Page 23 of The Holiday

“Ruby,” Heather croaks, reaching out a hand in Ruby’s direction. “Don’t go.”

Ruby looks around, feeling the panic rise within her. Heather’s dress hangs from a metal rack beneath a high window that lets in a flood of natural light. The walls are painted a soft, buttery yellow, and the linoleum floor shines beneath their feet. There is an uncomfortable looking futon couch pushed against one wall. It’s shrouded in a navy slipcover, and on it sits a duffel bag that must belong to Heather, as a curling iron, a pair of shoes, and a makeup bag are peeking out.

“Honey,” Ruby says, going to her and kneeling before the bride, who is sitting on a folding director’s chair that looks creaky, at best. “You have to tell me what’s wrong. The wedding is in two hours, and we need to decorate the church, get everything set up for guests to arrive, test the music, and make sure that the reception site is set up, too.” Ruby takes Heather’s cold hands in her warm ones and shakes them lightly so that Heather will meet her gaze. “You have to tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it and we can start moving on things.”

The days that Ruby had spent in bed over Christmas come flooding back to her, and she has the sudden sensation that she’s overdoing things, but she pushes the thought away. Being sick is no excuse right now; there’s a wedding to put on, and she needs to get this bride back on her feet and moving forward.

“It’s not Dave,” Heather finally says with a deep shudder. “It’s his daughter.”

Of course it is, Ruby thinks. She’d met the daughter briefly at The Scuttlebutt, and she’d sensed a mild current of disapproval running through the woman. She’s known people like Celia before, and she also understands that, from Celia’s perspective, a much younger woman appears to have strong-armed Celia’s beloved father into moving to some far-flung island to spend all his money while she waits for him to die.

But Ruby knows Heather, and she understands that her heart is truly one that falls hard. Love is love to Heather, but she just happens to favor older, more established men.

"Heather," Ruby says, looking up and into her eyes from her kneeling position. She winces. "I want to walk you through this, but I think this linoleum just killed my knees."

"Oh, god!" Heather springs to her feet, offering Ruby a hand. "Get up. Here." Heather helps Ruby back onto her feet and they sit on the futon together, still holding hands.

"Okay, so his daughter is giving you trouble," Ruby says, leaning back on the couch and giving Heather her full attention. "What did she say?"

"She's basically accusing me of being a money-grubber. A gold-digger." Heather shakes her head back and forth like it might dislodge the thought from her brain. "I can't...Ruby, that's not who I am!”

"No one who knows you thinks that," Ruby assures her. "I promise you."

"What if Celia has gone to Dave and told him what she thinks of me? What if he changes his mind and doesn't show up here today?" She looks up at the water-stained ceiling of the tiny church dressing room. "What if he tells me he can't go through with the wedding because he thinks I'm just here for his money?"

Ruby doesn't want to say anything without giving her words some thought before she speaks, so she sits quietly for a moment, holding Heather's hands in hers. "Listen." She levels her gaze on her friend. "I've met a lot of people in my life, and I like to think I have decent powers of observation. Now, mind you, I missed some big clues when it came to my own husband's faithfulness, but I think it goes without saying that sometimes we're too close to the fire, can't see the forest for the trees, yadda yadda." Ruby lets one hand flutter through the air and then grabs onto Heather's again. "But when it comes to looking at other people--those I'm not married to or in love with--I can see what's happening. And I've seen you and Dave together: it's real love. On both sides of the equation."

Heather sniffles. "So you don't think he sees me as a gold-digger?" Her eyes are wide as she looks to Ruby for confirmation.

"I do not, because you are not."

Heather looks into her lap. A single tear courses down her cheek. "I love him so much."

"I know you do, sweetheart," Ruby says. Her heart swells as she looks at Heather's tangible sadness and anguish. She's such a lovable person--how can Celia not see this? But of course Heather isn't just a nice woman in Celia's eyes; she's the woman who is, effectively, replacing Celia's mother. And certainly there's a ton of emotion wrapped up in that.

"I just want him to show up here today in his suit and tie, ready to say 'I do' without reservation."

"He will," Ruby says firmly, squeezing Heather's hands and then letting them go as she stands. "We need to get you ready to see your groom, girl. He's going to be here and waiting at that altar, so let's start by tracking down some ice so you can do a little de-puffing." Ruby points vaguely at Heather's face as she backs out of the room and walks into the tiny kitchen there in the back of the church.

"Here you go," she says, returning with a bag of ice. "Put this under your eyes while I go out and get the decorations going. I hear the other girls out front."

Heather does as she's told, resting her head on the back of the couch as she places the Ziploc bag full of ice over her eyes.

Out in the nave of the church, Marigold, Sunday, Molly, and Vanessa are waiting, chattering excitedly about flowers and ribbons as they point here and there and talk decor.

"Should we get started by putting a bow at the end of each pew?" Sunday asks, standing in place to demonstrate where she wants to affix a big white satin bow.

"Yes, definitely," Ruby says absentmindedly. "But ladies, we’ve got trouble brewing."

The other women fall quiet as Ruby slides into a pew and sits facing them. "Heather is back there in tears because she thinks Dave's daughter is going to wreck the wedding somehow."

"Uh oh," Molly says.

"Indeed. This is going to take some diplomacy to handle, so we need everyone to pitch in." Ruby looks each of them in the eye in turn. "Sunday, I want you to talk to Celia. You're good at navigating situations with tough cookie daughters." They exchange a long look, and Ruby knows that she and Sunday are both thinking of the long, now healed-over, feud between Sunday and her oldest daughter, Cameron. "I've got some decent diplomatic experience, so I think I'll check in with Dave and take the temperature there. Marigold, Vanessa, and Molly--can the three of you handle the inside of the church while Harlow and Athena decorate outside?"

The women all spring into action, which makes Ruby's heart rate slow a few paces. They've got a lot of ground to cover, and not a lot of time to do it.

"Where you think I'll find this wicked stepdaughter?" Sunday asks, but not before glancing around to make sure they're still alone in the church.

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