The Wedding March. Tara Randel
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could look a little more excited, Cassandra,” Robert spoke from the corner of his mouth. “Even when you were a child I never could get you to smile.”
Pasting on a fake grin, Cassie returned with, “Better?”
Flashes of light blinded her as the photographer snapped pictures, but she continued to hold her smile. Before long, Angelica joined in. One big happy family.
As soon as the photographer signaled he was finished, Cassie beelined to the ladies’ room to compose herself.
Compose. Hah. Like she needed to be reminded that she should be in California writing music for her next album, not a couple thousand miles away in Florida, at a wedding she would have missed if her sister hadn’t cajoled her into coming.
“It wouldn’t matter where I am,” she said under her breath as she stood before the wide restroom mirror hanging on the wall over a bank of gleaming sinks. She was having trouble coming up with new music. To be honest, her lack of inspiration scared her. This next project would make or break her career and so far...nothing.
Keep at it, sweetheart. One day you’ll get better.
Her first pop album had been a surprise commercial success. At twenty-three, she’d made a name in the industry with her haunting melodies, her soul-stirring lyrics, her clear voice. Her writing, so pure then, had come from the depths of her soul. Critics had called her work natural and her style heartfelt. The label, thrilled by the interest in their new artist, pushed her back into the studio right away. Caught up in the whirlwind, she went along with the plan to start a second project.
But the label had wanted her to work with new producers, make her music more trendy, they told her. More dance style than ballads and songs with deep conviction, like those on her first record. This time, the music sounded nothing like she’d intended. The process was arduous. There were too many people telling her what to do and how to sound. Because she was so new at this, she went along with the voices of experience. Her manager wanted to please the label. As a result, her second album had tanked.
Could she now be a has-been at twenty-six?
The door opened, drawing Cassie from her morose thoughts. She nodded to a woman dressed in a designer gown, saturated in a cloying floral perfume. Cassie patted her hair again, at a loss as to what else to do. She couldn’t play with her braid since her hair was all curled up around her head and she’d left her clutch at the table so she didn’t have any gloss to touch up her lips with. With a sigh, she stood, staring at her image.
Was she a two-record wonder?
Would her next project be a disaster, too? She knew she should stop thinking like a failure before she even got started, but after the release and disappointment of album number two, she’d lost her mojo. The critics demanded to know what happened to the genuine songstress they’d admired so much, and to be honest, so did Cassie. She’d disliked the music of her sophomore effort. She wanted, no, needed, to get back to basics. She was tired of second-guessing her talent. Fearful of failing again. She hadn’t told a soul, but all the stress had produced a serious case of writer’s block.
She couldn’t write a thing.
And she had to be back in the studio in less than three months.
Keep at it, sweetheart. One day you’ll get better.
The woman came to the sink, eyeing Cassie.
“You’re Robert’s daughter. The musical one.”
She nearly laughed out loud. Right now, she could debate that claim. “That’s me.”
“We’re thrilled to have a man of your father’s prestige as part of our community.”
“I’m so happy for you.”
The woman sent a startled glance at Cassie, not sure what to make of her reply.
“See you on the dance floor,” Cassie said, returning to her assigned table, more than ready to eat dinner and make her escape.
Across the room, a string quartet and a harpist played soft background music. Before the meal began, Angelica stood, a sparkling tiara nestled in her platinum blond hair pulled back in a tight chignon, her makeup flawless, her white dress covered with glittering seed pearls. She tapped her champagne flute with a spoon and smiled as silence descended upon the room.
“Thank you so much, my dear family and friends, for joining Robert and me on our special day. I am so pleased that Robert’s daughters, Cassandra and Lauren, are here to share our happiness.”
Cassie ground her back teeth together. Cassie. My name is Cassie.
“I’ve asked Lauren to make a toast.” She waved her new stepdaughter to her side. “And Cassandra? Please, join us.”
Cassie took her glass and walked over to her new stepmother. Just as Lauren was about to speak, Robert rose and worked his way to her side. He nodded and Lauren began.
“I’ve been so excited for this day to come. Angelica is such a warm and loving woman, just the right person to make my father happy. My sister and I—” she looked over at Cassie. Cassie held up her glass “—are honored to have been raised by such a wonderful father. We thank him for all he’s given us and look forward to what the future brings in his marriage and our lives together.” She lifted her glass. “To Robert and Angelica.”
“To Robert and Angelica,” echoed the guests.
As everyone took their seats, the steady hum of conversation filled the room as dinner was served. Classical music started up again, a quiet backdrop to the festivities.
Cassie leaned into her sister. “Laying it on a bit thick, sis?”
Lauren narrowed her eyes. “I meant every word.”
“Really? The part about Dad—”
Lauren cleared her throat.
“—excuse me, Father, raising us? Please, he was never home and then after the split, he couldn’t get away from Mom and us fast enough.”
“That’s not how I remember it.” Lauren straightened her shoulders and looked away from Cassie.
“Oh, really? Did he make it to your first soccer game?”
“No.”
“Your high school graduation?”
“No.”
“College?”
Silence.
“The day you were honored at work as the first woman in your firm to receive the outstanding employee award?”
Lauren pressed her lips together.
“Yeah. Me, neither. Not my musical recitals or band performances.”
Her sister glared at her. “Just because he missed a few milestones doesn’t make him a bad father. He’s here now.”
A few? Cassie had a list. “Yes, but for how long?”
“Just because you were stubborn and didn’t make contact with him after your first album doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”
“Oh, he cares. As long as it benefits him.”
Cassie hadn’t heard from her father for years until her first album became popular. He called, texted, enlisted Lauren to try to make Cassie return his attempts to reach her. Why, when he didn’t have time for her before she gained popularity, would she reconnect with him now? Her loyalty remained with the mother who’d raised Cassie and her sister after he left, working two jobs and keeping a loving, stable home for her daughters.
“Let’s not argue,” Lauren said, reaching out to take her hand. “Not today.”
With a sigh, Cassie took her sister’s hand in hers. She loved Lauren dearly. Just because her sister was blinded by their father’s charm didn’t