Page 2 of The Wedding Twist

Then, the world weighs heavily under a global pandemic, and things are slow even after reopening. The yearly insurance-company inspection shows major repairs are needed on the lodge in the coming years. Years of rolling out dough for morning pastries has caused arthritis in Jeannie’s wrists. Everett can’t seem to leap out of bed with the same energy as he used to.

Jeannie and Everett are tired.

Over lunch one day in early April, over forty years after opening the Butterfly Lake Lodge, they agree to share the news with their girls.

It’s time to sell.

Chapter One

Present Day

“For goodness’ sake.Just come in,” Celeste grumbled after the second round of knocks sounded at the door of the third-floor turret room. She’d been lying on the bed in the lodge’s smallest but coziest guest room for the last two hours, but even the heavyweight merino-wool blanket she’d pulled over her head couldn’t keep out the intrusion.

Judging by the tentative raps against the door, coupled with the persistence of the knocker, Celeste knew…

A)that it was her youngest sister, Quinn, and

B)better than to ignore her.

As the youngest of the McCarthys, Quinn had spent her whole life showered with attention and wasn’t about to be disregarded.

Celeste moved the blanket away from her face and watched as the door to the room opened slowly and Quinn poked her head in, with her mop of short curly brown hair and vintage round glasses framing concerned and teary eyes. “I come bearing poppy-seed loaf,” she whispered, holding out a plate of Celeste’s favorite dessert and taking a small step inside. Quinn set the plate on the bedside table, then slid a bottle of amber liquid out of the pocket of her wide-leg jeans, showcasing it like a game show host. “And Fireball. Ta-da!”

Despite the pit in her stomach and puffiness of her eyes, Celeste couldn’t help but grin. “An odd combination,” she said. Odd but thoughtful, as always with Quinn, who was likely feeling just as crummy as she was. Celeste shifted over and patted the mattress next to her.

Quinn plopped down onto the bed beside her, then shimmied over and put her head on Celeste’s shoulder. “How long have you been up here for?”

From the queen-sized bed, they had a postcard-perfect view of the fondant-iced crest of the Rocky Mountains against the pale gray late-afternoon sky. The flickering gas fireplace was keeping the room cozy. Celeste really just wanted to be alone, but her little sister was like the human version of a stuffie—soft, innocent and oh-so-snuggleable.

She kissed Quinn on the head and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “A while.”

Quinn propped herself up on her elbow, unscrewed the bottle of cinnamon-flavored whisky and took a swig, then passed it to Celeste. “So, they’ve told you, I heard. I was last up. And Elodie and Ava each found out last night, over FaceTime.”

Now the missed calls from her other sisters the night before made sense. She’d been exhausted after turning over a full house that weekend and had sent the calls to voicemail and passed out by nine o’clock.

“Yup,” Celeste said and took a small sip, the alcohol burning her throat as it went down. She coughed and winced. “Ugh. I can’t believe we used to drink this stuff.”

“Used to?” Quinn said. “Are you forgetting Marilyn and Tyler’s wedding?”

“I believe that was Elodie and Ava,” Celeste said. The two middle McCarthy sisters had taken full advantage of the open bar on the night of their cousin’s wedding this past summer at the lodge, and Celeste had been on Advil and Gatorade duty the next day. Given the phone call she’d received only hours before the wedding from Matt, telling he was breaking things off and wouldn’t be coming as her date to the wedding, it was surprising she hadn’t been the one nursing a hangover.

“So…” Quinn said. “What do you think?”

“I think they’re being ridiculous.”Ridiculousdidn’t even sum it up. The idea of her parents selling the Butterfly Lake Lodge after forty-five years, when their health was fine—more than fine, actually; Everett and Jeannie were often cited as the gold standard, #SeniorGoals—was nothing short of shocking.

Hours earlier, right after checkout, they’d closed the door to the inn’s office, where Celeste had been looking over their reservations for the upcoming week, and given her the news.Time to retire. Putting the lodge on the market.They’d had enough anyway, Jeannie had said, waving her hand in the air like it was no big deal, like she was declining dessert after a five-course meal. Like it wasn’t going to completely shatter their eldest daughter’s life.

Celeste had tried to remind them what keeping the lodge in the family had meant to Jeannie’s grandparents, way back when they had gifted the lodge to Jeannie and Everett for their wedding, but her appeal to their heartstrings had been in vain.There was only one of me, Jeannie had reminded Celeste.There are four of you. That makes things a lot trickier.

Plus it was perfect timing, they’d said. The lodge wasn’t in disrepair necessarily, but in the next decade major work would need to be done on the roof and the foundation and new windows were likely needed on the entire south-facing side of the building. It would cost a small fortune to do all the work necessary to keep the place going.

Now not only did Celeste no longer get to keep up the illusion that her parents would be around forever, but the lodge, which she loved and where she’d pictured herself working for the rest of her life, had a very uncertain future without the two people who’d been so instrumental to its success.

Whoever the new owners are will want to keep you on, honey, Jeannie had said.

No one knows this place better than you, Everett had assured her.We can even make your employment a condition in the sale agreement.

But Celeste knew better. New ownership meant new ideas, new traditions, new blood. With her dual major in history and comparative literature from the University of Victoria, she had no formal training in helping to run a business. She’d just been lucky enough to be born into one.

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