The Wrong Bridesmaid

The dawn breaks, and I roll out of bed having caught maybe an hour of sleep, two if you count that half-asleep, half-awake state you get into where you know you can hear the wind blowing outside your window, but at the same time, an hour feels like five minutes, and five minutes feels like an hour behind your closed eyelids.

I’m a little surprised to find Hazel in the kitchen, setting up cakes and small cupcakes on trays. I smile when I recognize the ones I helped with and feel a sense of pride until I see a guy helping her. He’s a few years younger than me, with dark hair and eyes, and his short-sleeve shirt must be different from his usual because the tan line around his muscled bicep flashes as he moves the cakes.

Jealousy burns hot in an instant at their camaraderie and Hazel’s easy laugh with him when he wipes icing on her nose.

I go in to introduce myself, and interrupt them. “Hey, guys, you two look busy. Can I offer you a hand?”

The guy gives me a once-over and grins as he holds his hand up, showing a glob of icing and then pointedly licking his finger salaciously. “Don’t you have something to do? Like play a round of golf or get your hair done?”

Hazel glares at him, communicating something I don’t understand, and he grins. “Jesse. Pleasure to meet you.”

He didn’t give a last name. Smart man, but in a town this size, I could find him.

“Wyatt. Nice to meet you too.” Both of us are lying through our teeth about that one. “Seriously, can I do anything? I helped make these cupcakes, so the least I can do is help set them out.”

Jesse’s eyes narrow. And for whatever reason, I feel like we’re now in a dick-measuring contest. “You helped make them?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” I reply evenly. “That a problem?”

“When was that?”

I grin. “When Hazel took me to the bakery after hours one night.”

Jesse looks from me to Hazel, accusation in his eyes. I can’t help but feel a bit smug. “You took him to the bakery?”

“We got all the toppings and half the cupcakes ready for the Candied Nut Cups,” she argues back.

Jesse looks unimpressed. “Mom know you had a Ford in there?”

The fuck? Is my family that hated in this town?

But then something else he said registers.

“Mom?” I ask, and Hazel backhands Jesse’s arm.

“Way to go, jerk,” she snaps as Jesse shrugs, uncaring. She sighs and points at him. “Wyatt, this is my clueless brother, Jesse.”

I laugh softly, and offer a real handshake this time. “Gotta admit, it’s better to meet you now that I know you’re Hazel’s brother.”

Jesse’s laugh is a little darker. “See if you feel that way after I tell Mom you were in her baby.”

My eyes jump open and Hazel hisses. “Jesse!”

Jesse smirks triumphantly. “I meant the bakery, not you, but thanks for the confirmation.”

Hazel’s slap this time is more like a punch in the chest, and she puts some pop on it too. “I haven’t fucked him! And even if I did, it’s none of your business.”

“Seriously? A Ford, and you think I wouldn’t care?” Jesse asks. “Or Mom or Aunt Etta?”

“Aunt Etta and Mom know. And while you’re all Ford-this and Ford-that, do I need to remind you who signs your paychecks?” She pauses, then steamrolls ahead: “Jed Ford. Remember that?”

I feel like my brain’s in a blender with all this new information. “Wait. You work for my uncle?”

Jesse scoffs. “Most of the town works for him in one way or another. Might as well rename this fucking place Jedburg. Or Fordville.”

I grunt, unable to argue with his assessment.

“Don’t mean we like the fucker, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Well, we can agree on that, at least,” I tell him. There’s a short silence, an acknowledged truce, and I decide to push my luck, willing to risk Jed hearing about my snooping for insight from a new source outside my family. “What’re your thoughts on the new-subdivision thing?”

“Hard to say. It’s above my pay grade, and it’ll keep us all working, which is a good thing,” Jesse says. “But to get it started, it’s going to fuck over the residents out there now. And once it’s done, it’s probably gonna fuck up the whole town.”

“How so?” I ask, surprised by his frankness.

Jesse shrugs. “One hand, it’ll drive up rents. You think I can handle my rent being doubled because some hipster from out of town wants to overpay? And there’d be lots of folks moving in, not caring about the way we do things or how things have always been.”

“You mentioned the people there now?” I ask, and Jesse nods.

“That’s what the rezoning hearing is for,” Jesse says, looking at me like I should already know this.

“I’ve been gone for a long time,” I explain, “out of touch with my family and what’s been happening here. I feel like I’m playing catch-up.”

