“You won’t be able to zip that dress,” Peyton/Grayson warned.
Riley threw them a side eye and headed for the brunch spread.
“Paul is mixing your smoothies. I’ll go check on them,” Holly told the rest. She did not need to get in the middle of a bevy of hungry bridesmaids.
When she returned with the smoothies, the florist was coming through the front door with Linus and boxes of bouquets between them. Upon seeing them, the bridal party descended like locusts.
“Morehydrangeas?”
“So pretty!”
“Which is mine?”
“Ooh, look at Sissy’s!”
The stylists rolled in at the same time, pulling unwieldy pink wheelie cases of tools and product.
Everyone was sipping smoothies and exclaiming over bouquetsand asking about makeup when a sudden shriek erupted from the upstairs landing. The lobby silenced. Everyone looked up.
Mrs. Sutton gripped the upstairs railing as she looked down on them. “She’s gone!”
“What do you meangone?” Mr. Sutton emerged from the chaos, a chocolate croissant in hand.
“Sissy’s not here,” Mrs. Sutton cried. “Her things are gone. Her room is empty!” At the wordempty, Mrs. Sutton burst into tears.
The grand finale took less than two hours. First, there was chaos.
Harold stomped out to the porch with his phone, then came back, then stomped out again. The bridesmaids sat vigil. The aunts and uncles were alerted, demolishing the buffet as they kept watch. “Best not to let it go to waste,” an aunt whispered to Holly, tearing into a scone. “What magic is this, by the way?” The stylists hovered uncertainly, alternating between huddling with their wheelie bags and pacing on their phones. When one wheeled by for the third time, Mrs. Sutton snapped, “Oh, for God’s sake, can somebody put them somewhere?” Holly sent them upstairs to the empty bridal suite. Everyone tried to reach Sissy. Mr. Sutton, who’d nearly worn a hole in the parquet, went out to the terrace to give it his best shot on the flagstone. He returned moments later, but Mrs. Sutton headed him off. There were words. Mrs. Sutton sailed away in a wailing fit to her room. A cousin followed.
In tones reserved for hospital corridors, utterances were exchanged between aunts and uncles and bridesmaids, anadult version of telephone. Harold remained slumped in a far corner.
“She’s not coming back, is she?” Holly whispered.
Linus nodded toward Harold. “And he already knows.”
Holly pulled Linus aside in the kitchen. “Check her socials. See what you can find.” She waited as he scrolled through.
“Oh no.” Linus held up his phone. The latest post by @savvysissy was a photo of a woman’s feet, wearing pearl strappy sandals, propped up on a dashboard. “Those are the Diors she wore last night.”
Holly grabbed his phone. “How do you know these things?”
“How do you not?” He pointed to the car dashboard. “Look!”
The view through the windshield was of a ferry landing. “She’s in Hyannis.”
“Was.” He pointed to the car dashboard. “Recognize it?”
The dashboard was unique, a deep forest-green color. The same color as Oliver’s late-model Ford truck. “Oh God. He’s with her.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“No, it’s his weekend off.” She raked her hands through her hair. “Maybe he’s not actually with her. Maybe he dropped her off and will be back Monday.”
Linus looked unconvinced. “Or maybe he’s poolside with Sissy on Nantucket now.”
“What do we do with the Suttons?” Holly hissed. “Feed them? Offer condolences?”
“Open the bar?” Linus suggested.
