The Wife Between Us(35)

Picking them up had been on the to-do list she’d scribbled on the back of a spin-class schedule, along with Move books to Richard’s storage bin and Buy bikini and after Change mailing address at post office. She’d yet to make it to a spin class this month, either.

Her phone rang at seven on the dot.

“I got a deodorant commercial! I’m Sweaty Girl Three!”

“Josie?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to call so early, but I’ve tried everyone else. Margot can do the first half of my shift. I just need someone to take over at two.”

“Oh, I—”

“I’ll have a line! I can get my SAG card after this!”

Nellie should have said no for so many reasons. Graduation wouldn’t end until one. She still had to finish packing her things. And tonight was the dinner with Richard and Maureen.

But Josie was such a good friend. And she’d been trying to get her SAG card for two years.

“Okay, okay, break a leg. Or is it break a sweat?”

Josie laughed. “Love you!” she shouted.

Nellie rubbed her temples. A faint headache began to pulse between them.

She opened her laptop and typed herself an email with the subject line TO DO!!!!!!: Dry cleaner, pack up books, Gibson’s at 2, Maureen at 7.

A ding announced she had new messages waiting: Linda, reminding the teachers to come in early to set up for graduation. An old sorority sister, Leslie, who still lived in Florida, congratulating her on her engagement. Nellie paused, then deleted that email without replying. Her aunt, asking if Nellie needed any last-minute wedding help. A notification that her automatic monthly charity donation was being deducted from her checking account. Then an email from the wedding photographer: Should I refund your deposit or do you think you’ll reschedule?

Nellie frowned, the words making no sense. She reached for her cell phone and dialed the number at the bottom of his note.

The photographer picked up on the third ring, sounding sleepy.

“Hang on,” he said when she asked about the email. “Let me go to my office.”

She could hear his footsteps, then papers shuffling.

“Yeah. Here’s the message. We got a call last week that the wedding was being postponed.”

“What?” Nellie began to pace in her small bedroom, passing her wedding gown with every few steps. “Who called?”

“My assistant took the message. She told me it was you.”

“I didn’t call! And we haven’t ever changed the date!” Nellie protested, sinking down on the bed.

“I’m sorry, but she’s worked with me for almost two years, and nothing like this has ever happened before.”

She and Richard had both wanted an intimate wedding with a small guest list. “If we do it in New York, I’d have to invite all my colleagues,” Richard had said. He’d found a breathtaking resort in Florida not far from her mother’s home—a white-columned building facing the ocean, encircled by palm trees and red and orange hibiscus—and was paying for the entire bill, including the guests’ rooms, the food, and the wine. He was even picking up the airfare for Sam and Josie and Marnie.

When they viewed the photographer’s website, Richard had admired the journalistic-style images: “Everyone else goes for the stiff posed shots. This guy captures emotion.”

She’d been saving money for weeks, wanting the photographs to be her wedding gift to him.

“Look . . .” Her voice lilted the way it always did when she was on the verge of tears. Maybe the resort could find another photographer, but it wouldn’t be the same. “I don’t mean to be difficult, but this was clearly your mistake.”

“I’m staring at the message right now. But hang on, let me check something. What time is your ceremony again?”

“Four o’clock. We were going to do pictures before, too.”

“Well, I’ve already booked another shoot for three. But I’ll work something out. It’s an engagement portrait, so I bet they won’t mind being bumped an hour or so.”

“Thank you,” Nellie breathed.

“Hey, I get it, it’s your wedding day. Everything should be perfect.”

Her hands shook as she hung up the phone. The assistant must have messed up and the photographer was covering for her, Nellie decided. She’d probably confused their ceremony with another couple’s. But if the photographer hadn’t emailed, blurry shots from her mother’s cheap camera would have been the only pictures they would have had.

The photographer was right, she thought. Everything should be perfect.

Everything would be perfect. Except . . . She went to her top dresser drawer and pulled out a small satin pouch that held a light blue monogrammed handkerchief. It had been her father’s, and since her dad wouldn’t be able to walk her down the aisle, Nellie planned to wrap it around her bouquet. She wanted to feel his presence on that symbolic journey.

Her dad had been stoic. He hadn’t cried even as he told her about his diagnosis of colon cancer. But when Nellie graduated from junior high school, she’d seen his eyes grow damp. “Thinking about all the things I’ll miss,” he’d said. He’d kissed the top of her head, and then the mist disappeared from his eyes, like a morning fog evaporating in the sun. Six months later, he was gone, too.