Madelyn "Lyn" Creeke and her grandmother were the last of their family. At least, that's what Lyn's grandmother always led her to believe.
Lyn had never heard of or seen pictures of Georgina Creeke, a great aunt that had been living a few hours awa...
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"Do you see anybody from work here, Mary?"
Roger looked back over the crowd, taking the handkerchief that once served as his pocket square and using it to dab the sweat from his forehead. Though I didn't need to turn around to prove my assumptions, I still followed his gaze. I glanced over my shoulder and scanned the crowd of smiling faces as they found their seats on either side of the aisle. We were the only ones that needed to be directed to the right side of the deck, which was the bride's side of the aisle. I knew there wouldn't be anyone else.
"No," I said with a sigh. "Like I told you before, I highly doubt anyone else in the office even got an invitation." My voice dropped and a slight frown pulled at my lips. I turned away from the other guests, all of which were Hereford Hills residents, and focused on the altar ahead of us. "She wasn't particularly close with anyone at work and she's been gone for two and a half years now. The world moves so fast in our business. For most of my coworkers, it could have been a decade ago. They've all but forgotten her."
"You sure?" He turned back to face me, his eyes wild with desperation. "You're positive?"
"Oh, come on, Roger." I rolled my eyes, but also wore a bemused twist on my lips. "Even if someone was here, no one is going to think less of you. Just do it already."
"That's what you say, but you forget how Gerald Mortimer was ridiculed for six months after showing up to the Layton's gala wearing a beige suit." Still, his hands made quick work, pulling his tie from his neck and unbuttoning the top of his shirt so his skin could breathe beneath the oppressive summer sun. "Why'd it have to be in August? Or better yet, doesn't this town have a hall or something that this could have been in? With AC?"
"One," I said, holding up a finger before my husband, "it's in August because it's a slow time for them. The summer crowd is tapering because the school year is starting in a couple of weeks. And two..." I paused and took a deep breath, turning to face the sprawling lawn before us. A smile spread across my lips, my eyes dancing over the swaying trees, hazy mountains, and bright blue sky. "And two, Roger, how on earth could you expect them to hold their wedding inside a church basement when they have this in their backyard?"
"Mary, I'm beginning to think I've got you trapped in the city." He chuckled before reaching a hand up to wipe more sweat from his face. "I think we've come out here four times since Lyn moved."
"It's been six," I corrected him, before quickly amending my statement. "Well, six for me. I came out by myself shortly after Madelyn—and it is Madelyn, Roger. I don't know how many times I've had to remind you of that. Anyway, after she put in her two weeks' notice, I came out the first chance I got to make sure she was okay out here. Then there was the fall harvest trip, our anniversary, the family ski trip, Christmas, and that quick weekend when I came up to help her with the wedding planning."
"Oh, right." He massaged his chin as his eyes rolled up in recollection. "I spent the entire time working, and you were off pretending to be the mother of the bride, so I kind of forgot."
