Page 42 of The One Before

“I’ve been trying to call you, but there are so many patchy areas entering Whisper Falls. There’s a ton of traffic leaving Knoxville,” she says when she answers, her voice breathy and rushed. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

“It’s no worry,” I reassure her. She’s right; reception is unreliable this far out in the country. “We’ve actually had a change of plans.”

“Oh, really?”

“Josephine won’t be joining us. She called about an hour ago complaining about stomach cramps.”

“That’s awful,” Anne says, but she doesn’t sound completely displeased. I wonder if, like me, she’d been dreading the addition of Josephine. “If you’d rather reschedule—”

“No, no. I’m happy to meet,” I say, eyeing the clock. “You’ve already driven so far. I hope the cakes haven’t spoiled.”

“They should be just fine,” she says. “And we have invitations! Be there in fifteen minutes.”

When she arrives, she doesn’t seem flustered at all. She’s carrying four boxes stacked atop one another. I love that Anne maintains poise even when she’s running behind; it gives me reassurance for the big day. She places the boxes on the kitchen counter, turns and sniffs the air. Her eyes catch the pot on the stove. “What’s this?”

“This might be our last meeting for a while. I thought I’d make you dinner, as a thank you.” Anne strikes me as the type of person who doesn’t like to make a big fuss of things, which is why I wanted to surprise her.

“That’s so kind.” She rolls up her sleeves and peers into the pot. “Now I feel worse for being late.”

“It still needs time to simmer. I’d thought we could get the planning stuff out of the way, eat and sample the cakes last.”

“Sounds delightful.” She walks into the dining room and takes a seat. “It’s a shame Josephine won’t be joining us.”

“More cake for us.” I force a laugh. “She thinks she might have suffered food poisoning, and to make matters worse, the food came from Nectar, Regina’s restaurant.”

“Oh, dear,” she says, pulling a package from her bag and placing it on the table. “Should we get started with invitations?”

“Oh, they’re here!” I hurriedly open the box, running my fingers over the perforated cardstock. All our details are in print: the date and time and location. This makes the wedding feel real, and immediate. “Anne, they’re gorgeous. Thank you for picking them up.”

“My pleasure,” she says, folding her hands on the table. “We can stuff them, then I’ll pop them in the mail on my way out of town.”

We organize our own assembly line. I stuff and seal, she stamps and addresses. The final guest list came in at just under sixty people, which mostly consists of Douglas family acquaintances. As we prepare the envelopes, we discuss the remaining details on our to-do list. Anne’s booked the band and placed an order with the florist. She’s rented a tent for the outdoor reception, too. As I imagine each element, my nerves flutter with anticipation. I can’t believe it’s all coming together. Only a few weeks ago, the idea of organizing this wedding seemed impossible.

“It’s going to be a wonderful day. I just know it,” I say, handing over the last of my invitations. “We’ve accomplished a lot in our short time together.”

Anne takes the stack of envelopes and taps them against the table. “Now that these are complete, all we have left is the cake.”

I check the time. Coop should be returning home soon. Anne thinks the meal I’ve prepared is the only surprise for tonight, but I’ve also asked Coop to join us for the dessert tasting. After all the work she’s put into the wedding, it’s important she meets the groom. “Let’s eat first.”

“I am famished,” she says, patting her hand against her stomach.

I bring the food to the table.

“This is really too much,” she says. “You’re the easiest client I’ve ever had. Half the decisions were already made.”

“You’ve helped me more than you know,” I say, folding my napkin in my lap. “I feel ready now. I mean, I’ve always known Coop was the right man, but the stress of the wedding and moving here took its toll. I’m in a much better place, and you’ve helped with that.”

My jovial demeanor drops when I see the look on Anne’s face. I’m not sure what I’ve said, but it must have been wrong. She looks different now, as though I’ve insulted her.

“Madison, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk with you about,” she says, her voice shaky and her eyes watery.

“Are you okay?” I reach across the table, placing my hand over hers. I’ve never seen her this emotional, even when she talked about her daughter.

Before she can answer, we’re both distracted by the sound of Coop’s car pulling into the driveway.

“What’s that?” asks Anne.

I smile. “It’s another surprise. You deserve to see the groom.” I hope introducing her to Coop will lift her spirits again, but instead she looks like she’s seen a ghost.

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