Wind Chime Wedding (A Wind Chime Novel Book 2) (14 page)

“Over there.” Becca nodded to a stack of boxes in the corner filled with old milk bottles Gladys had been collecting all winter to display the simple arrangements of white peonies, Baby’s Breath and English lavender. “Though I’m not sure how Tom’s going to feel about using them. Did I tell you he’s pushing for white tablecloths and assigned seating now?”

“Seriously?”

Becca nodded, reaching for another box of tea lights. “He’s worried that the picnic tables and buffet dinner won’t be classy enough for his co-workers.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “The next thing you know, he’s going to want to hire a team of waiters carrying silver trays.”

Becca just looked at her.

“He already asked for that?”

Becca laughed at the appalled expression on her friend’s face. “Don’t worry. I said, no. And I said, no, to the white tablecloths. But I compromised by agreeing to assigned seating.”

“Assigned seating at picnic tables?”

“I know.” Becca dropped the last tea light into a jar at the edge of the counter. “It sounds ridiculous, but Tom’s worried that some of the partners at his firm will be seated with people they won’t have anything in common with.”

Grace set down the ribbon she’d been about to tie around the strip of lace. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

“This is your
wedding
, Becca, not an event to impress the partners at Tom’s law firm.”

Becca glanced up.

Grace opened her mouth, then closed it. “Sorry.” She held up a hand. “I forgot.”

“It’s okay.” Becca looked back down. Grace had never been a big fan of Tom’s, but she had promised to try and keep things civil, at least until after the wedding. Becca secretly hated the fact that her best friend couldn’t stand her future husband. Grace and Tom were two of the most important people in the world to her, and the fact that they couldn’t get along upset her a lot more than she let on.

Pulling her smartphone out of her pocket, Grace scrolled through a few screens. “What do you want to do about place cards?” she asked, shifting the conversation back to wedding planning and away from Tom. “I bet we could find some online…”

“Already taken care of.” Becca lifted the canvas bag off the stool beside her and passed it across the counter to Grace.

Grace took the bag and peered inside at over a hundred and fifty pieces of folded cardstock with the names of each guest written in large awkwardly shaped letters—letters that had clearly been written by children.

“It seemed like a good day to have the kids practice their penmanship,” Becca said with a straight face.

Grace smiled. “I love it.” She was about to hand the bag back when one of the cards caught her eye and she pulled it out, holding it up for Becca to see. The name, Colin Foley, was written in silver bubble letters on white cardstock. “Colin finally RSVP’d?”

Becca nodded. Reaching for a piece of lace, she wrapped it around one of the jars. “A couple of days ago.”

Grace tapped the card lightly against the counter. “I had an interesting call from Colin today.”

Becca pushed a pin into the ends of the lace to seal the piece together around the jar. “Oh, yeah?” she asked, trying to keep her voice casual. “What did he want?”

Grace turned the card over, laying it flat against the wood. “He wants me to write an article.”

Becca reached for another strip of lace, feeling a pinch of uneasiness. “About what?”

“About the elementary school.”

Becca’s eyes met Grace’s across the counter.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Grace said quietly.

“I’m so sorry,” Becca said, setting the lace down. “I wanted to. Colin asked me not to say anything until he and his father had a chance to figure something out. I thought we had everything under control.”

“Don’t worry,” Grace said. “I’m not angry with you. I just thought you would have told me. I know how much that school means to you.”

Becca looked down, running her thumb over the edge of the lace. “I haven’t told Annie yet, either.”

“Well, she’s going to find out soon enough. Colin wants me to break the story tomorrow, right after Shelley makes her announcement to the teachers. I went up to Annapolis today to interview the governor. It’s going to be a major piece, Becca. But I’m going to need an interview or a quote, at the least, from Annie to make it work.”

Becca’s heart sank. There was no way Annie would agree to that. “She hasn’t given a single interview since the shooting.”

“I know,” Grace said. “And I respect that. But it’s been over six months. Maybe she’ll be willing to do it if I’m the reporter asking the questions and it’s to save her daughter’s school.”

It was true, Becca thought. If Grace broke the news in
The Washington Tribune
, one of the most widely read papers in the country, the story could go viral. A quote from Annie could potentially convince the board to drop the threat. But was it fair of them to ask this of her?

In the weeks following the shooting, reporters had hounded both Annie and Taylor in D.C. Part of the reason they’d moved to Heron Island was to get away from all that. “If we open this door, more reporters will come to the island. Every newspaper and TV station will be calling the café, wanting a quote from Annie, wanting to interview Taylor.”

