Chapter 2 - The Questions That Wouldn't Stop
I'd slept at my father's house the night before, partly because it was close to the church and partly because some sentimental corner of me wanted to wake up in my childhood bedroom one last time.
I lay under the faded blue quilt my mother stitched for me when I was sixteen and stared at the ceiling cracks I'd memorized as a kid.
Downstairs, cabinet doors were opening and closing.
Then Sabrina's voice floated up the stairwell.
"Ray, are you honestly sure Nora's ready for this?"
I sat up.
Dad said something I couldn't make out.
"I'm just saying it's all moved very fast. They haven't even been engaged a full year."
"They've been together four years," Dad said. "Nothing about this is sudden."
"Marriage changes people."
"So does having every choice you make picked apart."
Sabrina laughed like he'd told a joke.
"I'm worried about her, that's all. And I still don't understand why control of the bakery has to change the minute she gets married."
I went completely still.
Dad's voice dropped. "Because that's how Diane set it up. Nora marries or turns thirty, and the bakery is hers to run. I've told you this."
"You've told me almost nothing. What about the other properties?"
"I don't know every detail."
"How do you not know? You worked there twenty-five years."
"Because they were Diane's, not mine."
"You have to know what they're worth."
"Not today, Sabrina." His voice went flat and hard. "My daughter gets married in a few hours. I am not standing in my kitchen talking about her inheritance."
Quiet.
Then, tight: "Fine. I was only trying to understand."
I frowned at the door.
We'd had a wedding date on the calendar for nine months. Sabrina had known that whole time that my marriage would trigger the trust. But that morning she didn't sound curious. She sounded like she was running out of time.
What I didn't know — not yet — was that two days earlier, Sabrina had listened in while my father was on the phone with Judith Barrera.
Judith had reminded him that the moment she had a certified copy of my marriage certificate, she'd start transferring control of the bakery and hand me a full accounting of the trust.
Until that call, Sabrina had assumed the transfer was still years off. She'd also assumed my father had a lot more power over all of it than he actually did.
I wouldn't understand any of that until later that day.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Caleb.
"You're not allowed to call the bride," I said.
"I checked the rulebook. It only says I can't see you."
"Convenient."
"Extremely. How are you doing?"
"Fine."
He waited a beat. "Nora."
"What?"
"That's the exact voice you use when you're not fine."
I smiled in spite of everything. "I'm just nervous."
"About marrying me?"
"About getting through the day."
"Ah. Sabrina."
I glanced at the door again. "She's downstairs right now wondering out loud whether I'm mature enough to get married."
"She's been wondering that out loud since the night we got engaged."
"She second-guesses everything I do."
"Then don't hand her opinions any power today," Caleb said. "She can think whatever she wants. She doesn't get a vote."
I let out a long breath. "You'll be there when I walk in?"
"I'll be the nervous guy at the front pretending he isn't watching the door every five seconds."
"You won't bolt?"
"Not if the building's on fire."
"Please don't say that on our wedding day."
"Good call. No fires. No disasters. Just you, me, and an unreasonable number of white flowers."
I laughed, and the knot in my chest loosened a little.
"I love you."
"Love you too. I'll see you at the altar."
Downstairs, Sabrina was at the kitchen island slicing a grapefruit into perfect even wedges. Her pale gold dress was already pressed, her blond hair set in smooth waves. She looked like she was getting ready for a photo shoot, not a stepdaughter's wedding.
"Well," she said brightly. "There she is."
"Morning."
"Nervous?"
"Excited."
She watched me pour coffee. "You know, men like Caleb tend to go looking for stability when they settle down."
I set the pot down slowly. "Meaning what?"
"Nothing awful. He grew up without much. You've got a family business about to land in your lap. It's only reasonable to wonder whether that played a part."
"Caleb proposed before I ever told him the trust activates when we marry."
"If you say so."
"I do."
She lifted one shoulder. "I'm only trying to look out for you."
"No. You're trying to get under my skin an hour before my wedding."
Her pleasant face pulled tight.
Before she could fire back, my father came in with his suit jacket over his arm. When he saw me, everything about him softened.
"There's my girl." He crossed the kitchen and kissed my forehead. "You're going to be beautiful today."
"Thanks, Dad."
His eyes went far away for a second. "Your mother would have been so proud."
Sabrina drove her knife through the grapefruit hard enough to split the rind.
My phone lit up with a text from my best friend, Nadia.
Outside. If you are not in this car in two minutes I'm coming in, and I am not emotionally equipped to handle Sabrina before breakfast.
I grabbed my bag.
Sabrina checked the clock. "I'm heading over early," she announced. "Marissa asked me to help with the welcome table."
That stopped me. Our planner, Marissa, had never once mentioned needing anything from Sabrina.
Before I could ask, Sabrina picked up a big white hatbox from beside the pantry.
"What's in there?" Dad asked.
"Just a few things for the gift table."
"Since when do you do decorations?"
"Since your daughter decided there was no real place for me in her wedding."
She said it with a smile, but the resentment underneath was plain as day.
"You offered to do the guest book," I said.
"You already had Nadia handling everything that mattered."
"It's not a competition, Sabrina."
"Of course it isn't."
She kissed my father's cheek, gave me one more bright smile, and went out the side door.
I watched her carry that white box across the driveway to her car.
Something about it sat wrong with me, and I couldn't have told you what.
Then Nadia leaned on her horn.
I told myself Sabrina could make me uncomfortable, but she couldn't wreck the day unless I let her.
May you like
I was wrong.
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