Page 8 of The Holiday Honeymoon Switch
Barbara doesn’t answer, so Holly tries again. It goes straight to voicemail. “Mrs. Beech, this is Ivy. I’m calling to let you know that Matt has just informed Holly that he no longer wants to go through with the wedding. It’s off. Holly is understandably devastated. I can email the caterer and text the hairdressers and makeup artists. Could you call the venue in the morning to let them know what has happened, and perhaps send out an email as soon as you get this message? I’m working on trying to let as many guests know as possible in our friend circle, and I’m counting on you to let your family know. Could you also please get in touch with Matt’s family, if he hasn’t done so already, to make sure they spread the word, too? Call me when you get this. Please. I’ll be up all night. We can get our girl through this. Thanks.”
She hangs up and goes back out into the living room just in time to hear Holly’s phone ring. Holly holds it up. “Barb.”
Ivy grabs the phone. “Hello?”
“Holly, is that you? What does Ivy mean, the wedding is off? Is she drunk? Is she high? Thatcan’tbe true. It would be such an embarrassment, I don’t know if we’d ever live it down. We’ve spent so much money, we’ll never get any of the deposits back, plus the honeymoon, plus the—”
For a woman from a family who often talks about how their ancestors arrived on theMayflowerwith actual chests of gold—and whose husband inherited a healthy chunk of a shipyard fortune—Holly’s mother is surprisingly opposed to “wasting” cash. Sure, she once spent almost six figures on the abalone for her father-in-law’s retirement party, but Barb had made certain she got thebest possible dealon that rarest of shellfish.
“Mrs. Beech? This is Ivy. Holly can’t talk right now.”
“Put my daughter on the phone!”
“Did you listen to my entire message? Will you call the venue in the morning? And notify the guests you have contact information for—”
“This is not happening!”
Ivy is angry, and she is sad for her friend, and she will probably never understand how someone as lovely as Holly—and her brother, Ted, for that matter—could have been raised by a mother like Barbara, and her father, Ed, who is about as emotionally supportive as an empty lobster tank at Grand Central Oyster Bar. She is also determined not to let her emotions get in the way of doing what she promised shewould do for Holly: Take care of everything. Shield her from these details. “I’m afraid it is happening. And we need to be here for Holly. I’ll work on getting the word out to our friends. You will contact your family members and friends. We’ll divide up the vendors and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
“But—”
“We will talk again tomorrow.” Ivy ends the call.
“You know,” Holly says, her laugh shaky, “sometimes, you scare me. For someone raised by the most peace-loving hippies I’ve ever met—I mean, aside from when your dad starts on one of his rants about corporate America—you do one hell of an impression of Margaret Thatcher.”
Ivy laughs, too, equally shaky. “I will be the Iron Lady for you if I need to be.”
Holly smiles another one of those sad smiles. She picks up the tequila bottle, then puts it down. “This isn’t helping.”
“I’ll make some tea,” Ivy says. “We’re going to get through this, okay? I won’t leave your side until you’re okay again.”
Holly looks thoughtful. “No,” she finally says. “That’s not true. You need to leave for your art retreat, day after tomorrow. Youcan’tstay by my side. Youlovethose trips. Youneedyour art honeymoon.”
Ivy shakes her head. “I’m not going anywhere without you. That’s final.”
“But—”
Ivy holds up a hand. “I would do anything for you. Youknow this. But leaving you on your own right now is where I draw the line.”
“Agree to disagree,” Holly says, which is what they always say instead of arguing. “We can talk about it tomorrow. For now, some tea would be great.”
As Ivy walks into the kitchen to turn on the kettle, she feels her eyes fill with tears, but she tamps them down. If Holly hasn’t cried yet, she isn’t going to, either. She will be as strong as her friend—and when Holly inevitably breaks, Ivy will be by her side to hold her up.
2
Holly
December 17
New York City
Holly bolts upright. “Ahh! We overslept! It’s my wedding day.” Then her brain catches up and she realizes that,no, it’s not her wedding day. Itwasher wedding day. Now it’s…just a day.
She’s on Ivy’s couch—and Ivy has jumped up from the chair she fell asleep in, dazed and panicked at once. “Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!”
Holly squeezes her eyes shut and flops back down on the couch, which is extra wide and comfortable precisely because she stays over so often. She has the same super-comfy couch at her Upper East Side condo; she and Ivy got a discount when they bought two of the same at a furniture store that was going out of business.
“I’m so sorry,” Holly says. “I woke you. And there’sabsolutely no reason for us to be up at…” She sits up again and rummages on the coffee table for her phone to check the time, but comes up empty.