“Look, there are about five homesteads out there where Jed wants to build the subdivision. They’re all zoned farming because those folks have worked the small plots for decades. For the subdivision to break ground, it has to be rezoned for single-family use and permits for development of the amenities center.”

Damn. “What happens to the people and their farms?”

“They’ll be forced out for their land,” Jesse says, giving me a strange look. “Sure, they’ll be compensated, but some of them would rather keep their land. Not to mention I figure they won’t get the amount they deserve. The surrounding folks will end up moving out soon enough, too, because the property taxes for the whole area will go up once the subdivision is built. Expanding out will probably be phase two or something. Really will be Jedburg at that point, because let’s be real, he ain’t gonna let the town be named Ford-anything. Folks might get confused and think it’s to honor your dad or some shit on account of him being the beloved mayor up till now. Jed’d want his name front and center.”

“Well, shit,” I mutter, not knowing what else to say. Jesse is joking about it, but I wouldn’t put something like that past Uncle Jed. Nor am I surprised at what else he’s been up to.

We’re silent for a few minutes, all of us putting desserts on the trays. For my part, I’m mulling this new information over. Uncle Jed really is going big and might fuck over the whole town. Or at least change the town’s feel.

“I’m gonna check in with Mom. See if she needs any help out in the tent,” Jesse says when the tray he’s been working on is full.

He leaves and Hazel looks at me thoughtfully. “You really didn’t know?”

“First I knew about the subdivision was driving back into town.”

Hazel tilts her head, examining me for any untruth. “I believe you. Is there anything you can do to help?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I need to talk to Winston, but today isn’t the day for that.”

We finish the rest of the trays, and as Jesse takes the last one out, Hazel checks the clock on the oven. “It’s a busy day and we need to go get ready.”

“Just one thing,” I interject, stepping close enough to feel her heat and inhale the faint smell of vanilla on her. Before she can argue, I press my lips to hers in a quick kiss. A tiny, teasing taste for both of us. I pull back, grinning. “I’ll see you at the end of the aisle.”

Her answering shuddered breath lets me know that she’s just as affected by my closeness as I am by hers. But that reassurance turns to laughter when she growls, “Asshole,” as I leave the kitchen.

I go upstairs and take a shower, thinking about what Hazel and Jesse told me. I know Uncle Jed has big plans, he always does. But throwing people off their land, out of their homes, is taking it too far, even for him. The protest signs make a lot more sense now.

What is Jed thinking? Money, I’m sure. If I had to make a bet, he’s only thinking about the money.

But Cold Springs is so much more than that. Dad’s worries make a lot more sense now too.

If he’s the mayor who leads the city-council vote to rezone land, which results in constituents being essentially kicked off their properties, he’ll be booted out of office in the next election for sure.

Being mayor means everything to Dad, and losing that would destroy him.

I think back to before everything went wrong, back to when Dad was always smiling at ribbon-cutting ceremonies and giving speeches at Francine Lockewood’s library events about city history. I may not know what’s going on now, but I know one thing . . . Dad loves this town, which is why this is so confusing. He has personally supported Little League teams, delivered warm soup and blankets to elderly citizens during snowstorms, and planted trees in the city park to honor a guy who died overseas. He bleeds Cold Springs. Jesse called him “the beloved mayor,” which isn’t an exaggeration. Until now.

But if there’s one thing that we’ve been taught, it’s that family comes first. And while Dad might be the older of the two brothers, Jed has always been the more powerful and more conniving of the two.

With age, I can see that Dad and Jed have always been day and night. I replay stories I’ve heard of their younger days . . . of Dad serving on student council and Jed leading a coup against the teachers, arguing that homework was unconstitutional, of Dad being prom king and Jed being the football quarterback, of Dad shaking hands after a quiet entrance and Jed strutting into every room like he owned the place. One, studious, kind, and well liked. The other, a charming, manipulative life of the party. The perfect yin and yang, a complementary team. But they diverged—Dad into public service and Jed into self-service. Until Jed’s big plan of rezoning. And I wonder again: How did he rope Dad into this?

I’m lucky that my younger brother is nothing like Jed, especially given that he’s been under his influence these last few years. I don’t know what I’d do if Winston were remotely like Jed. But I’m guessing drinking a little too much to cope would be the least of it.

