“Weddings and parties,” he said when he returned. “That’s sort of a timely topic because I’m moving into that field myself.”
“Oh, you mean as a bartender?” I was surprised he wasn’t already doing some of that work on the side.
“No, as a photographer. I’ve had cameras ever since I was a kid, from little plastic things to Nikons. A couple of years ago I started looking for jobs I could do when I wasn’t tending bar. A friend asked me to take some headshots for a book jacket, and he loved them. A couple of other friends asked me to take pictures for their Christmas cards. And word kind of spread. I’ve been buying more equipment, and I started doing weddings this summer. So far, it’s going pretty well. I haven’t had time to think about a website, but that’s next on the list. Maybe in a few years I’ll be able to stop bartending and become a full-time photographer.”
“That would be nice. There’s nothing like doing what you really love.”
“Can I give you my card?”
“Uh, sure. But like I said, I’ve got a corporate job now. I don’t do private events anymore except an occasional thing for a friend. Plus, I’m in Chicago. That might be a little far for you to travel.”
“Oh, right. I forgot. Yeah, that would be a little far.”
He removed some wineglasses from a dishwasher and put a cocktail shaker in the sink. “It’s kind of funny—I mean funny-peculiar—that you’re an event planner and your sister’s getting married, but you’re not planning her wedding. And you’re not even going.”
I finished my Riesling and set the glass on the bar. “It’s just as well. If I were in charge of her wedding, I’d probably think of a million ways to ruin it.”
“Sounds like a good title for a book—A Million Ways to Ruin a Wedding.”
“Yeah, well, I could definitely write that one.”
A man at the end of the bar raised a hand, and Jerome went to take his order. I looked at my empty glass and began thinking about all the ways I could ruin a wedding if I really wanted to. Anybody’s wedding. Even my sister’s. If I really wanted to. But I wouldn’t. That would be a little crazy. Besides, I didn’t even know what she’d planned for the big day. Although whatever it was, I was sure I could unravel it. It wouldn’t be hard. But I’d never do that. The whole idea was too far out there. Even for me. The one whose boyfriend Mariel had stolen. The one who couldn’t go back to LA because she was there with Carter. The one whose life she’d ruined.
I ordered another glass of wine and looked around, studying the people in the restaurant as the place began to fill up. But I couldn’t get the sabotage idea out of my mind. Maybe it was worth a little more consideration, just as a what-if. Just for the sake of argument.
Okay, then, if I was really going to unravel my sister’s wedding plans, what would I do? Tinker with the music for the ceremony? Sure. Change the transportation plan so people would arrive late? Of course. Hide the wedding rings? Absolutely. Or substitute some costume jewelry. I could revise the playlist for the reception, revamp the seating arrangements, and hide the box after people put all the cards and checks in it. And that was just off the top of my head. I could even work on getting Carter back, so rather than wasting my energy feeling sorry for myself, I’d be proactive. I’d be doing something. The thought of it made me sit up a little straighter.
But hold on. This was crazy. Even if I wanted to ruin Mariel’s wedding, how would I figure out who the vendors were, the contacts, what the timetable was, the details? I’d have to try to break into her computer. Or Mom’s. Although Mom’s was easy. She still used that same old password with our birthdays in it. I could go over to the house when they were out, get into her computer; maybe there was even a paper file around with copies of the contracts and…
“Here you go,” Jerome said. He placed another glass of wine in front of me.
I took a long sip. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.”
“What’s not a bad idea?”
I leaned in and lowered my voice. “A million ways to ruin a wedding. I could do it to my sister.”
“Oh my God,” he said, taking a step back. “You’re serious.”
Chapter 6
A Good Feeling
Is Hard to Ignore
The first thing I did the next morning was e-mail my boss to tell her I had to stay in Connecticut for a couple of weeks. I figured that wouldn’t be a problem, because she’d been expecting me to be out for a while, and with my phone and laptop and planners I could work from almost anywhere. Sitting at the banquette in my room at the inn, I called the front desk and extended my stay. The sabotage plan was on. I just needed to figure out the details. And to do that, I had to have information.
The wedding ceremony was being held at St. John’s Church in Hampstead at four o’clock a week from Saturday, with the reception taking place afterward at the Hampstead Country Club. I knew that because it was on the invitation and response card I’d thrown out the day they arrived. Beyond that, however, I didn’t have a clue. I needed names and contact information for the vendors. I needed to know who was in the bridal party and what music was being played. I needed the guest list and the seating chart and the dinner menu. I needed to know who, what, when, and where for every minute of that day in order to determine the best way to attack it.
And I needed some supplies, like a notebook for jotting everything down and a flash drive for copying anything wedding-related I might find when I broke into Mom’s and Mariel’s computers. I thought about the gift shop downstairs and decided to check it out.
The shop was called This and That and it consisted of one bright, cheery room with large windows, whitewashed floors, and walls covered in pale green ivy-patterned paper. The office supplies were limited, but they did have a few spiral notebooks, and I got the last flash drive on the shelf.
As I was heading to the checkout counter, an object on a table caught my eye—a snow globe with two horses and a red barn inside. The bay and buckskin looked just like Two’s Company and Crackerjack, the ponies Mariel and I had had as kids. Something about that scene tugged at my heart, and I found myself picking up the snow globe, shaking it, and watching the flakes fall. I’d just placed it on the checkout counter along with the notebook and flash drive when I heard a familiar voice.
“Okay, tell him to send it to me and I’ll take a look. I think that could work.”
David. I thought he’d gone back to New York City.
“Yeah, have him e-mail me the photos.” His phone pressed to his ear, he made his way toward the table where I’d just been standing. “We could try to get a variance, but I think it’s going to be an uphill battle.”
Real estate talk. I wasn’t interested in that. I wanted to know what was going on with the hand.
“No, I’ve gotten delayed,” he said. “But I’ll be back in the office in a day or two. In the meantime, maybe you could…”
He walked across the room, out of earshot. But I kept an eye on him and when I saw him put away his phone, I approached him. He seemed surprised to see me, but he didn’t seem angry. That was good.