotte had only seen one bride with second thoughts—and that bride hadn’t gotten drunk and tried to walk into the ocean at the end of November.

  But it was better to lie right now.

  “Really?” Mrs. Pennington asked.

  “Of course.”

  Charlotte scrunched her nose and tip-toed through the sand toward Ursula. When she reached her, a wave rushed up and completely drenched her boot. The chill shot through her feet and her calves. Her fingers were already turning blue.

  “Ursula?” Charlotte said. Her voice hardly cut through the wind.

  Ursula slowly turned her face toward Charlotte. The motion was strangely robotic, and her eyes were glassy, proof of her drunkenness.

  Still, her eyeliner was killer.

  She was every bit the classic movie star the world wanted her to be. Just a little bit more messed up, as well.

  “Ursula, what are you doing out here?” Charlotte asked softly.

  Ursula staggered a bit. Charlotte was ready to throw herself forward if only to save that gorgeous wedding dress from being drenched in the waves.

  “I don’t think I really love him,” Ursula stated. She bit hard on her lower lip and let a few tears fall.

  “Okay. That’s okay. Um. Why don’t we go inside and talk about it a little bit more?”

  “I just think I’m doing it because my agent said the public wanted to watch me grow up,” she continued. “I got my first Oscar when I was twenty-four years old. And now, I’m nearing thirty, and I’m like—what’s next? So I guess this is next?”

  “It doesn’t have to be next if you don’t want it to be.” Charlotte willed the girl to get cold enough to take this introspective conversation indoors.

  “But then what? I go in there and tell Orion that this is all a farce? And really—I mean, if we’re getting down to the actual facts here, I don’t believe that he didn’t cheat on me, either on his bachelor week, or after an away game, or...”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Charlotte argued, trying to knock some sense into her.

  Ursula’s lower lip bubbled. She dropped her chin toward her chest, totally defeated. Charlotte reached forward, grabbed her elbow—which was as cold as steel in winter—and said, “Let’s get you inside, okay? I make the best hot cocoa known to man. Maybe I can make you some.”

  Surprisingly, the idea of hot cocoa was the thing that finally got acclaimed actress Ursula Pennington away from the hungry waves and back inside. When they arrived back to the mansion, they entered the wing nearest Ursula’s suite. Ursula walked like a stunted model, her legs hardly bending at the knee. Charlotte and Mrs. Pennington hovered behind her. When Charlotte turned back to close the door of the wing, she found Everett there. She had completely forgotten about him in all the chaos.

  “What’s up?” he asked, his beautiful eyes wide.

  Charlotte heaved a sigh and spoke under her breath. “Apparently, Ursula is having second thoughts.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ve gone through all this, just so she can cancel last-minute?”

  “I know. I know. My head might spin off my neck,” Charlotte said, biting her lower lip as she felt her anxiety build.

  “Well. Huh. Okay.” Everett scratched under his chin. “Maybe I can go talk to him.”

  “To whom?”

  “Orion.”

  Charlotte shrugged. “I’m willing to try anything to get these two down the aisle. Ursula is convinced Orion cheated on her. Maybe if you can get him to say he didn’t?”

  Everett considered this. “Do you think it’s immoral to try to force two people we don’t know to marry each other for the sake of our own personal gain?”

  Charlotte laughed. The words were so outrageous. The whole thing was, actually. “We can’t force them to do anything. Let’s just see where the wind takes us today.”

  At this, Everett lifted
his camera and took another shot of Charlotte, standing there in the doorway. He inspected the photo on the little screen and laughed to himself.

  “What’s so funny? Do I look like I’m having the worst day of my life?”

  Everett’s blue eyes found hers again. “No. You look beautiful.”

  With that, Everett turned and marched toward the other wing, which led toward Orion’s suite. Charlotte watched as the snow fluttered down around them. This was the strangest day.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Everett arrived outside Orion’s suite a few minutes later. His heart hummed in his throat; his skin was spiky with a chill, and his mind buzzed with a memory of Charlotte. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had looked at him like that. Like he, himself, owned the world and could give it to her.

  A split-second after Everett knocked on the door, one of Orion’s seven-foot-tall teammates ripped it open and looked at him with a sour expression.

  “Can I help you?” His eyes scanned down toward Everett’s camera. “No photos.”

  “Oh, no. I’m actually here because of Ursula,” Everett explained. “I need to speak to Orion.”

  “Orion doesn’t want to be spoken to,” the teammate boomed.

  “I understand that. But it’s important.” Everett caught sight of Orion in the far end of the suite. He was hunched forward, his elbows on his knees, a glass of something that looked an awful lot like whiskey in his hand. “I know Ursula tried to call off the wedding. I think there’s a way we can save it.”

  The silence stretched between all of them. Another teammate whispered something in Orion’s ear. Finally, Orion grunted and said, “Let the photographer in.”

  The first teammate shut the door closed immediately after Everett stepped inside, nearly clipping it against the back of his boots. The mood in the suite was ominous. Orion himself looked as though he had been hit by a truck. He sipped more of his whiskey and gestured toward the chair in front of him.

  “You said you think you can save my wedding? Sit down and tell me how,” he ordered. His words were heavy with sarcasm, and his eyes said, You think you, of all people, have the answers? Yeah. Right.