I get ready, dressed in my suit from Mrs. Hinsley. I’m still not sure it was worth all the awkward measuring in my underwear, but I can give it to her. It’s fitted to perfection.

Downstairs again, I find Dad, Winston, and Uncle Jed in the living room, all three with a glass of scotch. “A little early for celebrating, isn’t it? Or are we squashing nerves?”

Winston turns to me, holding his glass up. “No second thoughts here. I’m ready to do this before Avery starts thinking with ‘the good brain God gave her,’ as Grandpa Joe says.”

Jed guffaws. “That pretty little thing is lucky you’re marrying her, not the other way around.”

“Jed!” Dad protests. “For fuck’s sake, the boy’s about to walk down the aisle.”

Interesting. Dad was telling Winston he deserved everything, and now he’s calling out Jed for basically saying the same thing, albeit a bit more crudely. I guess even Dad has limits.

Jed takes a sip of his drink, unflustered. “Just speaking the truth, and we all know it.”

Winston shakes his head. “I’m the lucky one. That’s what I know.”

It’s the smallest disagreement, but it’s telling about where Winston’s loyalties lie. He’s solidly with Avery, first and foremost. I’m glad because that’s exactly where they should be.

“Good for you, boy,” Jed says sarcastically, on the verge of condescending. “Guess I’d better get out there before the fun starts.”

He swallows the rest of his scotch in one gulp and heads out the back door. Dad, Winston, and I silently watch as he walks toward the crowd of people already sitting in the rows of white chairs. Jed waves at everyone like he’s the guest of honor, shaking hands and smiling wide as he makes his way toward the front of the groom’s-side seating.

“Does he know what an asshole he is, or is he truly oblivious?” I ask. Dad sighs heavily, but Winston raises his brows, letting me silently know his answer.

Cara’s assistant pops her head around the corner. “Gentlemen, are you ready? The photographer has done all the photos of the ladies and wants to do yours before we set up for first looks.”

Winston smiles dreamily and I tease, “You imagining Avery in her dress or out of it?”

He throws a quick backhand to my chest. “Watch it. That’s my wife you’re talking about, asshole.”

“Wife to be,” I correct, though I’m smiling now, too, glad that I’m here to see Winston marry Avery.

“We really need to hurry,” the assistant says, bidding us to follow her quick footsteps to the front door.

Outside, we find Cara bossing the photographer around. “You have ten minutes to get the shots on the list. If they’re not listening, you let me know and I’ll handle them.”

I look to Winston and Dad, who are wearing matching expressions of surprise. I suspect my brows are equally high on my forehead. Out of the side of his mouth, Dad says quietly, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not scared of her, but I’m gonna say cheese and stand where I’m told. I suggest you two do the same so she doesn’t tell your mother that we were difficult.”

“You scared of Mom?” I question.

Dad glances at me before nodding. “Hell yes.” To Winston, he adds, “And if you’re half as smart as I think you are, you’ll pay Avery the same respect. A little fear can be a healthy thing.”

Before I can question what else Dad might be afraid of, Cara directs us to stand on the front steps and Wren appears from somewhere, joining us as the photographer begins snapping away. We’ve taken a few shots when I hear a voice call out, “Hey, Mayor Bill, you got a minute?”

Our eyes follow the sound, and I see a small group of people standing outside the closed gate.

“Seriously?” Dad mutters. “Right now?”

Cara snarls, “I’ll take care of this.”

“No, let me.” Dad sighs. “Better for me to handle it before Jed gets wind that they’re here.” And with that decided, he straightens his back and heads over to the fence. I see him greet the men outside the fence with handshakes and begin talking. It doesn’t look friendly exactly, but it seems civil at least.

Winston whispers, “Protesters at my wedding better not be a bad omen.”

“Could be worse. It could be a pitchfork-carrying mob, out for your head.” I place a heavy hand on his shoulder, reassuring him, a moment before Cara snaps her fingers.

“Perfect! Tell me you got that.” Turning to the photographer, I see that he’s been snapping away at our brotherly conversation and is nodding at Cara. “Good. Let’s set up for the first look.”

The assistant squeaks and runs for the side door, presumably to get Avery.

“You two. Best man and groomswoman . . . wait in the foyer for further instruction.”

