Val scribbled her own first name on a sticky label, as the bride-to-be hurried around greeting various wedding guests. So far, she had spied the girl from drama club, as well as the class president and someone she felt certain had once been prom queen.
The groom was nowhere in sight, though, and neither was Val’s fake boyfriend. The sound of the shower running had been the only answer she received when knocking on his door minutes before.
Would he keep his end of the bargain? she wondered. Envisioning a wild week of dodging make-believe stories and exaggerated details meant to build her image. As meanwhile, the quest to show her true self became buried in a sea of false impressions.
A hand gripped her arm; she glanced up to see Heather looking frazzled.
“Have you seen Jason?” her friend whispered. “One of his old buddies from the football team just arrived and I can’t find him anywhere. I swear, if he’s goofing off at the pool or–”
This was interrupted by the man in question strolling from the lobby’s second elevator. His fingers hastily knotting a tie, his button-down shirt and denim pants creating a causal look.
“Hey, babe.” He planted a kiss on Heather’s cheek. “Help me finish the knot, okay? I know you hate it when I get it crooked.”
Heather frowned as she untangled the clumsy loop. “Sweetie, I told you be down here early to help me greet everyone. And I also told you to dress formal and wear your nametag.”
Despite the pet name, her tone was sharp. Groaning, he rolled his eyes in Val’s direction. “Can you believe this? We’re not even married and she’s already running my life.”
But he was loving every moment, something that Val witnessed with a little knot of disappointment. It surprised her that Heather’s irritation was real, her mouth forming a tight line as she finished tying a perfect knot below his collar.
Wedding jitters? Or something more serious? It wasn't possible that Heather was having second thoughts about this whirlwind engagement –not with Jason's devotion practically radiating from his every look.
“There.” Heather patted his chest with a note of finality. “That’s taken care of. Now, let’s find your friend. Camden…Calvin…something like that.”
Dragging him towards the fountain display, she called to Val over her shoulder, “Sit next to us at dinner, okay? I’ll save seats for you and Riley. ”
Val stared after them, wondering if she only imagined the tension that lurked beneath the surface. A troubling thought, if it was only imagined, since it would mean her heart still had feelings for Jason after a ridiculously long absence. Her fingers trembled as she plastered the name tag across the bodice of her black cocktail dress.
“Valarie.” The woman across from her squinted to read the name. A tall, bony figure with a snake tattoo winding round her arm. “You were on the school newspaper, right?”
“The yearbook actually,” Val replied. Searching her memory for a similar association to pair with the figure before her. The only cue a nametag that read “Kimberly”.
“I was on cheer team,” the woman supplied. “Kimberly Wilkins–well back then it was Kimberly Sage. And will be again in a few weeks.” Eyes darkening, she added, “I’m getting divorced.”
“I’m sorry–” Val paused as someone came beside her.
She turned to find Riley, clean shaven in a blue blazer and matching tie. His tousled hair slightly damp, the aroma of aftershave drifting from his collar.
A flash of attraction washed over her like a shaft of sunlight. His brown eyes crinkled with an expectant smile as he glanced between her and the former classmate, as if assessing their relationship as the woman awaited the rest of Val’s statement.
“Oh, um…” she pressed her forehead, her eyes closing as if to block the moment out. When she reopened them, it was with enough composure to say, “Riley, this is my former classmate, Kimberly Wilkins–”
“Sage,” the divorcee reminded her. “Getting divorced,” she told Riley, with a pert smile.
“Wow, um, that’s too bad.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his schoolboy posture returning as he grew uncomfortable. A cute-but-dorky appeal that Val should have found easier to resist. So why did the warmth linger on her face?
“It was bound to happen.” Kimberly banished his sympathy with a hand that still sported a diamond stone. “Chad was a lifetime quitter. Every job, every relationship–” She blew a raspberry to sum it up.
“Chad?” Val’s brow furrowed, a spark of realization stirring with the name. “That’s not the same Chad– Chad Wilkins from–”
“The school football team. Yeah, it is.” She snorted. “Would you believe the star quarterback could turn out to be such a self-absorbed jerk?” She looked at Riley, as if she expected him to share in her disbelief.
Val detected a slight twitch at the corner of Riley’s mouth. An action he covered with a well-timed cough, his eyes meeting Val’s as if to include her in the dry humor. “You know, I’ve heard that nerds make better husband material than jocks?” he said. “I think it was a scientific study.”
This quip was lost on her classmate, but threatened Val's self-composure. Her dignity salvaged as the maitre d’ appeared to announce their group’s seating.
“That was rude,” she scolded in a whisper as they filed into the dining room.
“But impossible to resist. Humor is pretty much the only revenge my ilk has. We tend to be on the losing end, as you've seen.”
His tone was teasing, inviting her to be amused at his expense. Something in her emotions on this subject only confused her.
She turned away to focus on the spacious hall as they moved towards the dining tables. Burgundy walls and white crown molding, mini chandeliers were strung above the tables for ambiance, a corner platform serving as a stage for a grand piano and cello.
