The Winter Wedding Plan--An unforgettable story of love, betrayal, and sisterhood

by Olivia Miles

  “I don’t want to put too much pressure on you, with a new baby and all that…” Kate looked uncertain, and Charlotte had to clench her teeth from blurting out that the income from the event company was all she had in this world, now that she’d gone through the loan their parents had given her, at an alarming rate, mind you. That there were no monthly stipends from Jake. That if anyone wanted to talk about pressure, it came in the form of the landlord breathing down her neck for November’s rent check.

  She forced a reassuring smile. “It’s no pressure at all! I’m eager to build up my resume, and I really enjoy the work, Kate.” Sure, it was a struggle to balance her schedule with Audrey at times. Her sitter wasn’t always available, and she didn’t have the funds for day care just yet, but she needed to work. And she wanted to work. To prove to herself that she could stick with something. And to prove to Kate—and everyone else at this table—that she wasn’t the girl she’d once been.

  “Well, next week is gearing up to be a tough one for me with two holiday parties and a fitting with my newest bridezilla. And I had hoped to finalize those floral arrangements…”

  “Finally!” Bree blurted, shaking her head. She grabbed another roll from the basket and added it to her plate, which consisted solely of mashed potatoes and squash. The salad she had brought sat untouched at the far end of the table.

  Kate eyed Charlotte, as if weighing her options. “All right, I’ll bring you in full-time through the month, starting Monday.”

  Monday morning. Charlotte hoped the panic she felt didn’t show in her face. She hadn’t expected to go into the office until Tuesday afternoon, as usual, and she knew that her sitter was currently away for the holiday weekend in Connecticut. She supposed she could call her anyway, but Lisa hated short notice—always charged more for it, too, savvy opportunist that she was.

  She squeezed the napkin in her lap, working through the logistics, and decided she had no alternative. Her mother still worked at the town library during the week. There was no one else to call on for a last-minute favor. And really, what choice did she have?

  “Monday morning it is, then,” she said, feeling her spirits lift at the thought of a steadier paycheck.

  “Wow, I feel like a load has been lifted from my shoulders already,” Kate said through a smile, and Charlotte felt her heart warm as it did every time her sister paid her a compliment.

  “Your turn, Kate,” Frank said, steering the conversation back to the holiday tradition.

  Kate reached over and slipped her hand onto Alec’s. “I’m grateful for second chances,” she said, and Charlotte found it hard to swallow the food she was chewing.

  A second chance. That’s what this was, all right. And she wasn’t about to blow it. Last Thanksgiving Charlotte had been pregnant and alone, in a dark and musty basement apartment in Boston, twisted with anxiety, wondering if she would ever again be welcome in her childhood home. And now she was about to ask to move back into it. To admit that her second attempt to swing it on her own wasn’t working out.

  She reached for her wineglass and allowed herself a sip—only because she wouldn’t be driving for a while. She’d stick around and help clean up after the rest of the family left. She’d explain to her parents that money was tight, and she wanted to build up her savings. She’d offer to pay a bit of rent, or help out around the house. Tidying up had never been her strong suit—that was more Kate’s area—but she could learn. Or at least, try.

  She set her wineglass down, wondering if it would be that easy. Or if they’d ask why Jake’s child support payments weren’t enough, given what he was worth, and where she was spending the money. Even if they didn’t say it, she knew they’d wonder if she was being irresponsible. The way she used to be.

  “What about you, Charlotte?” her mother asked.

  Her heart felt heavy as she considered her response. There were so many things she could say, but only one thing mattered, really. “I’m just grateful to be here.”

  No one said anything, but she knew that everyone at the table understood. It had been a rough year, for all of them in many ways, but this holiday, like Kate’s upcoming wedding, sparked a new beginning.

  She eyed her sister, thinking of the rough times they’d been through, and how far they’d come. Everything had fallen into place…well, for Kate. As for herself, Charlotte was almost there. Soon she’d be finished paying for her mistakes. She’d move back in. Save some money. And then…And then things would be better.