I wait until Cara spins before throwing her a haphazard salute. Winston snorts at my antics, but covers it with a cough. I offer him two thumbs-up of good luck—not with his bride, but with his wedding planner—and then go inside with Wren as ordered.

A few moments later, Dad joins us. “Everything okay out there?” I venture hopefully.

Dad clenches his jaw and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I’m trying to . . .” He drifts off, shaking his head. “Hey, Maria?” he calls.

“Sí?” she answers, appearing instantly.

“Can you take a few snacks and coffee out front? Quietly and discreetly.”

Dad’s feeding the protesters? What the hell?

I don’t get to question it because the door opens and Winston comes inside with Cara’s assistant. “You’re looking a little red-eyed there, man,” I tease gently. “Avery call the whole thing off?”

Winston swipes at his eyes, laughing lightly as I’d hoped. “Shut up, fucker. She looks . . . I don’t know . . . just . . . wow,” he breathes.

“I think that’s exactly the reaction Avery was hoping for,” Wren says with delight.

Dad hands Winston a handkerchief, and along with it, a warm look passes between them.

“It’s time,” Cara’s assistant says, directing us to follow her once again.

The garden looks a lot like it did yesterday, but with the volume turned up to eleven. The normally emerald rich bluegrass is now playing second fiddle to rows of white wooden folding chairs, the central aisle bedecked in white roses and silk that stretch all the way to the front row.

The wooden arch, which was empty before, is now covered in gobs of flowers, so many they must’ve emptied entire fields of roses just for the archway alone, adding that final touch of over-the-top fanciness to the whole damn thing.

Walking up the aisle ahead of Winston, I see that the crowd’s ready. But to be honest, I barely pay attention until the bridesmaids start their procession.

“Down, big brother,” Wren murmurs when it’s Hazel’s turn, and I can see exactly what she means. I thought she looked pretty yesterday? Today she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her dress caresses and highlights her voluptuous body, her hair is pinned up to show her graceful neck, and delicate drop earrings make me long to kiss her ears. I have to subtly pinch my thigh to keep myself from crossing the aisle to claim her right here in front of the entire crowd.

Hazel sees my reaction, and gives me a self-satisfied smirk before turning to take her place at the altar. Rachel follows, blocking part of my view as she takes the maid of honor position . . . and then I’m even more frustrated when Avery hogs up the entire view in her big white dress. Okay, okay, you’re the bride and I’m sure Winston’s pitching a tent for you . . . but you’re not the woman I want to see.

“We ah gaathaaaad,” the minister says, and I do a double take.

“What the hell?” I whisper to Wren, who’s standing next to me. “This isn’t the guy from yesterday.”

“Slipped at home last night,” she whispers back. “Broke his leg. Cara almost blew a gasket this morning.”

“So she hired . . . this guy?”

“Actually, I found him,” Wren corrects with a wicked smile, but she shushes me before I can ask what she was thinking.

Actually, once I get used to his accent, it’s a sweet, emotional ceremony. Although hearing Pentatonix’s “Rose Gold,” the song that was playing on their first date, is even more ridiculous when a middle-aged man with a thick Boston accent starts talking about true legends never dying and standing the test of time.

Everything’s pretty, but there’s some stuff that’s definitely Cara, I’m guessing. Like the rosemary and lavender woven into the wooden arch. It’s a pretty detail, smells nice, and the herbs are old-school good-luck wedding symbols.

All good, but then there’s the woo-woo stuff too. Like passing the rings around to the entire audience to have them “warm them with positive vibes and thoughts,” which seems like a security risk given the rock Winston bought Avery, but Avery looks near tears as she watches each person close their eyes and whisper over the rings.

“I give yah Mistah and Missus Winstahn and Avery Faaahd!” the minister declares at the end, and even Wren has to bite her tongue hard at that one. Winston and Avery don’t care, though. They’re joyous as they kiss deeply. And when they start their recession, they’re almost dancing down the aisle.

Now it’s time for me to offer my elbow and walk down the aisle with the maid of honor. It’s what I’m expected to do. Rachel’s looking at me with a big smile on her face, but I can’t. I don’t want to.

“Follow my lead,” I whisper quickly to Wren.

Of course she’s confused. “What?”

I don’t explain. I don’t repeat myself.

Instead, I take the few steps across to the middle of the archway, feeling Rachel’s eyes light up as she steps forward. But I move past her, my eyes locked on Hazel, and offer her my elbow.