“I’m so sorry, Cricket.”

“No, I didn’t mean because of you, Whit. You know I didn’t. I keep thinking that maybe we don’t need another thing to fuss over after everything that’s happened.”

I meet my cousin’s gaze. “What do you want? Screw Hunter’s mom and everyone else. This is your wedding. How do you picture it?”

She closes her eyes, and I wonder if it’s the first time anyone has asked her opinion. I pray that I’m wrong.

“I want simple. Hunt and my family. Trees and mountains in the background, and the sound of rushing water underlying it all.”

McKinley, who watches from the doorway, finally speaks up. “I can promise that you’ll have the background and sound you want. Your family, I can’t control, but we can make everything else perfect. We can cut out all the extra trappings that people usually tack on to make weddings over the top at The Gables. How about a sunset ceremony with only the people who matter to you?”

The lines on Cricket’s face soften. “That sounds incredible. Like maybe there’s a chance I could have a wedding that doesn’t look like Bridezilla planned it.”

“If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’re going to have,” McKinley says as she steps into the room. “I have the perfect spot in mind, and we’ll keep it as simple as possible. Also, just so you know, we’re honored to have you at The Gables for your wedding.”

I already liked McKinley Riscoff, but now I like her even more because she put happy tears in my cousin’s eyes.

Thank you. I mouth the words to her as the seamstress finishes the last-minute alterations on Cricket’s dress.

“Do you want to join us for lunch?” Cricket asks McKinley. “I hear there’s champagne.”

McKinley smiles. “I’d love to.”

For a few moments, I feel like everything is going to work out fine. The rehearsal is only a few days away, and then Cricket can have her beautiful but not too over-the-top wedding.

But I’ve been known to speak too soon.

Twenty-Three

Lincoln

“Unfortunately, your mother’s tissue didn’t pass the necessary screenings for donation,” the organ-donation coordinator says. “We’ve notified the funeral home that she is ready for pick up because the coroner has also finished, and the hospital is officially releasing—”

“What are you talking about?” I grip my phone tightly as I close myself in the room my father used as an office at the estate. “How could she not pass the screening?”

“Sir, I’m not at liberty to speak further on the subject. I’m sure the coroner would be more than happy to discuss the findings of your mother’s autopsy report with you if you have questions. I know he fast-tracked it due to your family’s request.”

It’s been three days since my mother’s death, and this is the last conversation I expected to be having. I assumed all the organs and tissue had already been harvested and put into use by now. “She was on heart medication. Is that why?”