Sheets of tissue slowly rippled in the air, falling to the hardwood floor without a sound as the bride's mother delicately lifted the lace veil from the box. Once they were lost in the final moments of preparations, touching up makeup and shedding the last few tears, I left the dressing room and climbed the steps within the musty hallway to reach the heavy wooden door that blocked me from the pouring rain outside.

Checking the time on my watch, I calculated how long it would take to get across town for the reception before the bridal party and their guests. Behind me, music swelled within the church. Proud of another successful ceremony, I lifted my hood over my head and jogged through puddles to my car.

Shivering once I was locked inside, I started the engine and crossed town, answering the phone on speaker when my assistant called.

"You are now double booked for next month," she told me.

"I can do both," I assured her, knowing I could. "But how did that even happen?"

I thrived in structure, the predictability making it impossible for something to happen, something to interrupt someone's special day. I wasn't always that way, though. It started when I had to forcefully distract myself to make it through life. Years after my turning point, I had created a booming business for myself, with a reputation to uphold. We had backup plans for our backup plans, but a mishap like this hadn't happened since I began planning weddings.

I listened to Josie explain how we ended up with two weddings scheduled for New Year's Eve, already having prepared myself to never spend a holiday on my own. Why would I want to feel as alone as I was, when I could use that time and energy to bring others together?

Arriving at the reception, I rushed in and checked everything. Musicians were practicing, servers prepared drinks and appetizers on trays, and staff did a final check of tables and decorations, at my insistence. There was never time to spare. In my opinion, that meant something was wrong. Once certain everything was without flaw, I left. Venturing back into the rain, I headed home, where my companion through the weekend would be work.

Time slowed slightly as I stepped from my shower and wrapped inside my plush robe, spending an extra moment in front of my mirror, amazed at how the expensive foundation I'd worn all day hid my imperfections. The dark circles from no sleep, the lines chiseled into my cheeks from constantly smiling about someone else's happiness... Snapping from the moment of distraction, I moved to my bedroom, where I plopped onto the mattress and opened my laptop. Tucking my feet under the blanket, I watched the alerts flash on my screen. A stream of water drizzled from my wet hair, over the collar of my robe and onto my chest as I sat, frozen, reading the final message that popped onto my screen.

Ms. Daly,

If you've read the papers, I'm sure you've seen one of my children is engaged. Are you free for coffee this week?

Best,

Mathilde

Best, like her request to meet hadn't resurrected an entire lifetime I fought to shield. I could never bury it, nor did I want to. At least, my heart would never forget.

Thinking it best to overthink myself into insomnia, I didn't respond to Mathilde's email until asking Josie to handle it the following morning. My foundation barely covered the dark circles I paid so much for it to mask, when I made myself presentable for a morning of virtual meetings. I hadn't yet read the papers, as Mathilde assumed I had, so I flipped through as though almost hoping her email was a strange dream, and I would see an advertisement for an estate sale instead.

The ring of Josie joining our video conference distracted me. We discussed the accidental double-booking for New Year's Eve next month, making a plan in no time, and then she told me about Mathilde.

"She seemed nice enough," Josie explained, clearly staring at her reflection on her screen while fixing her hair. "Although, she did remind me a few times that it was you with whom she wanted to speak."

"Why?" I coughed, trying to compose my nerves.

Josie shrugged. "I handled it. You're booked through year's end, anyway. I can meet her this week between venue tours."

I stifled my resentment, trying not to wonder why Mathilde would've called on me to consider planning a wedding for her family.

"Violet?" Josie questioned, almost tapping her own screen to get my attention. "Are you sick?"

"What?" I blinked. "Um. No. Where are you meeting her?"

Jose groaned playfully, but I had little amusement for any of the circumstances. It wasn't Josie's fault, but history's.

"I promise," she assured me. "I have it under control. We're meeting at," she paused, flipping through her notes, "Saint Brendan's. It's a church down—"

"He's the patron saint of sailors," I interrupted. I glanced at the coffee mug next to my laptop, knowing it cooled just like my blood as I couldn't help but let it all get to me.

"She mentioned something about her son being in the Navy," Josie continued. "They're looking for quick turnaround." Her son? I choked, trying to find a way to breathe and get through my meeting with Josie. "But, like I said, I have this one under control."

Good, because I don't. And, fortunately, the busy afternoon kept me from festering. She could open the past, but I would focus on the present. But, there I was, going against my better judgment and allowing Josie to pursue Mathilde as a client. We have to cancel.

The two weddings scheduled for New Year's Eve were big enough, with guest lists and agendas that kept us busy. A few days after my meeting with Josie, I was already finalizing plans with the venues...and preparing an email for her to send, regretfully declining Mathilde's request that we meet.

She wasn't having it. I realized her efforts to pour abrasive salt in my slowly-opening wound when I stepped out of my building to see Eleanora Morgan plant her feet on the crimson doormat. Her diamond earrings glistened while bobbing from her sagging earlobes as she approached me, her manicured hands reaching from the thick cuffs of her sleek fur coat.

Out of fashion, but not out of money, everything about Eleanora's presentation sickened me. I tried telling myself it was that, and not the fact she was who she was.

"Darling," she cooed. "It's been so long."

"Hello, Eleanora." I replied, letting her kiss each of my cheeks in her elaborate greeting. "It's been ten years." And, yet, just like yesterday.

"You still live here," she noted, staring up at the winding levels of the fire escape. "Cute. Your doorman has changed, though." Eleanora eyed Michael as if her stare could consume him. He was handsome, but her reaction was over the top. Thankfully, he didn't notice her gaping.

"It's nice to see you," I clenched my jaw, trying not to cry at the memory her presents churned, "but I really should be going."

"Don't you want to know why I'm here?" I ignored her, walking around the width her coat took up along the sidewalk. "Violet, please don't make a scene."

I spun around, bracing for her to smash into me. "Respectfully, Eleanora, I own a very successful business that follows a schedule, so I must go. And," I lifted her hand from my shoulder, "I don't need to know why you're here."

"It's about the wedding, of course," she continued, while also ignoring my effort to leave. "My sister suggested you declined her request that you work with her. Surely, we can put the past behind us, and conduct business?"

"Miss?" Michael called for me, giving me another chance to walk away from Eleanora. "There is a package for you to sign inside."

I nodded, falling more in love with my doorman every day. There wasn't a package. Michael was simply amazing, and he knew how to protect me from obnoxious people like Eleanora Morgan. Slipping by her, I went back inside.

"Tell me when she's gone," I quietly asked of Michael. He offered a wink and tipped his hat before returning to his post. From inside the lobby, I texted Josie, who was already on her way to the first venue for me. I made a mental note to buy Josie and Michael something incredible for the holidays, as they saved my life twice in one day.

Eleanora married a disgustingly wealthy banker, forgetting all social norms after hiring a staff that ran her life. Therefore, I should've expected she would be obnoxiously invasive, and that her entitlement would've made it hard for her to understand my schedule, and the mere fact I did not want to share space with her.

I was a grown woman, with a successful business, and there was no reason I should've remained hostage in my own building. Except for the fact my past was just dropped on me like a bucket of ice water. Balling my fists, I tried to ground myself with some affirmations, but they wouldn't stop the unease rising in my stomach.

I'm capable. Ten years has gone by. I'm a new person. I can do hard things. All the usual reminders, but Mathilde and Eleanora seeking out my wedding planning business for his wedding was a crowbar ripping open my casket.