Liz looked away as her father kissed his bride, making the union of the Benjamin and Price families official in the eyes of both God and the law.
She held her breath as the couple marched back down the aisle, hand in hand. And she didn’t laugh with the other guests when her father leaped up and attempted to click his heels together in glee.
After what felt like an eternity of nodding, smiling, and greeting the guests as they filed through the receiving line, a gleaming black limo came to collect the wedding party and drive them to the banquet hall for the reception.
The reception venue was decorated beautifully, like a scene straight out of a fairytale. A mirrored placemat, glass dish, and crystal goblet adorned each place setting. Even the silverware shone with added bedazzlements on their dainty handles.
An oblong, silver stage rose several feet above the floor with four throne-like chairs set around a thin table. Liz looked back to her father, but he didn’t notice her worried expression as he and his bride ascended to the stage and took the two middle seats. The waiting guests clapped and cheered, ready for the next portion of this evening’s spectacle.
Next, Valeria and Victoria took their seats on either side of the couple. Finally, her father noticed the missing chair and motioned for Liz to join them on the stage.
“Scooch, scooch,” he told Valeria so that they could squeeze in one more place between her and Liz’s father. It was an uncomfortably tight fit. Especially since the slight felt intentional. It was crazy to assume that her new stepmother would purposely exclude her, but how could a woman known for her expert organization skills miss something so obvious when planning her own wedding?
It wasn’t just the stage arrangement, either.
It was the dresses that clashed with Liz’s coloring and build, while perfectly complementing Victoria and Valeria’s. It was Vanessa’s insistence upon having the wedding on the same day as an important qualifying race for the Iditarod, meaning her new husband would have to miss out on the officiating duties he so loved. And it was the fact that Liz’s shoes—the ones Vanessa had insisted match those of her girls—had been ordered a size too small.
The whole day was terribly uncomfortable for Liz, and yet…
Her father seemed so, so happy.
She smiled, nodded, did whatever she could to be supportive until, at last, the dinner portion of the evening had ended and the band announced the first dance.
Liz flew away from the stage as fast as her aching, pinched feet would carry her and straight over to table thirteen where her best friends, Scarlett and Lauren, sat with the special men in their lives.
“Everything’s so nice,” Lauren said with a placating smile.
“Yeah, too nice for her,” Scarlett grumbled. Her friend and new stepmother had practically come to blows over Vanessa’s interference at the library where Scarlett had once worked. Back then, Vanessa had used her strategic budget cuts to drive a wedge between Scarlett and her fiancé, Henry—a wedge that had almost kept them apart for good.
But love always finds a way, Liz reminded herself. Hopefully it would for her father and his new bride as well.
“Be nice.” Henry pulled Scarlett to his side and kissed her on the cheek. “I don’t like her much, either, but she’s Liz’s family now. Besides, I’m sure she was under an enormous amount of pressure from her constituents.”
“To be fair, she’s the one who chose politics in the first place, but sure. Whatever. I’ll be nice.” Scarlett shook her head and made a silly face, lightening the burden on Liz’s heart.
“You look… stressed,” Lauren’s husband, Shane, said. “Want me to grab you a drink?”
“Good idea. Thanks,” Liz answered, realizing just how much a glass of wine might help to quiet her nerves so she could maybe actually enjoy the rest of the evening.
Just then, the band front man announced an open dance floor and invited everyone to come and join the bride and groom for a fun, up-tempo number. Scarlett and Henry exchanged awkward glances, which made Liz wonder if they perhaps were thinking of the night they’d first met at the Miners and Trappers’ ball nearly two years ago.
Liz waved her hand at them. “Go. Go dance. All of you. I’ll get my own drink and join you in a bit.”
Lauren and Scarlett both gave her quick hugs, then led their partners across the hall and onto the dance floor.
Liz had never much been enamored of the idea of love growing up, but now she craved it in a way she hadn’t before. Her friends, her father, all the important people in her lives had somebody.
Liz, on the other hand, only had herself.
Well, until a stranger appeared at her side, seemingly out of nowhere. She assumed he was just pausing in his search for someone across the room, but no. He nodded at Liz as he closed the distance between them.
“Liz Benjamin?” he asked, extending his hand toward her. The way his green eyes fixed on her implied he knew exactly who she was, though Liz had never seen this man a day in her life until now.
“Yes? Can I help you?” She was too puzzled by his sudden appearance to remember her manners. She’d already been forcing them all night. Now, she was too tired to care any longer. And her feet hurt too much for her to so much as fake a smile.
The man didn’t seem to notice Liz’s foul mood, or perhaps he’d been expecting it. His smile remained glued in place as he delivered his next line. “I’m hoping so. My name’s Dorian Whitley, and I’m here covering the event for the Anchorage Daily News.”
“The event?” She frowned at him, wishing he would just go away. “Is my dad’s wedding some political thing now?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s for the society page. And I’m still waiting for you to say hello.” He chuckled and reached his hand toward her again, waiting until she finally took it in greeting.
“Yes, of course. Hello.” She shook his hand once, twice, a third time. Still he didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he tugged her in closer to him.
His green eyes flashed. Liz wondered why the color reminded her of slime and serpents rather than emeralds or something pleasant. Was she projecting her bad mood onto everyone and everything she encountered, or was her subconscious picking up on something and trying to warn the rest of her?
Dorian smiled again. Smooth. Practiced. Like perhaps he was in a play. “I have some questions. Just little facts I was hoping you could verify for my piece. Mind if I ask you over a dance?”
Liz thought about this for a second. She didn’t want to dance, didn’t want to spend time with this peculiar man, didn’t want to be here at all.
But then again…
Dancing and playing merry could help her blend in better with the rest of the wedding guests. Surely that would make Vanessa happy. The puff piece Dorian planned to write would make her happy, too.
And if Vanessa was happy, Liz’s father would be happy.
“Sure, I guess,” Liz answered, trying to keep her voice light as she did. She did, however, insist upon one condition. “Mind if I leave my shoes here? My feet are killing me.”