The One Before: A totally gripping suspense thriller with a shocking twist

by Miranda Smith

“And I’d like some flowers sprinkled around the reception, but I think a mix of different candles could be very romantic.”

  “I love that idea. Anything else?” Her nerves are diminishing. I think she prefers hearing my ideas over suggesting her own.

  I look toward the ceiling, trying to think. “I guess that’s another reason I’m looking for a planner last-minute. I don’t really know what I want. I was never the girl who sat around and thought about her wedding day. I only wanted to find the right man.”

  “And have you?” she asks, holding eye contact. “Have you found the right man?”

  “Coop is wonderful.” I smile, feeling my own nervousness subsiding. “When I get overwhelmed about all this other stuff, I try to focus on that.”

  Anne clears her throat and looks at her notes, as though she’s searching for the right words. “You’re right. Finding a good man is the most important part. Everything else is secondary.”

  Anne pushes forward the folder she’s brought. As I flip through the pictures, she answers more questions. The more we talk, the more it feels like a conversation, not an interview. Anne isn’t trying to impress me; she wants to please. She’s managed to remind me that our wedding is about Coop and me, not Josephine or the latest trends in Brides magazine.

  “I realize it’s a struggle to travel here each time we make plans,” I say, seeing our hour together is nearly over. “I don’t mind traveling to Knoxville, if that would make things easier on your behalf.”

  “It seems there aren’t many decisions left to be made. I don’t foresee us needing many sessions. Besides, it’s nice to leave the city, even if it’s only for the afternoon.” She smiles. Anne has kind, almond-shaped eyes and a narrow nose. Her charm is more apparent now than it was at the beginning of our meeting.

  “When is the next time you can come to Whisper Falls?”

  “Would next Thursday work? That will give me time to contact florists. Maybe we could choose centerpieces?”

  “Sounds great.” My chest fills with joy at the idea we’re finally moving forward and making decisions. This wedding, which for several weeks has seemed stalled midair, is happening.

  Anne puts the notebook back into her purse. “Does this mean you’d like my help in coordinating your big day?”

  “I think we have a similar understanding of what I’d like. I’d love for you to be a part of it.”

  “Thank you.” Anne smiles from ear to ear. I think this yes means more to her than it would have to the other women. They would have flaunted their Douglas family win. Anne seems happy she is enough. “I’m delighted to get to know you.”

  I follow Anne to the door and watch her leave. This time when I return to the living room, I feel satisfied. This might be the first decision I’ve made since moving to Whisper Falls that I know is right.

  Nineteen

  Helena

  Finally, something is working out. I got the job. There were a lot of ways this could have blown up in my face. My mission could have easily ended before it began, but, for once, I think fortune is on my side. Fate wants me to get involved. The universe wants to finally right all the wrongs.

  Whisper Falls is a gossipy town. After a few days of frequenting Nectar and other high-traffic establishments, I caught wind Josephine Douglas was searching for event planners. Her golden boy was getting married, people said. Whisper natives weren’t surprised one bit she was passing over local options in favor of a wedding consultant in Knoxville. That’s what sparked my idea, as far-fetched as it might have seemed.

  I baited at least a dozen wedding planners before one took a bite. Anne Richards not only confirmed she was meeting with the future Mrs. Douglas; she provided all the information I needed.

  “You’ll be in Whisper Falls this weekend?” I asked Anne over the phone, posing as one of Josephine Douglas’ house managers.

  “This weekend?” Anne sounded flustered and annoyed. “I thought our consultation was this Friday at two.”

  “There must have been a mix-up,” I said. “Ms. Sharpe booked all of her appointments for this Saturday.”

  “I won’t be able to make it then. I’m available Monday if Ms. Sharpe—”

  “I’m incredibly sorry, but decisions will need to be made quickly. The wedding is only three months away, as is. I’m sure you understand.”

