Chapter One

“I’ve decided to elope.”

“You are not going to elope.”

“Yes, I am. Jake and I will go someplace in the Himalayas. We’ll take days to hike in. We’ll be married by a hermit in a cave.”

“I don’t think hermits do weddings,” Stephanie said. “Lucy, do you know if Buddhist hermits conduct weddings?”

“I don’t even know if Buddhists have official hermits,” I said.

“Harrumph,” said the bride-to-be.

“I know it all seems difficult now, Josie,” I said. “But when the day arrives, everything is going to be marvelous. You’ve got a great guy, and you’re a pretty great person yourself.”

My cousin sighed. “Aside from the part about me, you’re right, Lucy. As always.”

“I’m always right too,” Grace said, and we all laughed.

We were on the deck of Josie’s parents’ beach house in Nags Head, North Carolina, planning her forthcoming wedding. Josie’s mom, my Aunt Ellen, had gone into the kitchen to put together the fixings for a sandwich lunch. In her mother’s absence, Josie had announced that she’d decided not to go through with the wedding after all.

“You’d break your mother’s heart,” Grace said. “No wedding for her only daughter?”

“Never mind Aunt Ellen,” I said, “you’d break my mother’s heart. No chance to spend a weekend in New York searching for a new dress.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Josie said. “About Aunt Suzanne, I mean. She doesn’t need an excuse to spend a shopping weekend in New York.”

“That’s true enough.” I closed the magazine on the table in front of me. “To avoid complications, and thus elopements, why don’t we coordinate our colors and leave it at that. No need for matching bridesmaids’ dresses.”

“I’m good with that,” Steph said. Grace nodded in agreement.

“Blue,” I said.

“Green,” Steph said.

“Yellow,” Grace said.

Josie threw up her hands.

“Yellow isn’t exactly a winter color,” I said.

“True,” Grace said, “but I look good in yellow.”

“You look good in everything,” Josie said. “Which is why I hate you.”

We all laughed. Josie, currently dressed in torn jeans and a baggy T-shirt, face scrubbed clean, hair in a wind-tangled mess, is no slouch in the looks department.

“Let’s wear black,” Steph said. “It’s winter. It’s an evening wedding. Everyone looks good in black. Josie will be in white, so she’ll stand out.”

“Josie’d stand out in a paper bag,” I said.

“She would definitely stand out in a paper bag,” Steph said. And we all laughed again.

“Thanks, guys,” Josie said. “With your help, I might actually get through this.”

I put my hand on hers. “That’s why we’re here.”

She smiled at me.

“Remember, everyone,” Grace said. “Small and simple is our mantra.”

“Small, simple, and perfect in every way,” I said.

“Ready for lunch?” Aunt Ellen eased open the sliding door with one hand and a jutting hip while the other hand balanced a tray piled high with sandwich fixings and a pitcher of tea clinking with ice. I leapt to help her and grabbed the wobbling jug.

“I know it’s stressful.” Ellen put the tray on the table. “That’s because you want everything to be perfect, honey. And it will be. Even if the occasional little thing goes wrong, no one will notice.” She took her seat.

Josie smiled at her mother and piled ham onto her sliced baguette. We all dug in.

“I hope the weather’s as nice on your wedding day as this.” I leaned back in my chair, nibbled on my sandwich, and looked out over the beach. It was early January in the Outer Banks, but unseasonably warm. No one was brave enough to attempt a swim, but people walked barefoot through the surf. Gulls circled overhead and sandpipers darted in and out of the waves. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the ocean rose and fell in calm, gentle swells. On the deck, out of the wind, we were comfortable in sweaters and woolen throws.

“A sunny day would be nice for the pictures,” Ellen said. “But otherwise we’re weatherproof. Compared to some of my friends’ daughters’ weddings, we’re pretty much good to go. The church is booked, the dinner is out of our hands. Lucy, the cake?”

“All taken care of. I’ve ordered an arrangement of cupcakes in three flavors, French vanilla, carrot, and chocolate fudge, like Josie wanted.” Josie had wanted to make her cake herself, but I’d managed to convince her that she’d have enough to do in the days leading up to her wedding. She’d finally given in and provided me with the name of a baker friend of hers in Kill Devil Hills whom she referred customers to if she couldn’t accommodate them at her own bakery.

