A Bride's Investigative Journalism

Renée spotted the glint of the binoculars before she saw the face behind them. They were pointed directly at the approaching ferry, and held by a short figure that was trying - and spectacularly failing - to look casual about her surveillance.

[What in the world does she think she is doing?]

"I didn't realize bird watching was part of the planned wedding activities."

Renée called out as they approached the dock. Leana shook the binoculars proudly, not even bothering to look sheepish about being caught. Her grin was bright and manic in a way that spoke of too much coffee - and too little sleep.

A state she'd been seen in at university plenty.

"The native species are of course fascinating this time of year. Though the migrating ones are much more interesting."

"Oh, I see. Like the set of legal eagles and the solitary, long unseen ink-fingered ibis?"

"You're still terrible at jokes."

Leana's laugh had an edge of hysteria to it. Her hands kept moving before they were allowed to get off the boat. Adjusting her shirt, checking her phone, fiddling with the binoculars strap around her neck.

The writer took note of a small notebook stuffed with color-coded sticky tabs that peeked out of her purse pocket. Clearly another habit that hadn't changed since college.

Simon offered quick congratulations as he disembarked before making his escape, citing his desire to rest and work. Ayla followed with barely concealed relief that someone else left… after voicing something about needing his input on a brief. Their retreating backs left Renée alone with the bride's boiling laser focus.

[Yeah, I'm sure she noticed whose walk I was… actually watching.]

"So..."

Leana led, but Renée cut her attempt off gently.

"When did you last eat something that wasn't coffee?"

"I... what?"

The question seemed to startle Leana out of whatever official interrogation she'd planned.

"I had a..."

She paused again, finding herself actually having to think about it.

"That's what I thought."

Renée took her arm and noted the slight jerkiness in her friend's hands. She didn't look unhealthy, but she clearly wasn't well-fed or rested today.

"Come on. Show me where they're hiding the food in this place."

"But I want to hear about-"

"The ferry ride? Nothing to tell. Where's your wedding planner, anyway? Shouldn't she be force-feeding you by now?"

"Oh, Carmen's checking on the welcome dinner setup."

Leana waved vaguely toward the resort in the near distance, taking just a little note of how her old friend tersely deflected the conversation. There was a scoop there, she knew!

"So you mainlined another mocha and ran down here. After not eating all morning."

"I just wanted to verify some things about the reception. The chocolate fountain adjustments she mentioned last night. And double-check the fresh fruit display. I looked at the flower arrangements one more time-"

"After 'Carmen' already checked all of that?"

"Yes. She's excellent at her job."

Leana defended quickly, showing that the other woman was either a good friend or had grown on her during this experience. It helped that the shorter woman was always well-meaning - the wedding planner probably wouldn't hate her client after it was over.

[Probably.]

"But?"

"I just like to... help."

"You mean supervise her supervising everything? Like a bridezilla."

"It's called quality control!"

She defended *herself* even quicker, though the bride-to-be finally let her smile turn sheepish. The writer continued to guide her up the path to the resort proper, letting the little admonishing sink in further.

"Carmen's learned to work around me. She gives me the small tasks to keep me busy while she handles the real crises."

"Smart woman. I should take that to heart. You can't be controlled, but you can be redirected. So that means when I tell you to eat something with protein *before* you dive back into 'helping' Carmen, it's just another task on your list, right?"

Leana glanced sideways at her as they walked.

"When did you get so... composed? Not that you were mousy before, but your whole aura is a little different."

Renée patted her arm affectionately. She'd almost forgotten that the journalist was privately into all the "New Age" stuff. A lot of her project topics had been on spiritual phenomena and wellness outside of strictly religious tones.

[Quite likely one of the reasons she grew on me back then. Someone I could probe in friendly banter for thoughts on past lives, the soul as a container for memory, and all other kinds of topics that I became interested in only after I turned 18.]

"Some of us have to grow up eventually. I'm sorry you're stuck… where you are."

She waved her free palm across the top of the shorter woman's head.

"Really? You're going to talk about my appearance right before I get married?"

"Don't invite me with hidden plans next time and I'll be nicer."

"...Next time?"

Renée noticed the way Leana's shoulders tensed and she groaned, realizing what she had just said.

"Hey. You know that's not what I meant. I was talking about *any* sort of invitation, not that you two will… you know, I'm not even going to say it."

[Unless I want to run over that tree and punch it three times. She'd probably choke me to death if I didn't.]

"No, I'm not worried about divorce. I was just thinking that this one might not be good enough. Maybe I'll have to do another one to feel satisfied some day."

"Everything's going to be beautiful tomorrow. You've clearly thought of every detail. Multiple times."

"Have I? Because the weather report shows a twenty percent chance of-"

"Rodriguez."

Renée stopped their motion and stepped in front. She turned to face her university friend after belting out her last name to bring her to attention.

"I might not have been around your life since college, but I remember how you handle big events. You go overboard. You've probably got backup plans for your secret backup planner's backup plans."

The soon-to-be bride's brown eyes were slightly too bright and vulnerable.

"I just want it to be perfect."

"It will be. Even if it rains. Even if the chocolate fountain explodes on his grandmother. Even *if*..."

The writer paused for complete dramatic effect.