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“Look, Wyatt,” I say in a serious tone, “everything I do and say is for a reason, not because I want to make your time here difficult,” I explain.
“I don’t think you’re being difficult,” Wyatt says, surprised.
“You will, and when you do, just know it’s not because I enjoy making people cry or feel bad about themselves; so, unless you do something stupid, which I hope you don’t, that’s not my intention.”
“You’ve been here a long time.” It’s not a question, and I track her eyes to the plaque behind me.
“I have,” I say, leaning back in my chair.
“I trust that you know what you’re doing,” Wyatt says.
9
IT’S A FAMILY NAME
My Favorite Mistake by Sheryl Crow
“Hurry up!” I yell down the hall. “We’re going to be late.”
Noelle wheels her bag across the tile and we both head out to the garage, flinging our luggage in the back seat like two college girls heading off for Spring break. It’s nearly four-thirty p.m. and it’ll take at least forty minutes to get to the hotel. Beth is gonna be pissed because the rehearsal dinner starts at five p.m.
“Don’t speed,” Noelle reminds as she buckles her seatbelt.
“I don’t speed,” I scoff.
Noelle chuckles, shaking her head.
“Did you remember your dress?” I ask before backing all the way out of the driveway.
“Of course,” she says.
Checking my mirror, I make sure my bridesmaid dress is still in its bag, draped over the backseat.
“Georgie is meeting us there later,” I remind Noelle.
Noelle groans.
“What?” I ask, signaling to merge onto the freeway. “You like Georgie,” I remind her.
“This is going to be an interesting weekend,” Noelle says, settling further into the seat and pulling her phone out while I laugh.
Between my family, Laura’s family, rehearsal dinners, and wedding preparations, Noelle is right. This will be an interesting weekend.
Forty-five minutes later I pull up to the resort using the circular driveway and stop under the portico. The valet takes my keys, and another man grabs the luggage from the backseat while we hurry into the lobby. For a moment, I stop to admire the rich reds and browns of the velvety couches and chairs that match the colors of the surrounding mountains. A picture of a cowboy hangs above the fireplace and antlers adorn the walls, giving it a warm mountain lodge feel.
“Where is the Saguaro banquet hall?” I ask, “for the Kennedy/Corvin rehearsal dinner?” Looking at my watch, I realize we’re now almost fifteen minutes late.
“I’m gonna need you to run interference with Aunt Beth,” I say to Noelle. “You know, bat those big blue eyes at her and she’ll forget how late we are.”
Noelle shakes her head at me.
“The rehearsal dinner is in the private dining room of the Compass restaurant on the property,” the clerk says, handing me a map and pointing to the restaurant nestled into the side of the mountain.
“I’ll have your bags taken to your room.” She hands me our room card, and Noelle and I rush through a courtyard and down a long hallway in the direction of the restaurant.
My heels click on the polished flooring until we hit the hallway lined with an antique looking rug. My father stands outside the restaurant, looking relieved to see us. He’s a large man in his seventies with silver hair, blue eyes, and looks quite dapper in his dark suit, but his tie looks like it’s from the seventies.
“Grandpa,” Noelle says, being engulfed into a hug once we reach him.