“We need to plan flowers for the church and the table settings at the restaurant,” Ellen said. “You three sort out your dresses. And that’s about it.”

“Have you got your dress, Ellen?” Grace asked.

“I’ve had it for months. It cost far more than I planned on spending, and when Amos saw the price tag, I thought he was going to have a heart attack on the spot.” She smiled. “But it’s worth every penny.”

“How many guests are we expecting?” Steph asked.

“About eighty. Almost everyone we invited has accepted.”

Small and simple was what Josie and her fiancé, Jake Greenblatt, wanted, and small and simple was what we were determined my cousin’s wedding would be. They didn’t want to spend a lot of money; they didn’t want a lot of gifts. They only wanted to celebrate their love in the presence of their closest friends and family.

Fortunately, the mother of the bride, Aunt Ellen, was on board with that. Jake, the groom, was the owner and head chef at Jake’s Seafood Bar, a restaurant in Nags Head. The reception would be held at the restaurant, and he and his staff would handle all the details of the food and drinks. That took an enormous burden off Josie and her bridesmaids: me, Stephanie, and Grace. Josie’s cousin from her father’s side, Mirabelle, was also going to be a bridesmaid, but she lived in Louisiana and I hadn’t met her yet.

“You’re wise not to worry about matching bridesmaids’ dresses,” Aunt Ellen said. “You have your own individual taste, and I trust each of you to make the perfect choice. So there’s no reason, dear, for you to run away to the mountains.”

I hid a grin as I glanced at the kitchen window, open to let in the soft breeze. Like most mothers, Aunt Ellen always knows what’s going on in her house, even when she isn’t supposed to be in hearing range.

Josie leaned over and gave her mother an enthusiastic embrace. The rest of us leapt to our feet and gathered around for a group hug.

When we were seated once again and enjoying our lunch, Steph said, “I’m thinking of a beach wedding.”

Even Aunt Ellen squealed.

“You’re getting married!”

“When?”

“Did Butch propose?”

“Calm down, everyone,” Steph laughed. “I’m talking when I get married. If ever I do. I have absolutely no plans for that at the moment. I think an outdoor wedding is nice. And here”—she waved her hand to encompass the beach spread out below us, stretching off into the distance in both directions—“is the perfect place. Weather permitting, of course. I’ve been to some pretty soggy outdoor weddings.”

“I like a winter wedding,” I said. “My oldest brother got married in January at a resort at Lake Placid. It was absolutely magical with the freshly fallen snow. The bride wore a dress in winter white. The sleeves were trimmed with fake fur and she had a big furry hood. It was so beautiful.”

“About all I remember of that wedding,” Aunt Ellen said, “is freezing my extremities off standing outside while they took the blasted pictures, and then being close to busting into flames inside that crowded room for the reception. Something about the furnace not working properly, I recall.”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “That. And the frilly pink dress I was forced to wear as a bridesmaid. She never did like me.”

“How’s their divorce coming along?” Aunt Ellen asked.

“It seems to be off. At least for now. I suspect substantial sums of money were mentioned as an incentive to keep her in the family.”

“Poor Amos.” Aunt Ellen smiled at the thought of her husband. “He just about died in New York in January. I overheard him several times muttering something about not knowing how human beings can live at those temperatures.”

Uncle Amos is originally from Louisiana. To him, North Carolina is as far north as any civilized person should venture.

“Didn’t my dad talk him into trying cross-country skiing?” I asked.

“Don’t remind her,” Josie said. “I went with them. I enjoyed it, but I didn’t know Dad knew so many bad words.”

We laughed.

“Believe me,” said Stephanie, who is Uncle Amos’s law partner, “he knows plenty.”

I reached for the pad of paper in front of me. One of my jobs was to coordinate everything. “Let’s remind everyone of their tasks. Once assigned, Josie doesn’t have to think about it again.”

“That sounds good to me,” Josie said.

“Grace, you said you’d do the flowers?”

“I’ve been collecting mason jars, and my mom’s asking all her friends to give her their extras. I’ll tie silver ribbon around the jars and fill them with flowers. Nothing expensive, as y’all keep saying. Large jars for the church and small ones for the restaurant tables.”

“Steph. The signature cocktail for when people arrive at the reception.”

“You can count on Butch and me to spend the next month making and tasting samples. Butch says it’s a tough job but someone has to do it. I got two big old-fashioned punch bowls at the charity shop, and that’s what we’re going to use. We’ll have a nonalcoholic option as well.”

