Part 32 (1/2)
Cara arched one eyebrow. She'd done enough Facebook stalking of her own to know how this worked.
”You're telling me you don't check his status?”
”Not in a relations.h.i.+p,” Brooke said, her voice barely a whisper. ”Anyway, what else do we need to discuss? About the wedding? Patricia texts me every day, asking for a status report. She's making me nuts.”
”Right. Okay. Did you get a chance to look at the photoraphers' websites that I sent you? Any preferences?”
”Yeah, but I thought Patricia already hired some photographer.”
”Meredith. She only does portraits. This photographer is for the actual wedding.”
”Geez. Does everything have to be so complicated? Anyway, yeah, I liked them both. Mom really liked the woman-what's her name?”
”Rita McCall. I think Rita really has a nice way with candids and black-and-white. And she's so good at capturing the mood of the event.”
”Fine. Then let's go with Rita McCall,” Brooke said. ”What else? I've only got a few more minutes.”
”Hmm. We really need to discuss table markers and favors. I've some ideas. Since the Strayhorns are in s.h.i.+pping, I thought we could do these miniature s.h.i.+pping containers, stencil your name and Harris's on one side...”
”Great.”
”I've got a great artisa.n.a.l chocolatier in town, he'll come up with a signature chocolate filling for us-do you like milk chocolate or dark chocolate?”
”Dark, I guess. I don't actually eat a lot of sweets.”
Not surprising, Cara thought, looking at the bride's picked-over salad.
”I thought we could do maybe six or eight pieces of chocolate in each container.”
”Okay.”
”Now,” Cara said, taking a deep breath. ”The seating chart. It's going to get complicated, it always is when there's been a divorce in the family. You've got the list of people who've already responded, so if you would, maybe give me your thoughts on who should be seated where.”
”My thoughts?” Brooke shook her head impatiently. ”I look at the list, and I don't know most of these people. Maybe Harris does, but I don't. Here's all I want, Cara. Just don't put Patricia anywhere near me. Or my mom. Or actually, if you could just not put her in the same room with us, that would be good.”
”Be real, please Brooke,” Cara said sharply. She scrolled back over to the seating chart she'd made up-circles and rectangles drawn to scale and arrayed around the ballroom at Cabin Creek. ”Just take a look, please, this is important, if not to you, to your parents and the Strayhorns....”
Brooke frowned, but bent her head and studied the chart. A shadow fell over the iPad and they both looked up. Pete Haynes cleared his throat, as though he were about to make a speech.
”Listen, Brooke. I've got to get on the road if I'm going to make the afternoon ferry from St. Marys over to c.u.mberland.” He handed her a sc.r.a.p of paper. ”That's my email. Cell-phone service on the island is pretty c.r.a.ppy. And I don't get up to Savannah that much because of the project I'm working on. With the wild horses. But if you're coming down there anytime, I was thinking it'd be great to get together....”
Brooke looked at the slip of paper, then placed it on the tabletop. She looked over at Cara. ”Pete, this is Cara Kryzik.”
”Hi,” he said, shaking Cara's hand politely. ”I'm an old friend of Brooke's. Pete Haynes. Sorry to interrupt your lunch.”
”Not at all,” Cara murmured.
”The thing is, Pete, Cara's my wedding planner. I'm getting married next month.”
”July the sixth,” Cara said helpfully.
If he was stunned, he didn't show it. ”You're engaged?”
Brooke held up her left hand, where Harris Strayhorn's diamond solitaire twinkled from her slender ring finger. ”I am.”
”Oh.” He s.h.i.+fted from one foot to the other as the news sunk in. ”That's great. Good for you. Congratulations.”
”Thanks,” Brooke said. She gave him a bright smile. ”How about you? Is there a wife down there on c.u.mberland Island?”
”No,” he said, pressing his lips together. ”Nothing like that. Anyway, I gotta get going. It was nice to see you again, Brooke. And uh, good luck with the wedding and everything. I hope you'll, uh, be very happy.”
”I'm sure we will be,” Brooke said. Cara watched Brooke watching him weave his way through the crowded tables to the dining room exit. The waitress came over, and dropped the leatherette folder with the bill on the table, but Brooke picked it up before Cara could.
”My treat,” Brooke said. She tucked some bills in the envelope. They both stood to leave.
”You'll go over the seating chart?” Cara prompted.
”I swear. Email it to me again, and I'll let you know,” Brooke promised.
”Today?”
”Absolutely.”
Cara stood and took her pocketbook from the back of the chair. She couldn't help but notice that the slip of paper with Pete Haynes's email address was right where Brooke had left it.
41.
Cara was headed back to the shop when her cell phone rang.
”Hi Brooke. Did you have a chance to look at the seating chart this quickly?”
”Sorry, not yet. Cara?”
”Yes?”
”About what I said. Earlier, in the restaurant. About me and Pete. You probably think I'm awful. A total s.l.u.t.”
”I don't think that,” Cara said. ”Anyway, it was a long time ago. You said yourself, until today you hadn't seen the guy in years.”
”It's been five years. I'm not trying to excuse what I did, but you have to understand. That summer? Before I moved to Atlanta and started law school, it was like I was in this little bubble, and the only reality was me and Pete. I still can't explain it. I loved Harris, and I knew we would get married eventually. But he was in Atlanta, and I was in DC. And Pete was right there. And we had so much fun together, it was like we were kids back in high school again.”
”Brooke. Why are you telling me all this? I'm not judging you.”
”I know,” Brooke said, sighing. ”Maybe I'm trying to explain it to myself. The thing is, at the time, it didn't seem wrong. As long as Harris didn't know about Pete, and Pete didn't know about Harris, I thought n.o.body could get hurt. And they didn't. It was just that one summer.”