Plot Twist (A Village Library Mystery, #14)

The October light coming through my cottage windows had that sort of golden quality that made everything feel like a memory, even when it was happening. I stood at the kitchen counter, watching dust motes drift through the sunbeams, and smiled. In three weeks, I'd marry Grayson Phillips.

Fitz had already claimed the one patch of sunlight not currently blocked by stacked boxes of Grayson's and my combined book collections. Fitz turned twice, kneaded the worn cushion he was lying on, and collapsed with a sigh of satisfaction. The ongoing renovation of my cottage had displaced him from three of his favorite napping spots, but he was adapting. Cats are amazingly resourceful that way.

There was a light tap on my door. I opened it to find Grayson there holding two cups of coffee from Keep Grounded. He handed me my cup, and I took a quick sip. It was exactly the way I wanted it, with perhaps a bit more cream than many people would consider reasonable.

"Good morning," he said, dropping a kiss on my forehead.

"It is," I agreed. And it was. Despite the plastic sheeting dividing the cottage, despite the sawdust that was determined to settle on every surface, despite the unpacked boxes, it was a very good morning. The sunroom was really coming together, as were the other additions. Our book collections would eventually have a proper home. And in a few short weeks, Grayson would be my husband.

The doorbell rang.

"That'll be Vivian," I said, and tried not to let my shoulders tense.

Our wedding planner swept through the door in a cloud of expensive perfume and professional efficiency. Vivian Cross was impeccably dressed, as always in a silk blouse, tailored slacks, and heels that seemed impractical for a visit to what was basically a construction site and probably cost more than my monthly grocery budget. She was already checking her phone as she walked in.

"Darlings!" She air-kissed somewhere in the vicinity of my cheek. "Sorry I'm a few minutes late for our meeting. I was on a call with a vendor in Charlotte." She glanced around the living room, taking in the boxes, the plastic sheeting, and Fitz sprawled in his sunbeam. "Oh my. You're certainly stuck in that transition phase, aren't you?"

"The renovation should be mostly done before the wedding," said Grayson.

"Mostly," Vivian repeated, with a small smile that suggested she'd heard that before and that it had never ended well. She settled herself on the edge of our sofa, perching, as if she might need to make a hasty escape from the chaos. She pulled a thick binder from her oversized bag. "Well. Let's talk about where we are with everything."

Fitz, ever the diplomat, discarded his sunbeam and padded over to investigate our guest. He wound around her ankles once, then looked up fetchingly at her with the expression that usually earned him love from everyone in Whitby.

Vivian drew her feet back. "Oh. No, no." She waved a hand at Fitz as if shooing a fly. "I'm wearing silk. And I'm allergic. Terribly allergic."

She didn't sneeze. Her eyes didn't water. But Fitz got the message. He gave her one long, sad, unblinking look and returned to his sunbeam with his dignity intact. I liked to think I was a good judge of character. But Fitz was better.

I sat across from Vivian with Grayson beside me on the sofa. This was supposed to be a simple check-in and timeline review. Basically, just final confirmations without anything complicated.

Vivian flipped to a tabbed section of her binder. "So. Centerpieces."

"We decided on simple garden arrangements," I said. "Mason jars with wildflowers and greenery. Sarah Chen is handling it." I said this in the tone of someone providing a helpful reminder. But Vivian should certainly know what Sarah was doing.

"Yes, I have that noted. Although I have a florist in Charlotte coming up with another idea for you. It'll just be something to consider. We'll talk about that later. For now, we'll focus on the Mason jars." Vivian pulled out a glossy photograph, sliding across the coffee table toward us. "I wanted to show you an alternative, though. I think it would really elevate the reception. Crystal centerpieces with formal arrangements. Very elegant and sophisticated."

The photograph showed something that looked like it belonged at a black-tie gala, not a backyard wedding in Whitby. Grayson glanced over at me, as if seeing if I wanted to handle it or have him step in.

