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It took Susan a split-second to fix her face. “I trust Sam, too, of course. I’m just surprised you didn’t want to get a full night of sleep. That’s all.”
“She was too excited,” Christine pointed out. “I understand that all too well.”
“Let’s just relax, drink some champagne, and enjoy this day,” Amanda said. “I’m so glad all of you are here to support me. I don’t know what I would have done without you these past few years. You’ve been my rock.”
Silence fell over the group as they drank. For a moment, everyone seemed too emotional to speak. But Audrey, never one to allow a dull second to pass, jumped to action, setting up a speaker to play some of her and Amanda’s favorite tunes. “What a Girl Wants” by Christina Aguilera played first, and Audrey picked up her hairbrush and began to sing with her eyes closed. She was nowhere close to hitting Christina’s notes.
“Is this the bride’s suite?” A woman with bright green hair peeked her head through the door.
Amanda laughed and waved her in. “Jamey! Hi! Welcome!”
Jamey was the hairstylist Amanda had decided on for the wedding. Jamey had brought two of her hairstylist friends, Connie and Barbara, who followed into the suite after her and began to set themselves up along the long desk of the room. Their bags were stuffed with supplies like hair rollers, hairspray, gel, creams, hair straighteners, hot curlers, and other stuff Amanda couldn’t identify. They’d also brought with them a cloud of scents, as though wherever they went, they brought the smell of the salon with them.
“Amanda, let’s get started,” Jamey ordered, pointing at a chair. “We don’t have as long as you’d think.”
Amanda hopped toward Jamey, where she set her champagne flute on the desk. Jamey whipped a black bib around her entire body, then set to work on what they’d agreed on: a half-up, half-down ‘do with gorgeous, shining curls and bangs. Because Amanda’s hair had gotten unruly in the bang department, Jamey spritzed her hair with water and gave Amanda a trim. Amanda watched her dark curls cascade to the ground.
“We saw Kelli on the way up here,” Christine said, refilling her and Lola’s champagne flutes. “She looked super stressed.”
Lola nodded. “I thought she was about to burst into tears.”
Susan made a face. “I hope she’s not in over her head.”
“Did you hear about her second-in-command?” Audrey said, in full gossip-mode.
“No? What happened?” Susan asked.
“Apparently, she had to fire her,” Audrey said. “The cops came and said they’d learned she was part of a big ring of island thieves.”
“Island thieves?” Susan’s jaw dropped. “I haven’t heard anything about that. And you would have thought I’d have at least a few of them as clients.”
Audrey shrugged. “I don’t think they’ve caught many of them yet. Kelli’s second-in-command was the tip of the iceberg. They’re hoping Piper will clue them in on who else is involved.”
“Goodness,” Amanda breathed.
“Anyway. I think that’s why Kelli is running around so frantically. She’s lost a big part of her staff, and she’s not sure how to proceed,” Audrey said.
“Too bad the groom is a hotel manager as well,” Christine said. “If he wasn’t so busy with other tasks today, he might be able to help out.”
“Don’t let Sam know that,” Amanda said. “He’s too helpful. He’ll miss half the wedding, just trying to keep Kelli above water.”
Everyone laughed, knowing the goodness of Sam’s heart. Lola sipped her champagne and nearly spat it up again, saying, “Sorry. I’m just imagining Sam in his perfect tuxedo behind the hotel’s front desk, saying, ‘One more minute, Amanda! I’ll be right there!’ As you’re waiting to cut the cake.”
Amanda threw her head back with laughter, and Jamey swatted her. “Hey! I’m in the middle of giving you a bridal look!”
“Sorry!” Amanda winced and straightened her head.
Very soon after, Amanda’s two best friends from Newark, Brittany and Brooke, arrived. They were enthusiastic, breaking out another bottle of champagne and gossiping with Amanda about the other friends Amanda had invited to the wedding, all of whom they’d been friends with back in her old life. It was still bizarre for Amanda to think of these people as parts of her past. All of them had known Amanda to be Chris’ long-term girlfriend— all of them had been at the last wedding and witnessed her defeat.
Still, she knew they were happy for her. She knew they were cheering her on.
Around one, guests for the wedding began to arrive at the Aquinnah Cliffside Overlook Hotel for one and a half hours of a cocktail and hors d’oeuvre pre-wedding meet-and-greet. It was a glorious seventy-five-degree day, and guests spilled out across the veranda and the lush grounds, sipping cocktails and glasses of wine as a Vineyard sunlight burst in and out of fluffy, cartoon clouds. From the top of the staircase, Amanda, who was in curlers and halfway-done makeup, peered down at her guests, watching as they laughed and chatted, all in luxurious summertime clothes— dresses and suits and even hats, women’s jewelry glinting from necks and wrists and ears. It blew Amanda away that so many people saw her wedding as a time to see and be seen. It was one of the social events of the summer, and it wasn’t even summer yet.
“Are you spying?” Audrey sidled up to her, her hair also raised in curlers and her champagne flute in her hand.
“Something like that.”
“Once the day starts, these people won’t be able to get enough of you,” Audrey reminded her. “Just an hour or two till showtime.”