“Gorgeous isn’t it?” Heather seemed cheerier as they sat together at the head of the first long table. “This is the room for the reception, of course. We’re using the ballroom for the rehearsal dinner on Thursday.”
She paused as the waiter delivered their orders from a menu that emphasized haute cuisine. Tiny portions of elaborately prepared food, from which Val had chosen a mushroom and brie soup.
“This is…very chic.” Val felt certain the bride alone had chosen the wedding site, since Jason would have been happy with a beach and a tent for the reception.
Waving towards the dishware, Heather said, “This whole layout will be in Riedel Crystal for the post-wedding feast. We’re having a special French Burgundy for the toast.”
“Notice she picked the wine to match the paint color,” Jason teased, as he cut into a goose that was bathed in truffle sauce. “Everything with this girl is super coordinated. Which means she hates pretty much all my clothes.”
Ignoring this, Heather told her, “I’m still negotiating on the ivory damask cloths for the table. And, of course, I designed the place cards myself at work.”
“You’re a graphic artist?” Riley guessed.
“Greeting card designer,” she answered. “I work for this company called Landmarks. It’s pretty basic stuff–flowers and puppies, love birds for Valentine’s Day. ”
Her fiancée playfully nudged her elbow. “Don’t let her fool you–she’s great at her job. But I think she could write the messages inside too, considering her first-hand experience with fairytale romance.”
He means the note. This thought rose to Val's mind, although there was no evidence this was the reference point he intended. After all, he might be talking about Heather's real-life work.
“Not this again," Heather groaned. "Honey, you’ll bore everyone to death with that stupid story.”
“What story?” Riley’s dinner was forgotten in the wake of a colorful anecdote. It was too late to give him a warning kick, or even a glare to signal this subject should be dropped. The window had been opened for the groom’s favorite topic.
“We were classmates,” he began, “and Heather was the p
rettiest girl at Wardruff High. All these guys wanted to date her, but no one was brave enough to ask. Until I got this brilliant idea to write a love note–”
“Which I don’t remember getting,” she insisted. Her lips formed an exasperated smile as proof of how often she was forced to endure this tale.
“Anyway,” Jason continued, “I basically spilled my guts in this note. And she writes back with this incredible, mature response. How our love wasn’t ready to blossom, but that someday it would…”
Across from him, Val’s mind formed the rest of the message. Remembering her shaky hand as it guided the pen in a painstaking imitation of someone else’s handwriting. But not their feelings–those were all her own.
“It was perfect,” Jason laughed. “And pretty much the only reason I had the courage to pursue her all these years later. Of course, I had hoped that she would be ready before we graduated, but still... It's pretty amazing, to think those words would kind of predict our future.”
He broke off, eyes shining in Heather’s direction. A look of tender adoration that would melt any woman’s heart, or so it seemed to Val. Her own was beating a rapid pace as she considered the irony of it all, the fact she had practically been matchmaker for the guy of her dreams.
Their waiter returned, brandishing a pitcher of ice water. He re-filled Val’s empty glass, which she had consumed in an attempt to distract herself. Get a grip, she thought, sipping the cool beverage.
“You know what that story reminds me of?”
She froze mid-drink at the sound of Riley’s voice. Dread gripping her like a cold hand as he turned towards her with a helpful smile.
“That card you gave me for our anniversary,” he said. “The one with the lovebirds in the heart-shaped cage. That poem you wrote was incredible.”
No, no, no. The voice pounded in her head like tribal drums. A frenzied panic that grew faster with the confused looks on her friends’ faces.
“Anniversary?” said Jason. “How long have you guys been together?”
“Not long,” she answered, rushing to cover the error. “Just a few weeks really.”
“A month,” Riley said. “But it seems longer because we’re so in tune with each other. You could say it was love at first sight. I couldn't believe that this incredible, intelligent, attractive girl was totally single–”
Val’s hands crumpled her napkin, the urge to throttle him overwhelming. No sound had ever been more welcome than the trill of his cell phone a moment later. Her mind quickly formed a plea that it would be a call he couldn’t ignore.
“My boss,” he said, checking the screen. “I better take this.” He rose with a reluctant look, slipping past their table to the lobby.
Her glance followed him, something Heather misinterpreted for longing. Reaching over to squeeze her friend’s hand she teased, “Don’t worry. He’ll be back in time for dessert.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” she assured her. "He should definitely take his time." There was always the slim chance he would get lost and not be back for hours, thus saving her from further embarrassing stories.
What next–a rescue from a moving train?
*****
The faded love note was difficult to read in the lamp’s soft glow.
Curled on the bed in her hotel room, Val traced the familiar words with her finger. Was she crazy to think this somehow played a role in her current predicament? Maybe it didn’t matter who answered the original plea, as long as Heather genuinely returned his feelings now.
But does she?
An awful question to be asking just days before the ceremony. Her friend had always been fickle and afraid of being caught in anything too long. Val had seen similar situations countless times, while helping clients plan landmark events that threatened to ruin the actual reason for celebrating.
The need to protect Jason–to keep his heart from being broken–was just as strong as the moment she chose to answer the note in her hand. Maybe it would be best for her to go, before the urge to tell him the truth about that school note became too strong.
