Local Girls by O'connell Jenny

Author:O'connell, Jenny [O'connell, Jenny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult, Romance, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781416564171
Goodreads: 7134008
Publisher: MTV Books
Published: 2008-06-02T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Weddings are everywhere on the island during the summer, so I should have known that sooner or later some bride would sweep into the Willow to fulfill her dream of a Vineyard wedding. On Saturday morning the entire staff was running around making sure things were just so for the future Mrs. Edward Smithers from New Jersey and the rest of the bridal party, who had reserved practically every room at the inn. Tamara and Susan were responsible for seating the entire bridal party—four bridesmaids, four ushers, two flower girls, a ring bearer, and assorted family members—and serving them breakfast (blueberry pancakes, in keeping with the wedding’s blue theme). Marcus spent an hour going through the checklist Wendy handed him first thing in the morning, when we all gathered in the kitchen to get our special assignments. The list had at least ten items on it, including placing a single blue hydrangea at the foot of every guest’s door, instead of the morning paper, and arranging fifty little silver bells on the side table next to the front stairs. According to Wendy, the guests were supposed to take a bell to the ceremony at the church, where they’d ring them instead of tossing rice and spare the bride the guilt, and mess, of exploding birds. Lexi had thought the same thing, which was why she had us all blow soap bubbles instead of tossing rice. I had looked it up on Google and told Lexi the whole exploding-bird thing was an urban myth. She had the bubbles anyway.

“Kendra, can you please deliver these upstairs to room twelve when you’re done with the lunches?” Wendy asked me as soon as breakfast was over. She handed me a vase overflowing with purply blue lilacs. They smelled amazing. “And take this card.”

Room 12 was different than the rest of the guest rooms, and not just because it had its own private stairway (all the other rooms were accessed from the main staircase in the front foyer). Room 12 was at the end of a long hallway between room 11 and room 14 (there was no room 13). If the Willow were some tacky hotel with Jacuzzis in the shape of champagne glasses, room 12 probably would have been called the bridal suite. But here it was just room 12. And I’d been dying to see it.

“Should I call up first?” I asked, taking the arrangement from Wendy.

“Nope, they’re out for a bit checking in at the church. Just take it up.”

The lilacs sat on the kitchen counter while I filled the few lunch orders we had. Because most of the inn was filled with wedding guests, nobody was going to the beach. They were just killing time before heading to the church.

When the last ham and Gruyère sandwich was wrapped and placed into the picnic basket, I carefully wrapped my arms around the vase, careful not to spill any of the water on my shirt, and headed up the narrow staircase to room 12.

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