Chapter One
Pepper
“You have cold feet. That’s totally normal,” my friend Nikki says, comforting me as best she can, but given the fact that my stomach is still clenched tighter than a fistful of knotted rope, I’m not sure it’s helping.
“I’m sure you’re right.” I inhale a deep breath and let it out slowly, attempting to bring myself back to center as she talks.
“If you don’t trust me, trust Google,” she continues, the sound of violins playing in the background of her call. I’m guessing she’s next to the gazebo, probably wandering in circles while my friends and family talk about the elaborate flower arrangements and how much money was spent on the live music.
My family is not the type that goes all out. We’re sixth-generation mountain folk, and we celebrate with fiddles, cast iron pots, and open barn doors.
I know it’s not for everyone, but I’d have been happy with a backyard wedding and a dress from the mercantile. I was there yesterday, and they had some really cute stuff on the sale rack that would’ve been perfect for today.
White, lacy, what else do I need?Apparently, a lot more because Nathan insisted on real porcelain china, fancy imported champagne, peony bouquets, and a live string quartet. He keeps saying he did it all for me, but we both know he wanted to showoff for his friends and family. I figured that much the day he insisted I wear a ten-thousand-dollar wedding dress.
Ten thousand dollars!
My mom needs ten thousand dollars so much right now. It would change her life. She could have home renovations that would restore her dignity, access to medication she can’t afford, or an appointment with a specialist that’s out of network, yet Nathan insisted the money be spent on a wedding gown.
It was a whole thing. We argued about it for days, and ultimately, I gave in because I was exhausted debating him and he insisted the dress was an investment in our future, that the story of our marriage is the most important story we’ll ever tell. He also agreed to give my mom two thousand dollars for the medicine she needs.
It’s insanity. Two thousand for medicine versus ten for a gown I’ll wear once. I can’t fight anymore. It’s his money, and it’s not completely devoid of heart… I guess.
Then again, maybe that’s more mental gymnastics. Who knows anymore? All I’m sure of is that this day has absolutely turned into a performance of Nathan’s stability and success.
Nikki clears her throat. “Okay, so Google says that pre-wedding jitters are extremely common and a normal part of the process. Do you have water and a snack? Maybe your blood sugar’s low. You’ve been under a ton of stress lately with your mom being sick and… are you eating enough?”
“I have a basket of cookies someone brought in this morning,” I say, glancing toward the hallway table where a few deliveries have been set. “I’ll have one and take a few deep breaths. I’ll be down in a few.”
“Take your time,” she says softly. “I’ll tell everyone you’re still getting your hair done. You’re the bride, so it’s your prerogative to be as late as your little heart desires.”
“Thanks, babe. Love you.”
“Love you more!”
Talking to Nikki always makes me think about how far back we go. Maybe it’s because I can’t remember a time without her. She’d moved to Rugged Mountain from the Springs in first grade, and while most kids our age carried cartoon lunch boxes, Nikki brought one with a NASA mission patch taped to the side. We were only six, but we bonded at the lunch table over our mutual love for space exploration and the possibility of alien life. She’s been one of my closest friends ever since, though we don’t talk space much these days. These days, we’re way too concerned with earthly issues, like work nonsense, family drama, and weddings.
Well,mywedding. The wedding I’m not sure I want to have anymore. The wedding I should’ve called off months ago.
I pace toward the solid oak buffet table and run my fingertips down over the crinkly cellophane wrap tied around the oversized wicker basket. I’m not sure who it’s from, but I’m thankful nonetheless. So thankful, it’s almost a shame to tear apart the pretty presentation. It’s perfect, and it reminds me of the way my mom would wrap cookies for church fundraisers when I was little.
Everything is reminding me of her today.
I tug at the ribbon, a wide satin bow, pink and cinched, the ends cut on an abstract, and the cellophane loosens with a soft, gentle sigh of sugar, butter, and chocolate.
I recognize the cookies immediately, which probably says I’ve been to Josie’s bakery on Main Street far too many times in my life. All the signature flavors are here. Chocolate chip, white chocolate chunk, strawberries and cream, double chocolate raspberry, rocky road, and the newest flavor she’s calling ‘picnic basket.’ I haven’t tried it yet, but it looks like an oatmeal cookie with dried fruit and nuts.
As I’m searching through the baked goods for the right ‘be a big girl and don’t run from your wedding’treat, I see a folded flower card.
‘Thank you for choosing our bakery for your special day! Enjoy! Xo Josie.’
This is the part of small-town living I love. I bet bakeries in New York City don’t deliver thank-you baskets to folks for ordering their cake with them. In fact, I bet they overcharge for less, and don’t bother with a thank you at all. That’s what happened to a friend of my cousin. She was so excited for her wedding in the Springs, but everything was so impersonal she spent the next year wishing she’d had the wedding at home.
I grab a chocolate chip cookie and stuff an oversized bite into my mouth, crumbs tumbling down the ten-thousand-dollar white satin highway and to the ground as I moan. Then I toss myself back into the winged chair overlooking the ceremony Nathan planned.
The inn is gorgeous and rustic, with a down-home charm I was excited for, which made me think we’d found a good compromise. He didn’t want a backyard wedding, and I didn’t want anything too fancy.
Six months later, I’m staring down at the fanciest wedding I’ve ever seen. Wooden white chairs, two separate arbors on either side of the aisle, both with soft fabric and hanging peonies, roses, and eucalyptus. It’s beautiful, but it’s not my style at all. In fact, there are servers in black and white weaving through the crowd with trays of champagne flutes and tiny little appetizers sat on napkins.