  “Since we’re all gathered together, we have some news to share.” Frank eyed Maura knowingly, and Charlotte shot her sister a look of alarm. No good news started with an announcement like that. Unless it was a marriage or a birth. And she very much doubted either of those were on the table for her parents.

  “As you know, Grandma Daniels hasn’t been doing well for a while,” her father continued, and Charlotte murmured her sympathy, feeling all at once like a heel for panicking. Of course. Her grandmother had struggled with her health for a while now. It had been a source of stress to her father, who, as the only child, was forever hopping on a plane to tend to her, or worrying about her from afar. Charlotte looked around the table, thinking it was a shame that Granny couldn’t have joined them today.

  She looked at her father, waiting for him to continue, wondering if he would announce that Granny was moving up to Rhode Island, to maybe live with them. She chewed her lip, selfishly wondering if that would impact her plans to move back in herself, but then decided that she and Audrey would just have to share her old bedroom while Granny took Kate’s. Not ideal, but what was anymore?

  “It’s been a tough decision, but…Well, there’s no easy way to say it. We’ve decided to move to Florida to be with her.”

  Silence fell over the room, and all that Charlotte could hear was the pounding of her own heart. She looked at her mother, then Kate, who seemed almost more bewildered than Charlotte herself felt.

  “The warm air is better for her, and she needs family right now.”

  Charlotte glanced at her baby daughter, who had only started to bond with her grandparents, and felt her eyes sting. She reached for her water glass with a shaking hand and brought it to her lips. There was nothing she could say. Nothing that wouldn’t sound completely selfish.

  “When do you plan to go?” Kate finally asked, breaking the silence.

  “Sunday,” her mother replied, and Charlotte nearly choked on the water. She coughed, and her mother slid her a strange look. “We’ve been talking about it for a while, and there just never seemed to be a good time to bring it up. It won’t be forever. We’re keeping the house—”

  Oh, sweet Heaven. Thank goodness for small blessings. Charlotte closed her eyes, slumping back in her chair, feeling her panic subside.

  “But we’re renting it out.”

  “Will you be able to find a renter at this time of year?” Kate asked. Everyone knew that Misty Point was a summer destination.

  Her mother looked to Ellen, and Charlotte felt another prickle of panic. Aunt Ellen was a real estate agent. And she’d clearly been let in on these plans long before everyone else had. “Thanks to my sister’s help, a couple came forward for a December first lease. We’d thought we’d go down south in January after the wedding, but, well, we decided to move up our plans!”

  The conversation seemed to go on and on, but Charlotte stopped listening. Her head felt murky and her heart was racing, but despite all the questions she had and all the confusion, one thing was very clear: she was in trouble. Again.

  Chapter Two

  Bree Callahan was a proud vegetarian. And a florist, by default. And, as of recently, a homeowner, by inheritance. She was also thirty-two years old and dangerously close to becoming a spinster.

  She wouldn’t feel that way if her prospects didn’t seem so bleak. In theory, she had time before her eggs dried up and her crow’s-feet took over. But Misty Point was small, and it wasn’t like she was leaving it anytime soon. She loved her ho
metown. She loved the cobblestone streets that ran through the quaint downtown lined with shops, and the smell of the salt water that lingered in the air, even now, when the first snow had already fallen. She loved that her family and friends were close by, and she loved her routine. Her life was simple. Perfect, really.

  So why was she standing in the front hall of her aunt and uncle’s beautiful home, blinking back tears as she gripped a plastic container of leftover stuffing (that she was emphatically informed hadn’t been stuffed in the bird) in both hands?

  “Are you on your way out, too?” Kate asked as she slid her feet into suede boots. “I think you’re parked behind us.”

  Us. A word so short and concise and yet so full of possibility.

  Bree managed a smile as she took her coat from her father, who would stick around for a while after the “kids” had left. Matt had been the first to leave, of course. He didn’t say where he was going, but then he rarely did. He was going to meet a woman, Bree was sure, but as with the others, he’d never bring her home to meet the family. The poor girl. Bree felt sorry for whoever it was.

