Page 91 of My Best French Wedding

Another group left, chattering about finding someone with a boat. Corinne made an exasperated noise.

“Dude, everybody is going.” It was clear she was talking to Walter, and Walter only. “We should see if we can join those guys. Drugs! Smuggling! Gators! That’s real news.”

Hildy was on the last section of the paper, a few thin pages away from the classifieds. She split her focus betweenCommunity News and the conversation unfolding between Walter and Corinne. If he ditched Hildy now, she’d have no choice but to fall in with another group, where she’d be at the bottom of the pecking order. They’d probably have her ordering lunch and checking facts.

Her finger stilled near the bottom of the page while she waited for Walter’s response.

“I’m sticking with Hildy,” he said.

“Good luck with that. Wait up,” Corinne called after a departing group, not wasting another second on either of them.

“Thank you,” Hildy said. They were the last two left. “You won’t regret it.”

She slid the newspaper over to him, tapping the relevant text.

“It’s a wedding announcement.” The frown was audible in his voice. Was Walter being a snob because a wedding was too froufrou and feminine to be worth reporting on? If he turned out to be a closet misogynist, this partnership was going to be over before it started.

“And?” Hildy prompted. “Did you read it?”

“‘So-and-so and so-and-so, together with their families, are delighted to announce their wedding, which will take place at Disnée World’—” He looked up from his read-aloud. “D-I-S-N-É-E? With an accent? Is that a typo?”

“Keep going,” Hildy urged.

“‘Disnée World,’” he repeated, “‘located in the fifth-floor cafeteria at First Presbyterian Hospital.’ Huh.” His frown was different now, more intrigued than worried. “‘After the ceremony, Carlee will complete her residency in oncology and Carlton’… Is it not weird that their names are Carlton and Carlee?”

“You’re burying the lede.” She flicked her fingers at him to go on.

“‘And Carlton will continue treatment for kidney cancer.’” His eyes met Hildy’s. “Shit. Do you think that’s how they met?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out.”

Walter glanced at the story again. “It’s happening this afternoon.”

“Yep. Let’s get cracking.” Hildy tucked the folded newspaper under her arm before grabbing her bag and starting for the door. Walter hurried to catch up.

“We’re crashing a wedding?” he asked, pitching his voice low.

“No, we’re going toinsinuateourselves into a wedding reception,” she corrected. “With our charisma and charm.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Hildy’s mouth froze in anOof surprise, which she tried to play off with a hair toss. “Why, thank you.”

29Walter

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE PRESCOTT-SCHAFER WEDDING

TAMNIÈS, France—“So we worked on a story together. A thing that happens every day, in newsrooms all over the world. Whoop-de-do.” Hildy twirled a finger in the air. “It was a long time ago.”

“It was more than that.”

She leaned back on her elbows, legs crossed. “Do tell.”

It felt like a dare, as if Hildy was waiting for him to say the wrong thing so she could kick him out. Walter edged the narrative forward, a man walking on an icy sidewalk.

“We went to a wedding together. And it was uplifting and beautiful and meaningful.” He could see Hildy getting ready to call him out for being a sap, so he added a pinch of salt. “Also, a bit strange.”

“Yeah. Weddings are like that.”