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Weeks later, Jess sat in a god-awful Humvee limo, recalling the series of questionable decisions and incremental boundary adjustments that had led to her accompanying Diana on a weeklong “pre-wedding planning retreat.” Jess just had to keep reminding herself that the reason for her discomfort was—as with most things—money. Specifically, the Tillard Pecans money, the same money that paid for the aforementioned god-awful limo carting them up the winding mountain from Chickenhawk Valley’s tiny regional airport to the spa.

The sleepy, incongruously named town at the edge of the eastern Tennessee mountains was somehow home to one of the most exclusive, luxurious spas in the country. Dubbed “Appalachia’s Hidden Holistic Gem” by several snobby travel critics, the Golden Ash offered indulgent treatments like customized salt baths and sound baths and mud baths—baths in every substance except water. Then there were the sumptuous villas, Michelin-Star-level food, and decadent wellness programs that drew the wealthy and privileged to this strange Tennessee backwater. And Trenton had managed to book a last-minute weeklong package for four people. Well, Diana had needled Trenton until he booked it. Jess was fairly sure there had been a Faustian bargain involved.

Diana seemed like the type to sell her soul for a seaweed wrap.

That wasn’t fair. Diana could probably wrangle a facial out of it, too.

“Jess, honey, you might want to run a comb through your hair,” Aubrey Porter called from down the bench. “You’re looking a little…”

Instead of finishing her thought, Aubrey just pulled her lips back at the corners and made a face like she smelled spoiled seafood.

Jess tried not to glare down the length of the obnoxiously flashy vehicle at the official planner for a wedding that hadn’t even been made official yet. In an effort to further placate Diana after the sushi-proposal disaster, Trenton had hired Aubrey’s firm, Joyous Occasions, to treat this week as a wedding brainstorming session. And Trenton decided this meant an invitation for Jess to be included as well.

Ostensibly, Jess was supposed to spend her time at the spa gathering details to plan a perfectly personalized, showstopping proposal in a few weeks. In reality, Trenton wanted Jess to spend her spa time arranging those thoughtful details involved in launching the perfect surprise proposal at Diana immediately upon the group’s return from the Golden Ash. It was a risky move on Jess’s part, but she thought Trenton deserved to have some secrets.

The pair of them had made it sound so reasonable, for Jess to put all her other clients on hold while she worked to realize Diana’s vision on fast-forward—to make sure the proposal Diana accepted (whichever version that might be) would set the right tone for her lavish wedding. Diana was intent on using this time to create her “comprehensive matrimonial strategy,” like this was some super fancy corporate retreat. Jess supposed she had to admire the work ethic. And, well, the fee that Trenton was paying Jess was substantial enough to justify the subterfuge. Diana had made sure of that. And Trenton was willing to pay her one-third up front, so yeah, Jess felt the need to humor Diana, even if it meant spending a week in the mountains with these people. From what Jess saw in Trenton, this was as devious and sneaky as he got. Unlike Aubrey…

Aubrey Porter, whom Jess knew by reputation from her own wedding planning days, seemed to deeply resent Jess’s presence. She was making this clear through the age-old Southern classics of unrelenting passive-aggressive bullying and backhanded “compliments,” all done in a saccharine sweet tone that made one question one’s sanity and belief in a greater good. Since her arrival at the airport that afternoon, Jess had coped by keeping count of the “observations” Aubrey had made about Jess’s shoes, her “cute little business,” her lip gloss, and now, apparently, her entire person.

One would think that having attended a girls’ school that resembled something out of Jane Austen’s Game of Thrones , Jess would be accustomed to this sort of interaction. Jess had a tendency to shy from these machinations, keeping a low profile at Wren Hill and Elegance by Ellis. She did not like the idea that she was headed to a secondary location with Aubrey or Diana, but there was very little she could do at this point. She was in the car. This was her life now.

Jess thought that Diana would want to spend this week celebrating her victory over Trenton’s good sense with her bridesmaids , relaxing and enjoying the spa. Surely someone who had clearly spent so much time visualizing her wedding had a full roster of bridesmaids already measured for dresses, ready at a moment’s notice. But when Jess had arrived at the Nashville airport, the only people waiting for her were Diana, Aubrey, and Diana’s cousin, Kiki. This struck Jess as…odd. At school, Diana had her choice of followers, who weren’t friends, necessarily, but people who were scared of what Diana might say behind their backs if they didn’t accept her version of friendship. Years later, she seemed to have a similar array of “besties” willing to pose for selfies with her. But while Jess was scrolling through Diana’s social media in preparation for this week, she realized she didn’t see too many of those girls appear more than once.

That seemed to bode ill for the wedding party count overall.

“Do you need to borrow a comb, Jess?” Aubrey asked pointedly from the other side of the limo. She released a long exhalation through her nose.