  Anne didn’t sound very understanding when she hung up the phone. She, like the other planners Josephine contacted, must know this is a high-dollar affair. My aim wasn’t to inconvenience Anne; she was simply the first planner on my list to admit she had an appointment in Whisper Falls. She gave me all the details I needed to pose as her from that point forward.

  From the cramped corners of a place called Computers and Coffee, I researched Anne’s website. I printed off a few pictures from recent events and added them to a folder. My cover would be blown immediately if I didn’t create some kind of backstory. Thankfully, an event planner wasn’t much of a stretch. Believe it or not, I was once known for orchestrating fabulous parties, back when I was younger and less bitter. After my daughter’s death, I could no longer muster the enthusiasm. And yet here I am, polishing up the best parts of the old me, for Madison.

  I arrived during Anne’s appointed time slot. For a moment, I didn’t know if I could go through with it. I feared Madison might figure me out, know I was some fraud with an ulterior agenda. Then I reminded myself Madison had no reason to suspect anything. As long as there weren’t any other members of the Douglas family present, I’d be fine. Josephine would remember my face; Madison couldn’t pick me or Anne out of a crowd.

  My confidence plummeted when I walked inside the house. Standing in Cooper Douglas’ foyer was almost too much to bear. My eyes scanned the new furniture that filled their living room. According to the gossipers in Whisper, Josephine Douglas had dropped a ghastly amount of money at some place called Turner’s to furnish this place. For a brief moment, I wanted to stampede into the living room and break every vase, use the shards to carve into the fabric of their new sectional. Why should he get all this normalcy? Why does he deserve a beautiful home and a darling bride-to-be?

  I reeled my thoughts from that dark tunnel, focusing instead on her. On Madison Sharpe. She’s blonde and beautiful and pretty much all the things you’d expect a guy like Cooper Douglas to tie down. Boy, has he tied her down! She’s all about her new little life in Whisper Falls, using her induction to the Douglas clan to her advantage. I’m guessing that’s why she didn’t even try to find employment. Why is it women these days are so ready to throw away their own value for a man? My girl wasn’t like that.

  At the same time, I don’t think she’s oblivious to the monster with whom she shares her bed. Her eyes are too bright and her smile too wide. Beneath her cheery façade, I sense a layer of insecurity. Loneliness, perhaps. It takes a truly lonely person to spot another. I guess that’s what happens when you trade in your entire life for a shiny ring! It won’t take long to build a rapport with her, I can tell.

  Of course, I’d sound like an absolute crazy person if I revealed my true intentions during our first visit. I need to build a bond first. Make her know she can trust me. Trust is vital if I want her to believe a word I say, and she needs to believe me. That’s the only way I can turn her against Cooper.

  So I listened as she talked about flowers and colors and candles. I’d assumed she’d desire a reception in some barn followed by a photography session in an itchy cornfield. That’s the aesthetic these days, according to my research. Madison is different from the girls around here though; it’s hard to say for the moment whether that works in my favor.

  I’ll humor her during our next visit by bringing flowers. I’ll print off more pictures, and maybe we can even sample a menu or two. I’ll help her plan the wedding of her dreams because that’s what she needs from me right now. In the end, none of it will matter. Because there’s no way in hell this wedding will happen. I’ll make sure of that.

  Twenty

>   Madison

  I haven’t felt this giddy about the wedding since I bought my dress. My meeting with Anne serves as a reminder that my future with Coop is happening, regardless of any unsightly roadblocks I might encounter along the way. I pull up Anne’s website and click through images. Most of the photographs aren’t weddings; it seems in recent years she’s focused more on community fundraisers. She probably thought that would hurt her chances of getting the job.

  On the contrary, I find Anne’s detachment from bridal trends refreshing. She didn’t enter our appointment with preconceived notions of what my wedding should be, unlike the previous planners I met with. Instead, Anne was willing to hear my suggestions, my vision. I’m at ease with her, and I haven’t felt that way often since moving to Whisper Falls.

