The irresistible smell of bacon led me to the breakfast room. The room was enormous, like a summer camp mess hall with rows of wooden picnic tables and benches, and a long buffet serving table at the back.
I was still half awake, yawning and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I saw the line of guests moving slowly along the buffet table, piling scrambled eggs, breakfast potatoes, bacon and sausage onto their plates.
The clinks of plates and glasses and coffee cups and the ringing blare of voices helped to wake me up. I focused my eyes and, stepping into the room, searched for Aiden.
No sign of him.
Uncle Kenny waved to me from a table at the near end of a row. Max was perched on his knees on the picnic bench across from Kenny. He had a big stack of pancakes on his plate.
Kenny must have cut the pancakes into pieces for Max. The kid was dunking the pieces into syrup, eating them with his hands. I had to laugh. His fingers were dripping with syrup, and he had somehow smeared it over one cheek.
Marissa’s friends Taylor and Dani were at the next table, bowls of yogurt and fruit in front of them. They waved to me and I waved back. I didn’t feel like eating. I just needed about a gallon of coffee.
I was desperate to tell Robby that Aiden was here. But he was against the far wall, his table crowded with guys I didn’t recognize, probably Doug’s friends.
A loud crash made me jump. Someone had dropped a plate of eggs. The plate shattered as the eggs spilled over the floor in the middle of the buffet line. Two white-uniformed attendants bent to gather it all up.
I found the coffee dispenser and filled a white mug to the brim. I love the smell of coffee. The aroma wakes me up before I even drink it.
Gripping the mug between my hands, I spotted an empty place at my parents’ table near the center of the room. I nodded good morning to them as I lowered myself onto the bench.
Mom was red-eyed and the lines beneath her eyes appeared darker than usual. She wore a blue wool cap over her hair. She had a bowl of oatmeal and strawberries in front of her, but had barely touched it.
“Did you sleep?” I asked. She’s a terrible sleeper.
“Not much. I kept thinking of all the things that could go wrong today.”
I laughed. Typical Mom. “Why didn’t you think about happy things? You know. Things that could go right?”
Her turn to laugh. “Does that sound like me?”
Mom has a good sense of humor about herself. Usually, she’s hyper-serious. She can be intense. She went to law school, even though she never practiced, and she has a lawyer’s eye for details. And she loves to argue.
I don’t think I’ve ever won an argument with her. Even if she knows she’s wrong, she will outlast you. Marissa gets along much better with Mom than I do. She can be as intense and argumentative as Mom.
I’m not like that. Mom and I have had some pretty big fights. Sometimes they get very emotional. Sometimes there’s a lot of anger between us.
So I guess my favorite thing about my mom is that she can make jokes about herself, and she doesn’t get all worked up if you tease her.
I couldn’t decide whether or not to tell my parents about seeing Aiden. Maybe they already know he’s here, I thought. And then before I could decide what to do, my dad started clinking his orange juice glass with the handle of his spoon, and he jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over his coffee mug.
“A toast!” He had to shout really loud because the din of voices rang off the walls and the low rafters. “A breakfast toast!”
The big room seemed to settle down in waves, first one table, then the next, stretching to the far wall. Dad raised his orange juice glass. Was it a mimosa? Was he already celebrating with champagne in his juice? I couldn’t tell.
“A good-morning toast to the bride and groom!” he boomed.
Some people raised glasses, some coffee mugs. I heard Max yell, “More syrup! I want more syrup!”
“Good morning, everyone,” Dad said. “We are already blessed with a beautiful day of sun and blue skies for our wedding on the mesa.”
Some guys at Robby’s table cheered. I saw that Robby already had his phone to his ear.
“Before we all head out,” my dad continued, “and get ourselves dressed and looking our finest for the big event, I wanted to say a quick salute to the bride and groom.”
He glanced around the room. “Well, I see our bride has not come down yet, so I will offer my thanks to the lucky groom.” He turned toward Doug.
To my surprise, Doug was sitting all by himself at a table near the doors. Why isn’t he sitting with his friends? I wondered. He looked as if he’d been at the bar all night. His hair was down over his face. His black-and-red Metallica T-shirt was ripped at the collar.
“A simple toast,” Dad continued, his voice echoing off the rafters. “I just want to say thank you. Thank you, Doug, and thank you, Marissa, for giving us all a reason to come together at this beautiful resort and celebrate!” He raised his glass higher. “Thank you both!”