  See, Bree? Better to be alone than led on by a man like your brother, right?

  She wished that thought was more comforting. Instead it just felt confusing and strange.

  So Matt was off, having his fun. Charlotte had left in a hurry, too, promising to come back on Sunday, the day her parents were moving. She was upset, Bree could tell, but did her best not to show it. Her smile was just a notch too bright, her eyes a tad too shiny. It made Bree sad in a way. Sometimes she missed the old Charlotte, who spoke her mind and was a little bit selfish in an endearing sort of way, and who didn’t always seem like she was holding back some secret.

  “We’re heading out, too,” Alec’s brother, William, called out. “You want to stop over for drinks?”

  “Sure!” Kate nodded her enthusiasm and, catching Bree’s eye, said, “Want to join us?”

  Us. Bree gave an apologetic smile as her mind spun to find a plausible excuse. Hanging out with two sets of lovebirds was hardly her idea of fun, even if Kate was her cousin and Elizabeth was a close friend.

  “I have to do some paperwork tonight,” she said, wondering how many times she could pull out that excuse. “Brunch this Saturday?” In other words: girl time.

  “I might have a fitting with one of my brides. I’ll double-check and get back to you tomorrow,” Kate said with a grin.

  And then they were off. Out the door. Walking along the snowy, slippery path toward the driveway. William and Elizabeth in front, holding hands. Kate and Alec just behind, arms linked through thick wool coats. And Bree. Trailing behind. Clutching a pile of leftovers.

  She managed to wave and smile and be downright cheerful as everyone went to their respective cars, and then, sweet relief, she was inside her own car. Alone.

  She turned on the radio. Blasted the heat. Checked her rearview mirror to make sure William had pulled away before shifting gears and backing out. The road was paved, the street empty, and lights glowed in windows from the houses on either side.

  It was a perfect late-fall night. Usually her favorite kind. But instead of feeling uplifted by a few hours spent with her favorite people, her heart was heavy at the prospect of going home to a dark, empty house that didn’t even feel like it belonged to her. It was her gran’s house, really. She had taken occupancy of it in September with the hope of starting over. But instead, she felt lost in all the rooms, like a visitor. Sometimes she missed her one-bedroom apartment that was walking distance to town.

  And she was feeling sorry for herself again…

  She knew it was foolish to be so upset right now, but she couldn’t help it. When Alec made that comment about her ever dating a carnivore, all her ethical resolve and strident stance on cage-free eggs and hunting for sport evaporated, and her mind was filled with the image of a square jaw, floppy brown hair, kind blue eyes, and, for some reason, wire-framed glasses. She had a thing for men in glasses.

  Simon had worn glasses. Good God, she was picturing Simon.

  She gave the rubber band on her wrist a quick snap. Sadly, she didn’t even flinch anymore. Instead, her skin was turning calloused from the number of times she thought of her ex. Physical evidence of the pathetic fact that she just wasn’t over him yet, despite the fact that he was well over her, and possibly hadn’t ever been all that interested to begin with.

  More like probably. Actually, more like certainly.

  But she…she’d adored him.

  Her grandmother had given her a harsh piece of advice when Bree was only twelve or thirteen. She could still remember where they were when she’d said it. They were in the flower shop, and Gran was pulling together a big bouquet for a twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Suddenly, she’d stopped what she was doing, turned to Bree, and said, “Relationships work best if the man loves the woman just this much more than she loves him.” She’d drawn her pointer finger close to her thumb to demonstrate the distance, careful to leave a one-inch gap. Bree had been indignant, claiming that was hardly fair. “Fair has nothing to do with it,” Gran had remarked. “It’s just the way love works.”

  Oh, Gran, Bree thought. She would have been so disappointed in her only granddaughter.

  She shuddered when she thought of the flowers she’d sent Simon on what would have been their one-year anniversary last month, two months after they had split up. She sent a dozen perfect red roses to his office, so she wouldn’t have to deliver them to his door.

