I am mortified.
I caught Bridget with another guy yesterday, on the cusp of finding out William had purchased an engagement ring. In my panic, I sent you an e-mail. Or at least I thought I sent you an e-mail. Turns out, it didn’t go to you. It went to this guy named Nate, who I hit with my car (long story). He must think I’m psycho. Anyway, I need advice on what to do. William is head-over-heels in love with this girl. You saw them together with your own eyes. If I tell him that I caught Bridget with another man, he’ll be crushed. But of course, I have to tell him. Better he know now than find out after the wedding, right? Please call or e-mail as soon as possible.
Miss you terribly,
Amelia
PS: I have now officially quadruple-checked to make sure I’m sending this to the right person!!
At five o’clock, I began my closing routine. My delivery guy, who was no longer sick, had taken all the orders that needed delivering before six, except the arrangements for my stepsisters’ party. I would bring those with me. I’d received three phone calls from my stepmother throughout the day ensuring that I wouldn’t forget them. It was more than we’d spoken all year. I finished organizing the back cooler, then began the task of cleaning out the dirty stem buckets with soap and water. I organized and filed the orders that needed to go out tomorrow and was sweeping the floor behind the counter when the front bell jingled. I looked up from the growing pile of leafy debris.
It was William, looking even giddier today than he had yesterday.
My broom stopped.
He spread his arms wide. “She said yes.”
The knot of dread in my gut doubled.
“Your baby bro is officially engaged to be married to the love of his life.” William met me at the front of the store. “We were supposed to go to dinner last night, but something came up and Bridget had to cancel. Since I couldn’t wait, I ended up surprising her at her school yesterday afternoon. Her students clapped and cheered. And she loved the flowers.”
“Wow.” I didn’t know what else to say. Or do. Bridget had said yes to my brother’s proposal, then gone out on a date with another man that very same evening. If I wasn’t so filled with concern and heartbreak for William, I would have been steaming hot mad. Seriously, how dare she?
My brother’s smile drooped at the corners. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Amelia . . .”
“No, it’s nothing. Really. I’m just . . .” Just what? Shocked? Upset? Conflicted? I had no idea what to say. I needed Rachel! “A little emotional. I mean, you’re getting married.”
“It’s crazy, eh? When did we get so old?”
“Hey, I have six years on you, buddy. If you’re old, then I’m ancient.”
William laughed. “Is your calendar free for October twenty-fourth?”
“What’s October twenty-fourth?”
“The day I nab myself a wife.”
If I’d been drinking something, I would have spit it out. Good thing William had waited until the end of the day to tell me. My coffee was long gone. “Why so soon?”
“Because when you’re as in love as Bridget and me, there’s no reason to wait. We’re ready to be married, and since we don’t want anything huge or fancy for a wedding, it won’t take long to plan. Besides”—William’s attention flickered toward the framed photograph on the wall over my head—“October’s when Mom and Dad got married. It’s a great month. Bridget and I are hoping you’ll do the flowers.”
He was right, of course. When the weather cooperated, October weddings were beautiful. October weddings between a wonderful, godly man and his cheating fiancée, on the other hand? Not so much. My mind fast-forwarded to the event. I imagined the other man showing up. A huge confrontation in the middle of the church. Bridget trouncing off with her secret lover, leaving my brokenhearted brother at the altar.
“Amelia?”
My eyelids fluttered. “What was that?”
“Can you do the flowers?”
“Oh . . . sure. I’ll have to check the calendar, but yes. I should be able to.”
“Great. Bridget and I will see you tonight at Mackinaws.” He tapped the counter a few times with his palms and shot me a wink. “She’ll be the one with the brand-new ring on her finger.”