We Lost the Bride and Found Each Other

How it begins

The bride had left three things in the dressing room: her shoes, half a sandwich, and a note asking everyone to avoid the phrase cold feet.

The car smelled of sun cream and the flowers Ruth had collected before anyone asked whether she wanted the job.

Ruth Adler read the note twice.

Her younger sister's handwriting was steady. That seemed significant. So did the missing trainers.

"She planned this," Ruth said.

From the doorway, Jonas Cole examined the abandoned sandwich. "Sensibly. Wedding food takes hours."

"This isn't funny."

"I know. That's why I'm trying quite hard."

Beyond the wall, a string quartet worked its way through a piece intended to suggest serenity. Ruth could hear the first violin beginning to panic.

Her phone lit up with a message from her sister.

I am safe. I need an afternoon without an audience. Please don't send Mum.

Ruth breathed out. Then she checked the time, calculated the distance to the harbor, and reached for the car keys.

Jonas moved aside. "Are you going to fetch her or talk to her?"

"I'm going to make sure she's all right."

"She's told you that part."

Ruth looked at him properly. He was the groom's friend, the one who cooked on ships and had arrived wearing a suit with hiking boots. At breakfast, she'd decided he was charming in a way that probably caused administrative work for women.

Now he was being inconveniently precise.

"You can come," she said. "If you can avoid commentary."

"Unlikely. I can offer navigation and emergency biscuits."

They left by the kitchen door. On the terrace, the sea flashed blue between white tablecloths. Everything looked ready for a life that one person no longer wanted.

In the car, Ruth held the keys without starting the engine.

"What if she makes a terrible mistake?"

Jonas fastened his seat belt.

"Then we should probably make sure it's hers."