Raised glasses and the words thank you repeated around the room. Dad sat down with a smile on his face. He turned to Mom. “Guess our daughter is taking the whole beauty rest thing seriously. She’s going to miss breakfast.”
“Marissa never eats breakfast anyway,” I reminded him. “That’s how she keeps her perfect figure, remember?”
Dad frowned at me. “Harmony, you’re not being sarcastic, are you? Please don’t be sarcastic on your sister’s wedding day.”
I kissed his forehead. “Dad, I don’t have a sarcastic bone in my body. You know that.”
I jumped up and, carrying my coffee mug, made my way to Doug’s table. He had his elbows on the table and was resting his head in his hands. He didn’t smile as I approached. I realized I hadn’t seen him smile much the whole weekend.
I dropped down across from him. “What’s your problem?” I don’t like to beat around the bush.
He stirred as if I’d awoken him. “Excuse me?”
“You okay?” I asked, squinting hard at him. He hadn’t shaved yet. One eye was a lot redder than the other. “You’re sitting here by yourself?”
He shrugged. “Resting up, you know?”
I took a long sip of coffee. “Shouldn’t you be bro-ing around with your buddies? You know. Happy groom stuff.”
He stared back at me, still without smiling. “I guess.”
“Come on, Doug,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Give me a break, Harmony. I’m just tense, you know. Don’t I have a right to be nervous?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. “Sorry,” I muttered. I started to get up.
“No worries.” He forced a smile. Even his smile was kind of grim. Like it was painful for him. He’s such a sullen guy, I thought. And for the thousandth time I thought, What does Marissa see in him?
I decided maybe I did need some breakfast. The wedding was scheduled for one o’clock. There wouldn’t be a chance to eat until the reception afterward.
I was nearly to the food table when someone grabbed my legs and nearly tackled me to the floor. I twisted around. “Max! Hey! Let go, buddy! Let go!”
He tossed back his head and laughed. He tightened his arms around my legs.
“Sorry.” Uncle Kenny had to pry the little monster off me. “Max is excited about the wedding,” Kenny said. “Aren’t you, Max?”
“No.” He burst forward to tackle me again, but Kenny managed to restrain him.
“Max, tell Harmony what you’re going to do at the wedding,” Uncle Kenny urged.
“Throw flowers,” Max said.
I laughed. “Yes. You’re the flower boy. You carry the basket of flowers at the end of the line.”
“I’m going to throw them,” Max said.
“Wait till you see Max in his tux,” Kenny said, patting him on the shoulder.
“No tux,” Max shouted. “No tux!”
“Shhhh.” Kenny patted the kid’s shoulder some more.
“I can’t believe they don’t have omelets,” Kenny said. “A place like this, they should have their own omelet chef, don’t you think? The scrambled eggs were so cold, they were probably right out of the freezer.”
“That’s too bad,” I murmured. What could I say? I watched Max lead Kenny out of the dining hall. Guess I won’t have the scrambled eggs, I decided.
I don’t know where the rest of the morning went. I guess I spent the whole time getting ready for the wedding. A new makeup and hair guy arrived a little after ten. I usually don’t like people fussing over me. I refuse to ever get a massage. It just makes me uncomfortable.
But I liked this guy, mostly because he was fast. He kept telling me what beautiful eyes I have. Such a liar. I know my eyes are pale and kind of dull, not my best feature. But he was trying to be nice, so I didn’t call him on it.
He put a lot of product on my hair. He said it was windy at the top of the mesa, and he didn’t want my hair to blow away. Then he did some nice things with eyeliner that made me look more dramatic, and gave me a lipstick much darker than I’d ever used. It was actually a good look for me.
My dress was simple and not lilac. Marissa had picked lilac for all the dresses the girls in her wedding party wore. For once, I was glad I was going to be an innocent bystander.
My dress was red. Long and simple and not sexy enough to take away from Marissa. But it was red, and I expected a few comments about it.
I was just adjusting the top when Robby burst into my room without knocking. “How do you do this?” he cried. “Harmony, do you know how to do this?”
He waved a black tuxedo bow tie in my face.
He was in a white tuxedo shirt, ruffled in the front, and tuxedo pants with wide suspenders that made him look ridiculous. Thank goodness the jacket would cover them.
