The Guest List

by Lucy Foley

But it’s all about the moment, a wedding. All about the day. It’s not really about the marriage at all, in spite of what everyone says.

See, mine is a profession in which you orchestrate happiness. It is why I became a wedding planner. Life is messy. We all know this. Terrible things happen, I learned that while I was still a child. But no matter what happens, life is only a series of days. You can’t control more than a single day. But you can control one of them. Twenty-four hours can be curated. A wedding day is a neat little parcel of time in which I can create something whole and perfect to be cherished for a lifetime, a pearl from a broken necklace.

The note was delivered through our letter box three weeks ago. It told me not to marry Will. To call it off.

So this is what worries me. Why would Will keep a friend like Johnno around simply because of a shared past? Unless that past has some sort of hold over him.

Femi’s a surgeon, Angus works for his dad’s development firm, Duncan’s a venture capitalist—whatever that means—and Pete’s in advertising, which probably doesn’t help his coke habit.

But it’s possible to hate your body when you’re thin, too. To feel like it’s kept secrets from you. To feel like it’s let you down.

But that’s nostalgia for you, the tyranny of those memories of childhood that feel so golden, so perfect.

It’s a strange thing when you consider that the dead on this island far outnumber the living, even now that some of the guests have arrived. Tomorrow will redress the balance.

In my experience those who have the greatest respect for the rules also take the most enjoyment in breaking them.