"That's beautiful," I said carefully. "But it's not really what we're going for."

"I understand. You want 'simple.'" She said the word the way someone might say 'quaint' or 'rustic,' with a particular tone that suggested she was humoring us. "But I've planned dozens of weddings, darling, and I can tell you that brides often regret not going a bit more polished. When I did the Morrison wedding in Charlotte, the bride initially wanted something understated, and I convinced her to trust my vision. The photographs were stunning."

"We really do want simple," Grayson said. His tone was pleasant, but I could hear the firmness underneath. "Garden flowers and mason jars. That's the vision we're looking for."

Vivian's smile didn't waver, but something flickered behind her eyes. "Of course. It's your day." She made a note in her binder. "Though I do hope you'll at least consider the upgraded linens I mentioned last week. The ones you selected are perfectly fine for a backyard gathering, but not for a wedding of this caliber."

"What caliber is that, exactly?" Grayson asked.

I bit back a smile.

Vivian blinked. "Well. You're both professionals. Grayson, you publish and edit the newspaper. Ann, you're a reference librarian. People will be watching and judging you. You want to make the right impression."

"We want to get married in our garden with our friends," I said. "That's the impression we're going for."

Vivian looked back down at her binder. "Of course." She flipped to a new section of the notebook. "Now, about the menu. I spoke with Jasper, and I have some concerns about presentation. The food itself is fine, I suppose. It's very authentic home-style cooking. But I thought perhaps we could discuss some elevated options. A few sophisticated touches would really make a difference."

My head started hurting. "We love Jasper's menu exactly as it is. That's why we hired him."

Vivian looked at me for a long moment. Then she smiled, a professional smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and closed her binder.

"Very well. I can see you both have a clear vision." The way she said vision made it sound like something slightly embarrassing. "We're meeting at Jasper's this afternoon for the final timeline review. I'll see you there?"

"We'll be there," Grayson said.

Vivian gathered her things, her movements brisk and efficient. At the door, she paused and looked back at us. "You know, I only push because I care about giving my clients the best possible day. When you look back at your wedding photos in twenty years, you won't remember wanting 'simple.' You'll only see what you got."

And then she was gone, leaving a faint trace of expensive perfume and the distinct feeling we'd failed some sort of test.

The door clicked shut. Grayson and I looked at each other.

"So, that went well," he said.

I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it. "Crystal centerpieces. She actually brought a picture of crystal centerpieces."

"For a wedding of this caliber," Grayson said, grinning.

"The caliber where we spend three times our budget on things we don't want."

Grayson walked to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee, since we'd finished ours from Keep Grounded. He came back a few minutes later with cups for us both. I accepted mine with a smile. Somehow, Vivian's presence always made me feel like I needed warming up.

"You know," he said, settling beside me on the sofa, "we could still fire her. We're clearly not seeing eye to eye on the vision thing here. The only reason we sprang for a planner was because the minor details were stressing us out. If our planner is stressing us out, then we're not accomplishing what we wanted."

I shook my head. "I think it's too late to fire Vivian. She's coordinating four vendors, has deposits in her name, and she's good at logistics. The major issue we have with her is her determination to give us a wedding we're not asking for."

"That's not going to happen," Grayson said. He reached out to squeeze my hand. "We'll make sure we're getting exactly what we want. It's our day, no one else's."

I smiled. He looked quite fierce. I brushed his hair out of his eyes. "You're right. And at least this afternoon should go smoother."

"I can't believe we're meeting her again today."

"At the caterer's venue. But Jasper actually gets what we're looking for, so it should be a straightforward review of what we've already decided."

Fitz, who'd remained magnificently unbothered throughout Vivian's visit, stretched luxuriously in his sunbeam. He had the right idea about how to handle difficult people.

"It's too bad we couldn't meet with Jasper this morning instead," said Grayson. "Then we wouldn't have felt like we were spending the entire day with Vivian."

"I know. But Jasper does some sort of...