“Are you going to wear a cummerbund?” I asked.
“I don’t think that came with the tux,” he said. “I don’t really know what it is anyway.” He pushed the bow tie at me. “How am I supposed to know how to tie this?”
“How am I supposed to know?” I replied. I took it and dangled it in front of me. “Robby, it’s a man thing, you know?”
He grabbed it back. “You’ve got to know. You’re supposed to know things.”
I laughed. “Is that a compliment?” I pulled him toward the door. “Dad will know how to tie it,” I said. “Come on. Let’s ask him.”
Robby pulled back. “I don’t know. I heard them fighting in their room. Mom was screaming at him.”
“About what?”
“I couldn’t hear.”
“Why does everyone get so weirded out before a wedding?” I asked, mainly to myself. I pulled open the door. “Come on. Let’s break up the fight and get Dad to tie your tie.”
So we walked down the hall to their room at the very end. A white-uniformed woman pushed a cart past us, the shelves loaded with trays of cookies and small pastries. I wanted to grab a few off the cart, but I restrained myself.
Robby and I nodded to two of Marissa’s friends, their lilac dresses down almost to the floor, as we passed. “You look gorgeous!” I told them.
Robby and I stepped up to our parents’ door. Silence in their room. The fight must have ended, I hoped in a draw.
I raised my hand to knock—and the door swung open.
Mom poked her head out. Her hair was up, shiny, and I’m sure sprayed just as stiff as mine. She was still in a white hotel bathrobe.
“Go help your sister,” she said before Robby and I could say anything.
“What’s her problem?” Robby said.
“There’s no one helping her,” Mom said. She sounded breathless. I could see she was in a panic. “She’s all alone down there. I don’t understand it.”
“Did you talk to her?” I asked.
“No. She doesn’t answer her phone. She didn’t come down to breakfast. I can’t reach her.”
“Weird,” I muttered.
“Just go,” Mom said. “Go help her. I don’t know if her friends are with her or not. She needs help to get dressed and everything.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“What can I do?” Robby said. “I can’t help her. I need help with this stupid thing.” He waved the bow tie in Mom’s face.
“Okay. You go, Harmony. Help her. Call me on my cell if you need me. I’ll be dressed in another ten minutes.”
She stepped back so Robby could enter the room. The door closed. I stood there for a few seconds. Why weren’t Marissa’s friends helping her? Taylor? Dani? Olivia and the others?
“Sisters should help sisters,” I muttered mockingly. I turned left at the end of the hall and hurried to Marissa’s suite at the far end. I felt the worn carpet under my feet, and I realized I hadn’t even put my heels on yet.
I reached Marissa’s door, took a deep breath, and raised my hand to knock. “Marissa?” I called, pressing my face close to the door. “It’s me.”
No reply.
I knocked three times, pretty hard knocks. “I came to help you, Marissa,” I called. “Do you need help?”
Still no reply.
I pressed my ear against the door and listened. I couldn’t hear any movement in there, no footsteps, no music on, nothing.
“Hey, Marissa?” My voice got shrill. “Open up. Come on. Mom said I should help you.”
Silence.
I grabbed the brass doorknob. Turned it and pushed. The door swung open. “Marissa? Hey—!” I stepped through the short entryway. The suite opened to a living room on the right, the bedroom to the left.
Marissa’s wedding dress was draped over the back of the leather living room couch.
“Marissa?”
I turned and strode to the bedroom. The bed was made. It looked as if it hadn’t been slept in. No clothes strewn about. No cosmetics bag in the bathroom.
My heart starting to pound, I slid open the closet door. The closet was empty.
My throat tightened. I had to remember to breathe normally.
“Marissa? Hey, Marissa?”
She was gone.
I froze there for a moment, the room twirling in front of my eyes. I had to force myself to start breathing again.
This can’t be happening.
And then I murmured out loud, “Get moving. You have to tell Mom and Dad.”
I gripped the door handle, then stopped.
A white envelope lay at my feet. I bent to pick it up. My name was scrawled in red ink on the back.
A note for me? Did Marissa leave me a note?
I tore the envelope open with a trembling hand. I pulled out a ripped strip of yellow paper. I raised it to my face and read the words scribbled raggedly in red ink:
DON’T LOOK FOR ME
