“There’s been a slight change of plans I wanted to make you and your photographer aware of,” I begin. “We’re doing a slideshow for our guests as they arrive—just a couple photos of us throughout the years... I’m sure you’ve seen this before, I don’t have to tell you.” She nods pleasantly. “It might be nice to get a few photos of that for your article—of Vermont’s elite blushing over how cute we are.” I add a laugh at the end, like I was in on the joke of how silly that sounded. “That will happen just before the first look. I’m actually seeing Graham’s brother before Graham, to make sure that’s all sorted out. It’s always risky to put brothers-in-law in charge.”

We laugh together like lifelong girlfriends.

“We’ve also added a slightly modified first look. Instead of just Graham and me, we’re going to include his whole family and my maid of honor, Lena.”

“Oh, interesting. What made you decide that?”

I shook my head. “You know, we just figured there are so many people here—so many friends of Mr. Walker and the family, that we really wanted a more intimate, private moment. Everyone else can see me for the first time when I’m walking down that long aisle,” I said, knowing—and grateful—that we’d never get that far.

“This is all so great to know. I promise we’ll make ourselves scarce. You’ll never know there’s anyone but family there.”

“I appreciate that,” I said. “I think there’s a good chance you’ll get your cover shot then.”

A very good chance.

TWENTY-THREE

My phone buzzes in my hand as I slowly follow my entourage of photographers and videographers and makeup artists down the long hallway on the second floor, my footsteps—and my head—feeling lighter and lighter as we get closer to the end.

I glance around as I answer, reminding myself not to say anything revealing. We’ve made it this far. Don’t want to spoil the surprise now, do we?

“Yes?” I say, garnering a sideways glance from my hairstylist. Who would dare call the bride this close to her wedding? And why would the bride answer?

“We found something,” Molly says, her voice distant and harsh. “Greg is on his way to you. We’ll be there soon.”

I hang up without another word.

TWENTY-FOUR

At six o’clock, I am where I need to be.

Almost there, was the text from Molly a few minutes ago. After all this time, we finally found Ruthie. And now it is time to close the door on this chapter of our lives; to find a new normal; to finally live.

I’m in the reception tent, prepared for the confrontation disguised as first looks. It was a first look at something, but not the dress. At the evidence.