“Aunt Ellen. The toast.”

“We’ve found a very nice, not too expensive sparkling wine from Washington State that will do the trick perfectly.”

“Josie,” I said. “You have one job and one job only.”

“To show up on the day,” Steph said.

“Other than that. The dress. When are you going to get your dress? Time is running out. The wedding’s less than a month away.”

“I know, I know. But we’ve been busier at the bakery since Christmas than I expected. Then Alison got sick, so I’m shorthanded out front, and …”

“And on it goes,” Grace said. “The ideal time will never arrive. Pick a day. Now. We’ll put it on our calendars.”

“Not this week,” Steph said. “I’m in court, and that’ll probably last most of the week.” She pulled out her phone and checked her calendar. “Then the following Monday, I’ve a deposition to make …”

“Pick a date, Josie,” I said. “Those of us who are free to accompany you will do so.”

“Okay, okay. I have to check the calendar at the bakery first. I’ll do that tomorrow and send you a text.”

“If I haven’t heard from you by the time I open the library in the morning, I’ll call to remind you,” I said.

“You still don’t want to go to Raleigh, dear?” Aunt Ellen said.

Josie shook her head. “Heidi got a perfectly nice dress at that shop in Kill Devil Hills. At a good price too. So that’s fine for me.”

Keeping the cost of the wedding down was important to Josie and Jake. They owned their own businesses—Jake’s restaurant and Josie’s bakery. Both sets of parents had helped their children get their start, and Josie had told them that was enough. She and Jake wanted to pay for their wedding themselves.

“About a bridal shower,” Aunt Ellen said. “There’s still time to organize one.”

“No shower,” Josie said firmly. “Jake and I don’t need silly frivolities, and I’m not the sort to wear a funny hat. I don’t have the time anyway.”

“As you like, honey.”

I read the disappointment on Aunt Ellen’s face. “Maybe something small,” I said. “An afternoon tea. I can make sandwiches and a few desserts. Something for your circle of friends, Aunt Ellen, so they can congratulate the bride.”

“I guess that’d be okay,” Josie said. Aunt Ellen gave me a grateful smile.

“I can help with the desserts,” Grace said.

“You don’t want me to bake, believe me,” Steph said.

“I’ll host it,” I said. “We can have the shower at the lighthouse. We’ll do it next Sunday afternoon when the library’s closed. At this time of year, it won’t matter about short notice. People don’t have a lot on. Aunt Ellen, you work up the guest list, and we can send the invitations by email.”

“As Steph said, we don’t want her to bake,” Josie said. “You guys do the sandwiches and I’ll provide a dessert tray.”

“No!” we shouted. “You’re the guest of honor. You can’t be working for your own party.”

“It’s no trouble for me to whip up a few extra squares and tarts on Sunday morning,” Josie said. “As I’m baking anyway.”

“You’re not going in to work the day of your shower?” Aunt Ellen said.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I? I’ll leave the bakery in time to go home and change. I promise you, I’ll look respectable enough for your friends, Mom.”

“In that case,” Steph said, “as I’m relieved of baking duties, I’ll provide sparkling wine for a toast.”

“We have plenty of party glasses at the library, and I’ll buy fancy decorated paper plates and napkins,” I said.

Inside the house, the phone rang. Ellen got up and hurried to answer it.

I checked my list. “Anything else?”

“Sounds like all’s under control,” Steph said.

“I take back what I said about eloping,” Josie said. “You are so great to do this.”

“Of course we’re great,” Grace said. “Because we love you.”

Aunt Ellen came back outside, her face set into a tight line.

“Is something wrong, Mom?” Josie asked.

“Not wrong as in the impending arrival of the zombie apocalypse, but …” Her voice trailed off.

“But?” we chorused.

“That was your grandma calling, honey.” Ellen meant Uncle Amos’s mother. Josie’s and my maternal grandmother had died some years ago. “She and … uh … an unspecified rest of the girls are at the New Orleans airport about to catch a flight.”

“Not to Raleigh, I hope,” Josie said.

“I’m afraid so. Gloria thinks the wedding plans are not progressing fast enough. She is bringing, and I quote, ‘a suitcase full of wedding magazines.’ ”

“Shoot me now.” Josie groaned and put her head in her hands.