  For years, I’ve defined myself through my job and personal achievements. With that gone, my confidence has plummeted. I think that’s why I’ve felt more insecure about Celia, and the idea people think Coop is to blame amplifies those emotions. From the time he told me about his teenage girlfriend who drowned in the lake, it’s bothered me. I resent the hold she seems to have over both our lives, although Coop has always provided reassurance about his feelings for me.

  One memory remains fresh in my mind. It was the night we got together to celebrate Beth and Matt’s engagement. We used to be inseparable: Beth and Matt, Coop and me. Before Coop, we were more of a trio, seeing as Beth and Matt had been together since college. Coop and I had only been together six months at that point, but we’d already cemented our status as a foursome. To celebrate, we got hammered in my apartment after a fancy dinner. Two bottles in, Matt suggested we play drinking games.

  “It’d be like college all over again,” he said, his bald head gleaming underneath the overhead light.

  “Come on,” Beth said, swatting his arm. “Aren’t we too old for that sort of thing? We’re supposed to be sophisticated.” She did a wobbly shoulder shrug soaked in sarcasm.

  “It’ll be fun,” Coop said, squeezing my waist.

  We tried to recall popular games from our schooldays but couldn’t remember any of the rules and felt ancient when we pulled out our phones to google them. Instead, we sat on the floor answering questions; after each round, everyone took an obligatory swig of their drink. The categories were equal parts entertaining and intrusive. First kiss. Worst date. First time getting drunk. Coop recalled the time his date hurled in an alleyway beside his apartment building; Beth told a handful of stories relating to our exploits in college. The next category Matt suggested, First Love, made us all a little uneasy.

  “Mine was the same as my first kiss,” Matt said, volunteering to go first. “Cynthia.”

  “The sixth grader on the playground?” Beth asked.

  “We had a very special connection,” he said.

  “You’re full of it! No point in playing the game if you’re going to make jokes,” Beth said. “My high school boyfriend, Tanner. Thank goodness he broke my heart, otherwise I might not be here.”

  “Good for us both,” Matt said, squeezing Beth tighter. “Madison?”

  “Christian. We dated for a year in college,” I answered.

  “That guy was such a douche,” Beth said, tossing a pillow at me for even mentioning the name. “I think my entire sophomore year was devoted to playing referee during your arguments.”

  “He wasn’t the best guy,” I said, clenching my jaw.

  I looked at Coop, waiting to hear his response. He hadn’t had many serious relationships: Celia, a few girls in college and me. Inside I worried—feared—he might say that Celia, the enigmatic girl with the tragic ending who had a way of poisoning my thoughts, was his first love. Another woman would be more bearable; at least he chose to separate from his other exes. Celia was taken from him without choice, which must leave him wondering, would he have left her? Had she not died, would he even be here for me to love? Most high school and college relationships fizzle. People change and mature and move on. Life sorts things out, not death.

  “Laura,” he answered. “We met in college.”

  I discreetly exhaled the breath I’d been holding. I was relieved his first love wasn’t Celia. I needed to believe their relationship was nothing more than a youthful infatuation. I didn’t want to play second fiddle to his deceased ex-girlfriend, for him to wonder how his life might have unfolded had she lived. The cycle of love and loss brought him to me. It brought us to each other.

  “I change my answer,” Matt bellowed, interrupting my sentimental thoughts. “Truth is, Beth is my first love. I just didn’t want to say it and sound like a sap. She’s my one and only.”

  Beth beamed, leaning in for a kiss. Beth and Matt had that spark about them. I always knew they’d end up together. We continued drinking and sharing stories until late in the night. Beth and Matt slept on my cratered futon. Coop slept in my bed; in fact, that was the first night he suggested we live together. I remember drifting to sleep in his arms, happy our connection was growing. I wince, looking back. I miss the naïve, uncomplicated elements of young love. Now, our lives seem so tense.

  When Coop arrives, he brings Mexican takeout and margarita ingredients. It’s his attempt to erase this morning’s squabble. Celia and the mysteries of her death still linger in my mind, but I want to push them away and enjoy my time with Coop. Spending the afternoon discussing our wedding has left me elated.