“That’s going to happen anyway,” Grace said. “As soon as this story breaks, Annie and Taylor will be swarmed. The only question is, who’s going to get to them first?”

A
nnie, wait,” Becca said, pushing out the double doors of the elementary school after her friend the next day.

Annie shook her head and kept walking. “I need to find Taylor.”

“Taylor’s with Della. She’s fine. That’s why we asked you to come alone. So you could have some time to process this.”

“I don’t need time to
process
this.” Annie’s boots clicked over the pavement as she made her way across the parking lot to the sidewalk leading back to the café. “I need to talk to my daughter.”

Becca followed her past several small groups of islanders huddled together, all talking about the same thing. Now that Shelley had made her announcement to the teachers, word would spread fast across the island. A few of their neighbors stopped talking when Annie walked by, their expressions filled with concern.

“It’s not over yet,” Becca said, when she finally caught up with her. “The decision hasn’t been made.” She placed a hand on Annie’s arm. “We’re going to fight this.”

Annie paused at the edge of the sidewalk. She looked down at Becca’s hand, then back up at her face. “Why aren’t you as upset as I am?”

“What?”

“Shelley said all the teachers found out today.”

“Yes, but—”

“When did you find out?”

Becca lowered her hand back to her side. “Thursday.”

“Thursday?” Annie echoed. “You’ve known since
Thursday
, and you didn’t tell me?”

It sounded awful when she put it that way, Becca thought. She watched her friend turn and walk away. She knew Annie needed time, that she probably wanted to be alone right now. But she didn’t want her to think, even for a second, that this school meant any less to her than it did to everyone else on the island. Just because she was leaving didn’t mean she wasn’t going to do everything in her power to save it.

She started after her, picking up her pace until she’d closed in on her friend again a block away from the café. “The only reason I didn’t tell you sooner was because we were trying to find a way to convince the board to reconsider their decision. We didn’t want to upset everyone before we knew for sure. Colin was certain that—”

Annie stopped walking, turning slowly to face Becca again. “Colin?”

Becca nodded. “He’s been trying to help us. His father—”

“
Colin
knew about this and he didn’t tell me either?”

Becca trailed off when she saw the hurt expression on Annie’s face. Her friend felt like she’d been betrayed, not by one, but
two
of her closest friends. And it was about to get a lot worse, Becca thought as she spotted Grace sitting on the steps of the café. Annie’s participation would be crucial for the story’s success, but she had a feeling Annie wasn’t going to be feeling too warm and fuzzy about helping any of them right now.

Grace pushed slowly to her feet, her eyes filled with sympathy. “Hey, Annie.”

“You know, too?” Annie asked.

Grace nodded.

Annie brushed past her, climbing the steps to the door. “Am I the last person on this island to find out?”

“I know you’re upset,” Grace said, “but I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” Annie snapped, already reaching for the door.

“About what’s happening. I don’t like this any more than you do, but we need to act fast if we’re going to fight this.” Grace walked up the steps so they were eye-to-eye on the porch. “If we break this story before anyone else does, we might be able enlist the public’s sympathy. If we can get enough people behind us, it might be enough to convince the board to drop the threat.”

Annie stiffened. “You’re writing about it?”

“Yes,” Grace said.

“I guess I should have expected that,” she said bitterly.

“It’s the only way.” Grace walked up the steps. “I know you don’t want the press. I know you haven’t given a single interview since the shooting last year and I respect that, but think how powerful it’ll be if you speak out now, for the first time. If the public hears from you—about how important this school is for Taylor.”

“No,” Annie said, her voice flat.

“The rest of the story is already written. It’s ready to go to press. All I need is a quote from you.”

“No.” Annie shook her head. “We moved here to get away from that. I won’t subject Taylor to reporters again. I won’t have them coming here, to this island, to our home.”

“It’s too late for that,” Grace said. “This story is going to break whether you like it or not. Reporters are going to come here. They are going to ask you questions. They are going to ask Taylor questions. You can either speak now, as one of us, or you can let them wear you down until you say something you don’t mean to say.”

“They won’t wear me down.”

“They
will
wear you down. I can guarantee that. And when you do finally say something in the heat of the moment, they’ll run with it, twisting your words in a hundred different directions on a dozen different news sources. All I need is one quote, Annie. We can get through this together. I know what I’m doing. I’m on your side. You need to let me do this.”

Annie opened the door. “The only thing I need to do right now is talk to my daughter.

“Annie—”

“Find another way.” She walked inside, slamming the door in Grace’s face.

“I’m going to
run the article,” Grace said an hour later as she and Becca sat at a picnic table on the deck outside Rusty’s, nursing a couple of beers. “With or without a quote from Annie.”