The wedding party was Aubrey’s problem, and Jess was going to let her handle it. Jess took her hair elastic out of her shoulder bag and put her thick dark hair in a ponytail with practiced ease. It wasn’t her most impressive look, but it was neat and functional. From across the limo, Aubrey perked her own full mouth into a sympathetic moue. And that girl’s Kylie Lip Kit never wore off.

There certainly weren’t many distractions in the tiny town of Chickenhawk Valley to keep Aubrey from picking at Jess. The town was more of an Appalachian tourist trap, half Branson, half Orlando, all moonshine and bizarro amusements. But Jess did not anticipate Diana wanting to venture to the Pancake Palace or the Museum of Murder Miniatures this week, so she thought she was probably safe.

“I still can’t believe we had to fly commercial,” Diana complained, scrubbing at her hands with a sweet-smelling hand sanitizer. The label on the travel-size bottle was written in Italian. Diana had used it multiple times just since they’d stepped off the plane, as if it would ward off the “middle classness” of the people around them.

The future Mrs. Tillard had spent much of their morning complaining about Trenton’s failure to secure the Tillard company jet for their trip. His father, Trenton the Third, was using it to fly to DC for some sort of agricultural lobbyist meeting. Trenton had at least had the wherewithal to book the whole party into first class for the ridiculously short flight to Chickenhawk Valley—or at least what passed for first class on a plane that seated only forty people .

So basically, the front row.

“It happens to everyone,” Aubrey assured her as Diana pulled a lip gloss in a shiny rose-gold tube from her handbag. Aubrey gasped, her own lip gloss suddenly forgotten. “Is that the new LipStinger? Didn’t I see Chanterelle carrying that on last week’s episode of Housewives ?”

“Isn’t it adorable?” Diana grinned conspiratorially. Despite her family’s fervent worship of old money, it was Diana’s dearest dream to have her own reality show and diet wine label. It said so, right there on her LuxeGram TikTok profile. Diana’s influencer aspirations were an incongruous contrast with the old-money values of her family—and her future in-laws, for that matter. People born to money tended to let it work under the surface for them, with subtlety. It prevented inconveniences like kidnapping attempts. But Diana couldn’t seem to resist flexing Trenton’s money in the most obvious way available. Just look at this giant limo. Jess couldn’t think of a single proper Wren Hill princess who would have taken a car like this to prom even as a joke .

Meanwhile, Diana was still extolling the virtues of her lip gloss, which appeared to contain synthetic bee venom. “Plumps your lips so much, it’s practically a nonsurgical filler. A fraternity brother of Trenton’s is running the ad campaign for LipStinger. He snagged a tube for me before it’s even released in stores. Trenton surprised me with it this morning.”

“Trenton’s going to miss you so much ,” Aubrey assured her. “You know, I see engaged people all the time at work, and I have a sort of gift for knowing when couples have it. You know, that thing that is going to keep them together forever? And with some couples, I just think, why are you even bothering with the wedding? I give it six months, at most. But you and Trenton definitely have it .”

“Aw, thanks,” Diana cooed. “You’re so sweet!”

Was Aubrey laying it on a little thick? Most wedding planners did develop a sixth sense for when couples had “good energy.” But a properly trained wedding planner knew better than to give any opinion about what they’d seen. Ever.

In fact, obsequious behavior like Aubrey’s was part of what had driven Jess out of the wedding planning business in the first place. That and some fairly awful coworkers, constantly competing for their boss’s attention, plum assignments, promotions. It had sucked the joy out of what was supposed to be a joyous occasion. It was right there in Aubrey’s employer’s name.

The very first entry in Jess’s Big Book of Life Plans was Step 1—Quit job to achieve distance from things that ruined what you used to love about it, use life savings to start small business. Step 2—Work, work, work, then work more. Step 3—Profit.

Spending the day with the likes of Diana and Aubrey was sending Jess into an emotional retrograde, and once again, she felt like the weird, gangly girl who was known to have no money and no mom. Telling the other Wren Hill girls that her mother was simply “away” led to a lot of prison rumors, but Jess hadn’t known what else to say. Her mother was a one-woman hurricane season, blowing into Jess’s childhood about once a year, causing chaos, and sweeping back out a few days later, leaving only relief in her wake.

Jess reached up and worried her pearl necklace. Despite Diana’s wardrobe expectations (clearly outlined in an email Aubrey had sent earlier that week), the most expensive things Jess had packed were her great-grandmother’s pearls. Jess wasn’t even entirely sure they were real, despite Nana Blanche’s assurances. Jess had gotten into the habit of wearing them when she needed a confidence boost.