  “So, you’ve found our wedding planner?” he asks, placing a freshly mixed drink into my hand.

  “I have.” I smile, thinking of Anne’s simple ways and how pleased she was to be selected. “She’s a nice woman. She has a clear understanding of what I want the day to be.”

  “I don’t understand why having a planner is so important. I think most people could manage organizing one night on their own.”

  “I could, but I think I’d also be second-guessing every decision I make. Then your mom would be triple-guessing.” I quickly sip my drink, hoping that dig wasn’t too forward. “In the end, I guess that’s why we’re paying her. To make me feel like I’m making the right decisions.”

  “Do whatever you need. I want this day to be perfect for us.”

  We lock eyes. “I’m sorry about this morning,” I say. “I want you to know that.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Madison. I just hate you’ve had so much anxiety since we moved here.”

  “In a lot of ways, what you went through explains why I fell in love with you. Why you’re guarded and thoughtful. But it’s not fair the people here were so cruel.”

  “It wasn’t just the people here. Celia’s mother was the worst.” He drains his drink and stares at the fireplace. “The woman had a lot of problems, which is why Celia lived with her aunt. She was in no position to raise a child.”

  “If they weren’t close, why was she so awful to you?” I understand she was Celia’s mother, but Coop makes it sound like parenting was more of an afterthought.

  “Her mother was the queen of revisionist history. Some people gravitate to drama. Raising a young child didn’t sound like much fun to her, but grieving the loss of a teenager? That gave her a much-desired spotlight.” He takes a sip of his drink, flipping his hand through the air. “I know that sounds harsh, but it’s hard for me not to hold a grudge considering everything she put me through.”

  “What did she do?”

  “Celia’s mother exaggerated everything already being said. She’d listen to anyone, as long as that person was against me. When chasing down the media didn’t work to her advantage, she became more reckless. She started visiting Whisper and vandalized the Gazette building downtown. Showed up drunk to my mother’s house. It became so intense we took out a restraining order against her.”

  “That’s terrible,” I say, squeezing Coop’s hand. He’s always been modest. It’s understandable why such public acts of ridicule would weigh on him.

  “That’s part of the reason my parents hired their own team to look into the case. If they co
uld prove Celia’s death was accidental, maybe her mother would stop harassing us.” He looks away, peeling back the layers of armor he’s built around the topic. “For a while, it worked. The last time I saw her was the worst. When I graduated college, Mom hosted a party at some Italian restaurant; it’s gone belly up since then, but it was the place to be back in the day. Anyway, everyone that was anyone in Whisper was there. Halfway through the night, Celia’s mom showed up and created a spectacle.”

  “Spectacle?”

  “She stumbled into the place and interrupted my mother’s speech, shouting, ‘He’s a liar,’ and ‘He’s a murderer.’ I’d never been so humiliated in my life. I can only imagine how my parents felt.”

  “What happened?”

  “The police were called. They arrested her, but my parents dropped the charges.”

  “Why?” I ask, slamming my glass against the counter. “It sounds like this woman deserved a punishment.”

  “She lost her daughter,” Coop says, looking away from me. “That’s punishment enough in one lifetime, even if she never deserved Celia in the first place.”

  I admire Coop’s willingness to forgive. It’s harder for me to hear these stories and feel empathy. I love Coop. I’d rather someone lash out against me than him. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  “I was so young then, still wrapped up in what others thought of me. What happened to Celia was a tragedy, but I didn’t cause it. Eventually, I realized I knew the truth and that’s all that mattered.” He pauses and smiles. “My family really stood by me through it all. They still do. At least I walked away knowing I’d always have someone in my corner.”

  I smile too, having found a greater appreciation for his family. They can be meddlesome, but at least they support him. “And she hasn’t bothered you since?”

  “It’s been years. Celia’s aunt doesn’t even live here anymore. The more time passes, the more the whole ordeal fades away.”