Chapter 4 - The Bride Gets Ready
At noon, I was sitting in the bedroom of my cottage at Hartwell Orchard, staring at my ivory lace wedding dress hanging on the closet door.
The bedroom smelled of the lavender sachet Grandma had tucked into the wardrobe years ago.
The front door opened, followed by the clatter of high heels and the sound of excited chatter.
"Nora!" Brooke's voice echoed through the hallway. "Where are you? We have four hours before the photographer arrives!"
Brooke walked into the bedroom, carrying a garment bag containing her peach silk maid-of-honor dress, holding an iced matcha latte in one hand.
Her makeup was immaculate, her blonde hair styled in loose beach waves, wearing the exact cardigan I had lent her at the bridal shower.
"Hey, sweetie," Brooke beamed, setting the dress on the bed and wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. "You look so pale! Are you nervous?"
"Just tired," I replied, letting my arms rest against her back. "I had strange dreams last night."
Brooke pulled away, her eyes scanning my face with a practiced flicker of concern. "About what?"
"About Grandma," I said, watching her pupils dilate slightly. "She was standing in the orchard, looking at the Honeycrisps."
Brooke gave a nervous, high-pitched laugh, swatting my arm gently. "Oh, stop it! That’s just wedding jitters. Your grandmother would be thrilled to see you marrying Tyler today. He loves you so much, Nora."
"Does he?" I asked, looking directly into her eyes.
"Of course he does!" Brooke insisted, turning toward the full-length mirror to check her lipstick. "He hasn't stopped talking about how beautiful the ceremony is going to be under those trees."
"He really likes the trees," I murmured, walking over to the window that looked out over the orchard.
Down below, the rental company was setting up two hundred white wooden chairs beneath the heavy branches of the apple trees.
White ribbons fluttered in the warm autumn breeze, and the scent of ripe apples hung heavy in the golden air.
A sleek black town car pulled into the crushed-gravel driveway, followed by a refrigerated catering truck and a mobile floral van.
Diane stepped out of the town car, wearing an expensive mother-of-the-groom emerald silk dress, wearing a wide-brimmed hat that shaded her triumphant smirk.
Behind her walked my uncle Gerald, dressed in a sharp navy blazer, laughing as Tyler slapped him on the back.
They looked like a family preparing for a coronation.
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"Look at them," Brooke smiled beside me, resting her hand on my shoulder. "Everything is coming together perfectly."
"Yes," I said, turning to look at my best friend of twelve years. "Everything is coming together exactly as it should."