She jumped as knuckles wrapped against her door, followed by Riley’s voice.
“Hey, are you still awake? Because I wanted to apologize for what happened at dinner…”
Val quickly snapped off the bedside lamp. Holding her breath in the dark, as if afraid he would detect the sound through the wooden barrier. She had made of a point of avoiding him after his boss’ phone call, taking the opportunity to escape upstairs unnoticed.
“If you’re mad at me, I totally understand,” he continued, his voice muffled by the door. "It wasn't exactly my best story, I admit..."
His boyish features were easy to picture, the anxious note in his voice tugging her heart even as she wished he would go away. “Tomorrow will go better,” he promised. “I’ll make this up to you.”
She bit her lip to keep from saying this wouldn’t be necessary or even welcome. Arms hugging her knees as she watched his shadow move away from the door, his steps echoing softly down the hall.
CHAPTER TEN
“I’m just SO glad you’ve come. I’ve been needing some serious girl talk with all the chaos going on.”
Heather’s eyes peeked from a soothing clay mask, applied by the staff members for the hotel’s spa. A luxurious activity she had begged Val to share with her, the eight a.m. appointment leaving no time for breakfast.
Breakfast didn't matter; it was far more distressing that she had no chance to brief Riley on their next move. Which was mainly for him to remain quiet and nod along with anything she said.
Let him be a late sleeper, she thought, fingers crossing. To Heather, she said, “I think you’re doing a great job. I mean, everything seems to be running smoothly so far.”
“This ceremony is running me ragged,” Heather insisted, her head flopping back against the lounge chair. “Florists and caterers and performance bands. Look who I’m talking to–you juggle this kind of stuff for a living.”
“It can be a challenge,” Val agreed. Her own mask felt itchy, her fingers stained from touching the edges one too many times. “You sounded excited about it last night,” she reminded her. “About the reception and the special wine and crystal.”
More excited than she did about Jason's love story. She wondered how her friend escaped having it wound into their ceremony.
“There’s still four days to go, though,” Heather said. “I’ve got the rehearsal dinner and all these people coming in.” She sighed, a bridal magazine dangling from one hand. “I never should have let Jason talk me into this reunion thing for all our friends.”
“The reunion was Jason’s idea?” She had assumed it was a special touch of the bride’s. Even in their school days, Heather had been the bubbly one who loved a crowd. Renting a go-cart rink to celebrate passing her driver’s test, for instance.
Heather laughed. “Of course it was his idea. He thought it was a perfect tribute for our childhood connection.”
She flipped through the magazine restlessly, never pausing to study the articles. When she spoke again, it was to change the subject in a drastic manner. “Can you believe how many of our classmates are divorced?” No answer was expected apparently, since she didn't wait for it. “Half the people I invited are already on their second marriage. And a few others are separated or filing paperwork.”
“So?” Val asked. “That doesn’t have anything to do with you and Jason. If that’s what you’re thinking.”
This argument sounded hollow, possibly because she sensed the tension in Heather's tone. “You shouldn’t base your feelings on someone else’s experience,” she added, gently.
Heather flopped onto her back, a lifeless pose that struck Val as a tad too dramatic. “I know, I know,” she moaned. “I’m just getting cold feet or something.”
Giggling, she added, “You’ll keep me grounded, right? Don’t let me jilt him at the alter or anything.”
Val’s face paled beneath her mask. Her tongue on the v
erge of ordering Heather not to do it–her heart on the verge of hoping, strangely enough–when another classmate joined their row of lounge chairs. Andrea, the drama club enthusiast, her auburn hair wound into braids like the ones she had worn in the school’s Wizard of Oz play.
“Have I interrupted a secret meeting?” she asked. Her braids flicked aside as she placed raw cucumber slices over her closed eyes.
“We were just talking about relationships,” said the bride, “and how impossible they are.”
Winking at Val, she mouthed a silent ‘thanks’. Presumably for seeing her through another of her trademark fickle moments. Only this time it concerned something more important than changing a class or career.
“I know what you mean,” the other woman joked. “I’ve always assumed it was the man’s fault. Although,” she said, raising a cucumber slice to study Val, “I think you might have a keeper. Riley is really funny.”
A mental alarm bell touched off in Val’s head. Sitting half-way up, she clutched the front of her robe with quiet panic. “You’ve been talking with Riley?”
“Yeah,” Andrea said, settling back in her chair. “He was at breakfast a little while ago. You guys must have so much fun together.”
Did they? Val tried to imagine what possible lie he could have told to give that impression. The clay mask hiding a blush as she realized not all of it would have to be a untrue.
“I wish my boyfriend shared some of my hobbies,” Andrea lamented, ending part of her suspense. “He won’t even go the same movies, though. You’re so lucky.”
Heather seemed to agree, her nose crinkling in a playful smile. “Maybe you’ll be planning a wedding next. Better hold on to this just in case,” she said, extending the bridal magazine.
“No, thanks.” Val batted it away as if it were a fanged insect, not caring how weird her actions seemed. Glancing in Andrea’s direction again, she asked, “Do you know where my… where Riley went after breakfast?”
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