The Wedding We Attended by Mistake

How it begins

Mara Cole realized it was the wrong wedding when the groom thanked his father for coming back from Peru.

The groom she'd intended to watch marry had a father who lived in Bristol and disliked travel beyond the garden center.

She looked at the man beside her.

"Do you know these people?"

Rafi Rowe glanced at the program.

"I was hoping you did."

Beyond the terrace, the sea moved in bright, ordinary strips. Two hotels stood along this part of the promenade. Both had white doors, blue awnings, and weddings scheduled for two o'clock. Mara had followed the flowers. Rafi had followed her.

They slipped out before the photographs.

In the corridor, a woman carrying a seating chart looked at their expressions and laughed.

"The other hotel?"

Mara nodded.

"Happens twice a summer. Have you eaten?"

"We should go."

"You can, of course. But two people canceled and the food's already paid for."

Rafi looked at Mara rather than answering for both of them. It was a courtesy she noticed because her rare days off usually filled with other people's confident assumptions about what she'd enjoy.

"We'd tell them," she said.

"Naturally," the woman replied. "We have enough family secrets without importing any."

At lunch, they were seated beside an empty chair marked AUNT HELEN.

Every time someone approached the table, they looked at the chair before greeting anyone else.

Mara watched a woman in a yellow coat stand outside the terrace doors, uncertain whether to enter. She held a wrapped gift against her chest.

Rafi followed her gaze.

"That looks like the right guest at the wrong wedding," he said quietly.

Mara put down her fork.

For the first time all afternoon, the mistake that had brought them here seemed less interesting than the welcome someone else was still waiting to receive.