Chapter 4: What Martha Said to Her Friend
I didn't sleep that night.
We stayed at the hotel where the reception had been held.
Nick had booked the bridal suite months ago.
It had a window that looked out over the city, and I sat in the chair by that window for a long time after Nick finally fell asleep, watching the lights.
My hair kept catching me off guard.
Every time I reached up without thinking, my fingers found the blunt edge at my neck and I had to start over.
Had to remind myself where I was and what had happened.
In the morning, Nick's phone rang before seven.
He answered it in the other room.
I could hear his voice but not his words.
The call lasted about four minutes.
When he came back, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me.
"That was Diane," he said.
Diane was Martha's closest friend.
The one who had been whispering to her near the exit.
"She wants to meet with us," Nick said.
"She says there's something we need to know.
Something Martha told her last night after we left."
I looked at him.
"What kind of something?"
"She wouldn't say on the phone." He set the phone down on the blanket between us.
"She sounded scared."
We met Diane at a coffee shop two blocks from the hotel.
She was already there when we arrived, seated at a corner table with both hands wrapped around a mug she wasn't drinking from.
She was a small woman in her late sixties, and she looked like she hadn't slept either.
She waited until we sat down.
"I've known Martha for thirty-two years," she said.
"I want you to understand that before I say anything else."
"Okay," Nick said.
"What she did yesterday was wrong.
I told her that.
I told her before the wedding, when she mentioned it, that she was going to regret it."
Nick went still.
"She mentioned it before the wedding?"
Diane looked down at her mug.
"She told me two weeks ago that she had a plan.
I thought she was talking about — I don't know what I thought.
I didn't take her seriously." She shook her head.
"I should have called you.
I'm sorry I didn't."
"What did she say to you last night?" I asked.
"After we left."
Diane looked at me.
She hesitated.
"She said the hair was a message.
Not a tradition.
She made that up on the spot when people were watching.
The real reason—" She stopped.
"She said she wanted to mark you.
Her word.
Mark.
So that Nick would look at you on your wedding night and feel something different about you."
The coffee shop was warm.
I felt cold anyway.
"She said if she couldn't stop the wedding," Diane continued, "she was going to make sure it started with something Nick couldn't forget.
Something that would sit between you."
Nick's hand found mine under the table.
"There's more," Diane said.
"Last night, after you left, she made a phone call.
I only heard part of it.
But she mentioned a name." Diane looked directly at me.
"She mentioned your mother."
I sat forward.
"My mother has been gone for six years."
"I know," Diane said.
"That's why I'm here."
She reached into her bag and placed a folded piece of paper on the table.
"She left this on the table when she went to the bathroom.
I don't think she meant to leave it.
But I took it." She pushed it toward me.
"I think you need to read it before she realizes it's gone."
I looked at Nick.
May you like
He looked at me.
I picked up the paper and unfolded it.
