Vacation Bride Sample Chapter

Anna Williams flipped open a drawing pad on the arm of a visitor’s chair and stared out the window at the gathering dusk. “It’s snowing,” she told her friend in the hospital bed. “Again.”

Diane barely glanced up. “Of course it’s snowing.” She tapped a button rhythmically on the screen of her phone. “It’s February. It’s Milwaukee. It’s the law.”

“I don’t think there’s a law about snow.” Anna drew the stark square shape of the window. “Not riding your motorcycle on Downer Avenue during a blizzard…there’s probably a law about that.” Her friend had been lucky to escape with a broken leg. “You could have wound up in jail.”

“The cops were very understanding. I told them I ran out of beer.”

“Drunk driving. Good thinking.” A street light sizzled in a halo of steam. Anna sketched it with faint strokes of her pencil. “If you said you’d robbed a bank, there might have been trouble.”

“Ha-ha.”

Stark wires gleamed above the half-empty hospital lot. Anna swept a line over the page.

“Anyway,” Diane continued, “I didn’t tell the cops I’d been drinking. I said I had to celebrate winning a spot on Vacation Bride.”

“I see.” Anna shaded wings of frost inside the windowpane. “You lied.”

“It wasn’t a lie. It was a premature truth. There’s still half an hour to get into the contest. Which reminds me, we’re entering on your phone, too.” Diane held out her palm. “Gimme.”

Anna closed the sketchbook and surrendered her phone. She didn’t mind spending the afternoon with her friend, although she couldn’t really afford to cancel her private swimming students. Diane had sat with Anna through eighteen months of tests, and cardiologists, and bypass heart surgery for Anna’s dad, even after they’d had to close the family bakery and lay off Diane from her job at the shop.

Successful surgery. Anna tapped her knuckles against the wood frame of the chair. Daddy’s fine. If only the snow would let up. If only spring would come so he could get outside and play a few rounds of golf. The doctors wanted her dad up and walking, but icy weather kept him indoors.

“It’s on! Vacation Bride!” Diane’s tablet was propped open to the contest website. “They’re showing clips from the series while they pick the last four women.” She clutched both phones, entering the contest with her thumbs.

Anna scooted her chair close to the bed. For three weeks, she and Diane had watched the live stream of Vacation Bride women making fools of themselves on the internet: eating bugs, carrying stacks of coconuts on their heads, battling to become the bride of Ryan Andersen, the show’s handsome billionaire bachelor. Tonight Vacation Bride would select the last women to join the contest at the Paradise Resort in the U.S. Virgin Islands. There’d be three more weeks of competition and then—assuming Ryan and one of the women fell in love—a magnificent wedding.

Tap. Tap. Diane hit “enter” over and over on both phones. By the time this was finished, she’d need surgery on her thumbs as well as her leg.

A video played showing a bunch of women scuba diving in cages surrounded by sharks. Anna scowled but couldn’t resist the view of crystal-clear water and colorful fish. Palm trees swayed softly behind Bobbie, the show’s glamorous announcer, and she could almost feel the soft, tropical breeze.

The video ended. A text went out announcing the first of the final contestants. Anna had to admit it was great publicity, adding women while the show was in progress. She held her breath.

Nothing happened.

Anna sighed softly. “Those cops are going to come back and arrest you,” she told Diane. “Anyhow, I don’t see why you’re still entering. You can’t compete with a broken leg.”

“It’s destiny.” Her friend resumed tapping. “I’ve got a premonition.”

Diane’s premonitions had lost the Wisconsin lottery one hundred and seventy-six times in a row. They watched a video of bikini-clad women swinging, Tarzan style, from tree to tree, and then another involving a Frisbee and lots of suntan lotion. They weren’t all beautiful. You couldn’t expect that in a show that picked entries at random. But even the plainer ones looked remarkably stylish.

The names of two more contestants were sent out via text.

“Besides,” Diane argued, “we might win on your phone. Think of the sun, the sand, the fact you get to bring whoever you want as your stylist. Imagine how much good a tropical golf course would do your dad.”

Anna imagined her father strong and tan, the way he’d been two years ago, instead of the irritable shadow who’d spent the winter pacing back and forth behind their living-room window.

“It’s eighty degrees in the Caribbean,” Diane said. “All year.”

Anna scowled at the falling snow.

“And if Ryan Andersen doesn’t pick a bride, the contest winner gets twenty-five thousand dollars. I bet you’d face a few sharks in cages for that.”

“I’d face a few sharks out of cages.” Twenty-five thousand dollars would pay a lot of bills. “Although preferably on dry land.”

A video showed women weaving dresses out of seaweed and banana leaves. The contest selected its final competitor.

Diane’s phone chirped. “Oh my god!”

“That isn’t funny.”

The chirp was followed by half a ring. Diane pounced excitedly and then grabbed her cast, wincing. “Yes! Ow! Yes!”

On the Vacation Bride website, a time-delayed Ryan Andersen asked, “Is this my future bride in Milwaukee?”

“Tomorrow!” Diane gushed into her phone. “Five a.m. Mitchell Field. Absolutely. Thanks!”

The call ended. The phone chirped again with a string of text messages.

“You can’t go!” Anna objected. “You can’t compete with a broken leg!”

Diane grinned. “Get my purse.”

Anna leaned over and opened a drawer. “I am not helping you escape from this hospital.” She passed the purse to her friend. “You just had surgery!”

Diane took out four twenty-dollar bills. “This is all the cash I’ve got. But the Paradise Resort is all-inclusive, so you’ll be OK.”

“What are you talking about?”

Diane placed the money in Anna’s hand. “If you need—what am I saying? There’s no if.” She dug out her apartment keys. “Stop by my place and grab some clothes. Take the gold sandals. They look great on you.”

Was she insane? For one instant, Anna imagined taking her dad on vacation, but then she crossed her arms, shaking her head. “I can’t impersonate you. It’s fraud!”

“Who said anything about impersonating?” Diane held up the phone. For the first time, Anna realized which one she’d been talking into. “You’re the one who got picked.”

“I couldn’t.” Anna felt dizzy.

“You could,” Diane answered. “You did. And there’s barely twelve hours before the flight. So get the heck out of my hospital room, go home, and tell your dad to pack!”

A string of chirps came from the phone. Anna watched messages scroll past providing airline confirmation numbers, explaining how to get to the U.S. Virgin Islands. She was allowed to bring one personal stylist, all expenses paid, plus as many suitcases as she liked.

“Good grief.” Anna wasn’t sure she even owned a suitcase. “I can’t believe it.” She had no interest in appearing on an internet reality show, much less winning a rich husband. And yet…. Anna glanced up. Outside the small square hospital window, the night was full of snow. Dad needs a vacation. “Looks like I’m going to the Caribbean.”

“No kidding, Sherlock. Now get a move on!”

Anna walked slowly to the hospital door, clutching Diane’s eighty dollars. “Thanks for this.” Between her dad’s medical bills and their monthly expenses, the only thing Anna could get out of an ATM was hollow laughter. “I’ll pay you back.”

“I know you will,” Diane replied, grinning. “Because once you’re rich, you’re going to reopen your father’s bakery and triple my salary!”