"Cue nine," Kirsten said.
"Go."
The organ started the processional.
Six bridesmaids stepped into the aisle of the Stone Chapel.
The two grandmothers were still in the vestibule with their ushers.
It was 4:00 PM on Friday, December 18.
There were 42 people at the rehearsal.
Bradford had given the order by email on Wednesday.
Kirsten would run it.
I would watch.
Kirsten stood at the altar rail in a headset with a binder open on the rail.
The spine faced the pews.
v11 — 12/10
She had never swapped it.
Cue 8 seated the grandmothers.
Cue 9 sent the bridesmaids.
She had skipped a line.
Halfway down the aisle, the first bridesmaid met a grandmother coming in behind her.
Everybody stopped.
The officiant lowered his book.
He turned around and found me in the back pew.
Sutton saw him do it.
"Don't look at her."
"She's the help."
Her maid of honor laughed.
Then she stopped.
The grandmother on the left was eighty-one.
She held her usher's arm and waited.
At 4:06 PM, I stood up in the back pew.
"Processional's nine."
"You skipped eight."
Kirsten's face went pink above her mic.
"Bridesmaids, back to the vestibule," I said.
"Grandmothers first."
"Organ, wait for nine."
The bridesmaids turned around.
The ushers walked the grandmothers to the front pew.
All 42 people reset to my count.
I didn't have a beltpack.
I didn't need one.
Kirsten said "Cue nine, go," and this time it was right.
At 4:08 PM, Bradford stood up in the second pew and buttoned his jacket.
"That's what rehearsals are for."
He said it to the whole chapel.
Kirsten tucked the binder under her arm.
She didn't open it again.
At 5:30 PM, Mom found me in the vestibule, stacking programs.
The black dress hung over her arm in a dry-cleaning bag.
"It's been taken in."
"It'll fit now."
She set a card on top of the programs.
It was ivory with gold ink, by the same calligrapher.
Laurel — Staff
On the back, someone had penciled 26.
"By the band," Mom said.
"You'll want to be close."
She held the dress out until I took it.
At 9:40 PM, I was packing boxes in the carriage house.
Eleven boxes were taped and labeled.
Kitchen, books, Dad's records.
The black dress hung on the back of the bedroom door.
I sat on the floor between two boxes and looked at it.
Six seasons.
Three hundred forty-one events.
One dress off the staff rack.
Maybe I was only ever staff.
Then somebody knocked.
Henry stood under the porch light with a manila envelope.
He waited until I stepped back to come in.
"Northfork sent the bank our file today."
"Their counsel asked."
"February 20, 2025."
"Your sister's email."
"7:03 AM, Aspen airport."
"Only the cover changed."
He held out the envelope.
Inside was one photocopied page.
Section 4 — Show Calling
It was page 14 of the signed original.
My footer ran along the bottom.
Two letters sat in the bottom right corner, in blue ink.
DP
They were Mom's initials, right beside my lines.
I'd only ever had my own drafts.
Nobody had initialed those.
In March 2025, my mother had read who calls cues at Bellhaven.
Then she'd signed off on it.
"What do I do with this?" I asked.
"You read it."
"Or nobody does."
He set it on top of the kitchen box.
He didn't stay.
At the truck, he rolled the window down.
"Laurel."
"Read page fourteen."
Then he drove up the lane.
At 10:00 PM, I froze version 14 on my own laptop.
It had 47 cues.
Seven of them had changed since version 11.
Every change had come from one of Sutton's texts.
She'd changed the first-dance song on Thursday.
She'd moved the cake to the Glasshouse, so the cake was now cue 36.
She'd added cold sparks on the dance floor.
There were four smaller changes after that.
In version 14, cue 30 took the floor to black, with sparks on standby.
Cue 31 was the first dance, with sparks on the downbeat.
At 10:05 PM, I emailed version 14 to Kirsten, to Sutton, and to every vendor.
I do that for every event.
The lighting operator confirmed at 10:07.
The bandleader confirmed at 10:08.
Dez confirmed at 10:08 with a thumbs-up.
Kirsten replied at 10:11.
Running v11 per Mr. Thorne. No homework from the help.
The attachment showed as unopened.
I picked up page 14 again.
Line six was where I'd left it.
S.P. hosts. She does not call cues.