  That’s right, Gran, you gave me your business, your home, and every bit of advice you’d ever saved up. And I went and sent a man flowers.

  She could almost hear her grandmother’s squawk of horror over her granddaughter doing such a thing. Or buying ridiculously expensive tickets to a hockey game under the guise of having spontaneously come into possession of them, as desperation disguised as a casual excuse to get together when said man hadn’t called in six days.

  Bree shuddered, imagining how the conversation would play out.

  “Flowers! Sent to a man!”

  “Not just any man, Gran. My ex-boyfriend. I sent him one dozen perfect red roses and then I sat clutching my phone and waited for three days to see if he would call to…” To what?

  “In all my days running that shop, I never once fulfilled such an outrageous request.”

  “But you’ll be proud of me, Gran.”

  A snort, followed by a hesitation.

  “I resisted calling his office to check up on the order. I could have.” In fact, she’d rehearsed the script. She’d call during the lunch break, when the usual gossipy receptionist whom Bree had always suspected had a thing for Simon took her lunch break, and old Hazel McClain, who had been the assistant to the founder of the law firm since it first opened its doors back in the forties, took over. Hazel was practically blind, didn’t know how to operate a computer, and had no interest in office drama, especially when half the time she couldn’t remember anyone’s names. She’d never remember that Simon, who was tucked away in patent law, far down the hall from the senior partner’s office that Hazel guarded, had just ceremoniously broken another girl’s heart. Or that this girl worked in a flower shop, namely, the one that was calling to check up on the order.

  Bree could hear Gran tsk her disapproval. “Flowers to a man.” She couldn’t stop muttering it. No doubt, if there was a bridge club in the afterlife, the entire club would be aghast in no time.

  “It was my birthday,” Bree protested, out loud. Because yeah, she talked to herself now, frequently, and had imaginary conversations with Gran. And sadly, Simon. “Thirty-two.” She cringed at the reminder. As if anything more needed to be said.

  “Thirty-two! At that age, I had six children and was already a widow,” Gran would have said, as she had been keen to point out every chance she had.

  Now Bree was gripping the steering wheel. Sure, it wasn’t conventional to send a seventy-dollar bouquet to your ex-boyfriend, but surely it couldn’t be
that shocking.

  She imagined Simon finding them on his desk. The surprise in his eyes. The expression when he read the card.

  The card! Dear God, she hadn’t considered that piece of hard evidence. Had it been passed around? Discovered in the trash by the gossipy receptionist? Oh my God, oh my God…

  She was thirty-two. She’d spent the better part of a year dating that man, dreaming of a future together.

  This was never how it was supposed to go.

  “My birthday wasn’t the happiest one, Gran. So you can understand why I freaked out. I…I snapped. I thought…” She didn’t frankly know what she’d been thinking. But she’d clearly had one too many glasses of pinot grigio.

  Gran was giving her one of those knowing looks, down the length of her nose, her gray eyes a little hooded, her mouth a thin line of complete disapproval. “You were thinking he may have had a change of heart. That he just needed a nudge.”

  Gran knew her so well. “Yes, Gran, that’s exactly what I had been hoping.”

  Pinched lips. Here it came. “Interested men don’t need a nudge, Bree.”

  No. They didn’t. And respectable women didn’t try to woo them, either.

  It been a lapse in judgment. A moment of crazy. Well, it wouldn’t happen again.

  Up ahead, William’s car was turning onto Thackeray Lane. Behind her, Alec’s would soon do the same. She could join them, of course. Forgo the imaginary paperwork and sit on Elizabeth’s lovely overstuffed slipcovered couch, complete with the chunky chenille throws in soft neutral colors and everything else that felt so adult and accomplished in comparison with Bree’s own meager belongings, most of which were handed down from good old Gran. There would be carols playing in the background from their surround-sound system. She’d have a glass of eggnog in one of the mugs Elizabeth had registered for. Christmas had officially launched now that Thanksgiving was behind them.