To distract herself, Jess pulled out her cell and dialed the landline for her office. Mavis Kenner, who was technically one of Nana Blanche’s bridge friends, answered on the third ring. In her opinion, answering any earlier came across as “desperate for business.” When Jess opened Bricker Consultants, Mavis offered to help Jess get her office set up. A former New York City paralegal, with a loathing for retirement, Mavis just never bothered to leave. Bricker Consultants started off with a broad range of packages, including those for grooms who could barely afford to have Jess stick a ring in a piece of cheesecake in a mall food court, but over the years, Bricker Consultants’ service packages had become more and more pricey. Sometimes Jess felt guilty about it, but Mavis insisted that humanitarian efforts had no place in a business plan. And as usual, Jess had to admit she was right.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be using your phone in the fancy mud baths,” the sixty-seven-year-old chirped.

“We’re not there yet and my phone is barely getting a signal,” Jess replied. “I’m just calling to remind you that for the next few days, I may not be easily reached. You’re going to have a lot more on your shoulders in terms of communication with clients.”

“Like they’re kicking down your doors.” Aubrey snorted and tried to hide it with a cough. The witch.

Jess ignored her and continued, “So it goes without saying, be nice.”

“I’m always nice,” Mavis groused. “Even with Jeff Laudermilk, who is being really stubborn about his baseball-game plan.”

“Respect the sign, Mavis,” Jess said, sure that Mavis was sitting at her desk next to the well-worn placard on the lilac-striped wall that read “Management Maintains a No-Jumbotron Policy.”

This time, it was Mavis’s turn to snort. Typically, Jess went along with whatever the client wanted. She’d planned proposals by fireworks, proposals by Scrabble tiles, and even a proposal via a customized bowling ball. But she’d seen way too many public Jumbotron proposals go terribly wrong at sporting events to do one herself.

“I know. I’m leading him to our less traumatic sports-based packages, but he’s just sure she’d love for their favorite team to be part of their big moment. I’ll keep you updated,” Mavis said. “Speaking of which, I got the latest group itinerary for your kelp rubs and whatnot. Woo! Diana made that boy shell out for the pricey stuff. She better not let his mama find the receipt.”

“That’s his concern, not mine,” Jess insisted. “Also part of the reason I got out of wedding planning. Mama conflict.”

“Yeah, that’s why,” Aubrey snorted from her end of the limo softly, which Jess dutifully ignored. What in the hell was this woman’s problem?

Jess’s Big Book of Life Plans: Finish this limo ride without going to jail.

“I’ve got it all under control. Now go plan what remains of that awful girl’s proposal and try to relax. But don’t let your guard down around those harpies,” Mavis informed her. “Keep your eyes on the prize.”

Jess snickered. The “prize” was the final payment Trenton’s contract guaranteed, which would be deposited in Jess’s account after the proposal was accepted. If the Anellos were being honest with her, she would be able to buy the TonyCakes building. (With the down payment on a rather terrifying loan. But with the referrals Trenton was sure to give Jess, she would have the business to pay it back.)

The Anellos were happy to sell the building to her, even if it meant they had to wait a bit for her to arrange financing. They knew that their dad had had a soft spot for the girl who had always been short on family, but they wanted a fair price, and Jess respected that. Life didn’t hand stringless gifts to people like her. She would pay her own way.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jess glanced over at Aubrey, who was literally braiding Diana’s long, carefully maintained hair at the moment. “It’ll be fine. Call the spa’s main office if something happens with Nana Blanche.”

“Your contact at the spa, uh, Poppy? She sent me a list of situations that constitute an emergency and what definitely does not,” Mavis muttered. “I don’t think you’ll hear from me unless your grandma decides to get hitched to a card sharp on the riverboat or some such nonsense.”

“I don’t know what old ladies get up to on bridge-themed river cruises,” Jess snickered. “I’m just sorry you couldn’t go along with the group.”

“Good Lord, no. One night a week is fine, but being stuck playing cards with those biddies in a small space for days at a time? I’d rather toast my buns in the seventh circle of hell.” Jess could almost hear Mavis’s shiver over the line. “I’d think you’d take a page out of my book, but you’re locking yourself away in the mountains with those girls.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jess replied as the limo came around one last curve, exposing a sweeping view of the entrance to Golden Ash Spa and Wellness Resort. Her breath caught at the way the trees seemed to protectively embrace the series of low-slung, squarish stone buildings. Water crashed down a nearby hill over tiers of natural rock and into a tranquil fountain. The water flowed down an in-ground trench to frame a courtyard centered around an enormous tree whose leaves were so uniformly and perfectly golden, they didn’t seem possible. Extending beyond the tiny village of bungalows stretched a forest patchwork of fiery reds and golds. The afternoon sun glinted off the nearly silver slate bungalow roofs, giving the place an otherworldly, almost Olympian appearance. Otherworldly, and insanely expensive.

It felt a little bit like…home, which was ridiculous. Jess had never been to this part of Tennessee before. But it felt like she could breathe easier here.

