Take On Me. Sarah Mayberry
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was why she almost missed seeing her uncle Gus standing out front of the church, frantically waving the driver on as they approached. At the last minute, however, as the car swept past the church, she registered the formally dressed man gyrating like a maniac on the sidewalk.
Swiveling in her seat, she craned her neck to look out the rear window and confirm it really was Gus, and that they really had driven straight past the church.
“Um…hello?” she said, leaning forward to tap on the glass dividing the back of the limo from the driver. “Wasn’t that the church back there?”
“Yeah, but we got waved on. I’m going to do a lap,” the driver explained.
Sadie sat back with a thump and stared first at Claudia and then Grace.
“What the hell?” she finally asked.
Both her friends were looking equally confused.
“Maybe they’re waiting on something,” Grace suggested.
Sadie bit her lip. A horrible, dark thought slithered into her mind and she tried not to look in its direction. It was useless, however—she worked on a daytime soap. She’d written or helped plot this scene too many times over the years. Happy bride, perfect day, laughter—then disaster. Dead groom. Groom gravely ill due to car accident. Revolt in groom’s far-off European principality—she’d done them all over the years.
“Can we go back, please?” she asked the driver anxiously. “I don’t want to do a lap of the church.”
“But—” the driver objected.
“You heard the bride. Turn the car around,” Claudia ordered, her producer’s voice firmly in place.
Sighing audibly, the driver spun the wheel and the car turned back toward the church.
As they approached from the opposite direction, Sadie could see her uncle had been joined by her pale-faced aunt, Martha. His shoulders were slumped and he shook his head as they discussed something intently.
“Oh shit,” she whispered under her breath. Another series of worst-case scenarios flitted across her mind: groom runs off with best friend. Bomb threat on church. Groom turns out to be bride’s secret brother.
“I know what you’re thinking, and I know it’s hard to rein in that imagination of yours because of what we do for a living, but this is not Ocean Boulevard,” Grace said firmly. “It’s probably something lame like the priest has had too much altar wine, or Greg’s allergic to his boutonniere.”
Sadie took a deep breath and forced herself to let go of the awful, over-the-top scenarios racing across her mind. Grace was right. She was overreacting. She wouldn’t go borrowing trouble—she’d simply face whatever was wrong and deal with it.
Her uncle must have heard the car, because he turned and frowned as the limo came to a halt.
Despite her vow to herself, Sadie leaned across Claudia to push the door open, unable to wait for the chauffeur to do it. Claudia slid out instantly, turning to help Sadie drag herself and her silk train from the car. The click of heels on the pavement told her that Grace was circling the car from the other side, but all Sadie’s attention was on Gus.
“What’s going on?” she asked. She was clutching her bouquet in a death grip, her knuckles white.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Gus said, and Sadie knew then, without a doubt, that she was about to have a Soap Wedding.
Behind her, she heard Grace’s swift, shocked intake of breath, and Claudia muttered a four-letter word.
“He’s not here?” Sadie guessed, taking a stab at which soap cliché she was about to get sucked into. Of course, she could rule out a few right from the start. To her knowledge, Greg was not the prince of some far-flung European country. And she was pretty sure he wasn’t her brother, given that he was the spitting image of his father. Also, her two best friends in all the world were standing behind her, so neither of them had run off with him.
“He had a note delivered,” Martha said, handing over a plain letter-size envelope.
Sadie stared down at it for a long moment before passing her bouquet to Grace. Her hands were trembling as she slid a finger beneath the seal and tore the envelope open. There was a single piece of paper inside. Greg had gone to the trouble of printing it, she saw, rather than writing it by hand. She had a flash of him mulling over the composition of the letter on his notebook computer, adding and deleting words as he pondered how best to break it to her. He obviously hadn’t mulled for too long, however. The note was devastatingly short.
Dear Sadie,
I know I’m the one who wanted to hurry, but you were right. It’s too soon to get married. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for everything. I just need some time to get my head together. Forward the bills as they come.
Yours, Greg
Her hand dropped to her side and she blinked back the storm of tears that was pressing against the backs of her eyes. That was it? He was dumping her at the altar, and she only got a handful of words?
“What did he say?” Claudia asked.
Sadie held out the letter. There was a short silence as Claudia and Grace read the note then passed it to her aunt and uncle.
“He never said anything, hinted at anything…?” Martha asked, bewildered.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Claudia’s head come up.
“You mean like, ‘Sadie, I don’t think I’m going to turn up tomorrow’? That kind of thing?” Claudia asked in a dangerously calm voice.
Sadie laid a hand on her arm. “Claud,” she said. This was not her aunt’s fault. She was a good woman who’d done her best to fill in the gaps in Sadie’s life when her parents were killed in a car accident seven years ago. Martha was blown away—as they all were.
“I can’t believe this,” Grace said, her eyes scanning over and over the few words on the note. “This is…unbelievable.”
Sadie lifted her eyes to contemplate the stately church in front of her.
Inside, more than two hundred of her and Greg’s friends and relatives were waiting to celebrate their wedding. The men would be in suits, the women in gorgeous-but-deadly designer high heels that they knew they’d regret by the time the reception was over. In their cars, presents would be sitting, wrapped and ready to put on the gift table once they arrived at the reception. Toasters, kettles, towels, glassware. The wherewithal to set up a new home. Her and Greg’s new home.
She hoped they’d all kept their receipts.
She clenched her hands together as a wave of humiliation and hurt threatened to descend. She wanted nothing more than to turn on her heel and get the hell out of here. To pretend that she had never been so foolish as to believe the words of handsome Greg Sinclair when he’d looked into her eyes and told her he adored her. That he wanted to marry her, as soon as possible. That he’d never felt more sure of anything in his life.
“Let’s go,” Claudia said decisively. She gestured toward the waiting car where the chauffeur was doing his best not to look too interested in what was going on. This would be a bit of a treat for him, Sadie reflected distractedly. A twist on the usual.
“Yes, your friend is right, sweetheart,” Gus said. “You go, and we’ll let everyone know that there’s been an incident, and the wedding’s been postponed.”
Sadie winced at her uncle’s choice of words. She knew he thought they’d save her face, but everyone in the church would know the truth. It was pretty damned obvious what had happened—the groom hadn’t shown up.
She could imagine them all whispering behind their order-of-service booklets while she stood outside trying to work out what to do. Why is it all taking so long? Where’s the groom? Shouldn’t he be waiting at the altar?