It was probably just the fresh air, she told herself. Or the altitude.

Jess swallowed the lump in her throat and murmured, “I’m gonna go, Mavis. You’ve got this.”

She pressed the “End Call” button and let the image of the Golden Ash’s front gate wash over her. She wanted to commit this moment to memory, the first time she could take in this view of the property. It felt important, monumental.

Yep, Jess was definitely having altitude issues.

The limo rolled to a stop in a gravel cul-de-sac in front of the stone entryway, as if the spa didn’t want something as modern as a motor vehicle setting its tires on the actual property. The grounds centered on a series of green tiers, each occupied by a river stone cabin, reaching up toward a majestic main lodge. The whole of it blended into the landscape as if it had always been there. A team of gangly young people in Golden Ash uniform shirts came rushing out, reaching to take the group’s bags.

Diana slid her sunglasses down her nose and checked her carefully curled auburn hair in the limo’s pull-down mirror. Jess stepped out of the limo—which was not easy in heels on gravel—from a relatively weird angle from the seat. She had a lot of leg to negotiate after all.

Jess forced her eyes away from the stately stone building to the willowy brunette woman standing just inside the gate. Instead of the white-and-gold uniform, she was wearing a long-sleeved maxi dress in dark forest green, perfect for the relatively cool autumn afternoon.

“Hello there!” the woman called, the slight Southern accent lilting her musical voice. “You must be the Helston wedding party. We’re so happy to have you here with us!”

Diana preened, giggling with Aubrey as if they’d just won a game show.

“I’m Poppy Osbourne, one of the many Osbournes you’ll find running around here. I manage operations here at the Golden Ash.”

“So nice to meet you,” Diana said, shaking Poppy’s hand. “I’m Diana Helston, and this is my bridal party, Aubrey, Jess, and of course, my little cousin, Kiki.”

Wait, what? Aubrey and Jess exchanged uncertain glances. Did Diana mean wedding party as in “a physical party of people here to plan my wedding” or…

Jess turned to Kiki. Diana’s cousin was staring into the distance through oversized sunglasses and not responding at all to being introduced. So she wasn’t any help. While she shared the trademark Helston red hair, Kiki had slightly more squarish features than Diana’s delicate lines—not to mention an interpersonal detachment that Jess envied.

Aubrey, having apparently shaken off Diana’s bizarre announcement, passed Poppy a matte coral-colored folder from her leather attaché case. “Now, as discussed, the branding language for the Helston-Tillard wedding is the very essence of the Diana Helston brand itself. To maximize Ms. Helston’s experience, we need you to focus on the words ‘lavish,’ ‘romantic,’ and ‘innovative.’ Oh, and ‘genuine.’?”

Jess stared at Aubrey, slightly agog at her ability to switch conversational lanes. Jess had frequently concocted bridal vision boards, distilling them down to theme descriptions like “contemporary rustic elegance” or “opulent beachy splendor.” Still, she’d never heard of branding language for a wedding.

“I thought your brand was ‘luxe positivity,’?” Jess said as Aubrey pulled poor Poppy aside to go over Diana’s expectations for her stay.

“No, my social media persona is centered around ‘luxe positivity,’?” Diana told her. “My wedding brand is ‘lavish, romantic, and innovative.’ And ‘genuine.’?”

“Can’t forget the ‘genuine,’?” Jess agreed, but Diana didn’t pick up on the sarcasm. At all .

Jess herself felt a little disingenuous, as she knew exactly when Trenton was going to propose. Diana was fully aware of the impending second proposal; the only power Jess (or Trenton) really had was the timing. She didn’t even have the usual protection of secrecy because Aubrey and Kiki knew exactly who she was and what she did.

To preserve some semblance of showmanship and surprise, Jess had arranged for Trenton to meet their returning party at the airport with a limo when they returned from the Golden Ash. The group would deliver Diana to a botanical garden, which would make for beautiful pictures. Trenton would lead her down a path toward an oversized gift box that, when opened, would release butterflies into the garden, where the little pollinators could live out the rest of their limited days comfortably.

Andrew was already scheduled to take photos with a special high-speed lens to perfectly memorialize the butterflies’ flight around them while Trenton plucked the ring from the bottom of the butterfly box and issued his second matrimonial offer. Jess had even hired a special lighting coordinator to help the photographer capture the colors most effectively.

This spectacle would be witnessed by more than one hundred of their closest friends and family members. It was basically a lavish engagement party that Jess was having a hell of a time getting Trenton’s family to RSVP to, but he swore they would be there.

But what would Diana wear to the party? How would Jess guarantee Diana’s favorite (gluten-free, low-carb, calorie-free) foods would be served? Who would style Diana’s hair, and where would they do it? Those were all details she would have to settle this week, under the cover of busywork.