CHAPTER FOUR

April"s return to the lobby was met with the discordant soundtrack of familiar voices raised in contention. Her mother, Caroline, sat rigidly on her chair, her lips pressed into a thin line, while Richard, her father, stood with one hand animatedly gesturing, his face flushed with the heat of argument. They seemed oblivious to the world around them, their battle of wills creating an island of turmoil amidst the gentle hum of wedding preparations.

Taking a deep breath, April stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the pair. The tension in her shoulders betrayed the effort it took to remain composed. "Are we finished here?" she asked, her voice cutting through the air like a lifeline thrown into turbulent waters. "There"s a wedding happening, remember? Mine."

Her words acted as a pause button, and suddenly the lobby fell eerily silent. April watched as her parents" expressions shifted, their indignation cooling into something resembling shame. It was clear that they hadn"t considered how their actions might taint what should have been a weekend of celebration.

"Can we agree," April continued, her tone firm but weary, "to save these discussions for a more appropriate time—not during my wedding weekend?"

When she was met with silence and blank stares, she elaborated, "You don't have to get along or be best friends. Just try not to scream at each other while you're here. You can be cordial for one weekend, for my wedding, right?"

Caroline"s nod was curt, a reluctant truce offered without surrender. "I will if he will," she said, eyes darting to Richard with an unspoken challenge.

Richard received the comment with a slow nod, his lips curling upward in a smile that failed to reach his eyes—a mocking mimicry of peace. April recognized the gesture for what it was: a veneer of compliance layered over the stubbornness that was as much a part of him as his freewheeling spirit.

Despite the undercurrent of resentment, April felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps they could navigate this weekend without further incident. The thought allowed her to release a breath she hadn"t realized she was holding, the air carrying away a fraction of the weight that had settled on her chest.

In that moment, she knew that this fragile ceasefire was the best she could hope for, and she clung to it as if it were a promise of calm seas in the storm that was her family dynamic.

April"s eyes darted between her parents, the remnants of their hostility hanging in the air like a thick fog. With her heart drumming a relentless beat against her ribs, she pushed away from them, the urgency sketched across her features.

"I have to find another flight for Georgia," she announced, her voice edged with a determination that allowed no argument. Her gaze lingered on her mother for a mere second longer than necessary, searching for some semblance of understanding.

Caroline"s brows knitted together, worry etching lines into her forehead—a silent testament to her concern. Meanwhile, Richard leaned back, casual as ever, his suggestion floating through the charged atmosphere with an ease that belied the gravity of the situation. "She can always take a bus."

The words hung suspended, and Caroline"s expression twisted into one of visceral disgust—an unspoken rebuke to Richard"s relaxed attitude.

Typically, the expression was an overreaction, one April had witnessed countless times, but this wasn"t one of those times. This time, it made sense.

April"s mind recoiled at the image Richard"s words conjured: Georgia, alone and vulnerable, navigating crowded bus aisles with her wedding attire, the gown that should be cherished and pristine reduced to a wrinkled mess in her lap. No, she couldn"t—wouldn"t—subject her daughter to that.

Resolved, April moved with purpose, her stride carrying her away from the discordant symphony of her parents" relationship. She'd ensure Georgia arrived with the grace her special day deserved, even if it meant scouring every airline until she found a solution. A plane ride it would be.

April"s fingers danced with practiced impatience over the phone"s keypad, a staccato accompaniment to the droning on-hold music that had become the soundtrack of her frustration. She perched on the edge of a plush lobby chair, her posture rigid with the tension of an impending wedding and the current crisis at hand. Her eyes, usually warm and inviting like her bed and breakfast"s hearth, now bore into the phone with a steely resolve.

The line clicked, jolting April from her focus. A voice, crisp and indifferent, sliced through the melody of synthetic strings. "Customer Service, how can I assist you?"

"Finally," April muttered under her breath, taking a measured breath before speaking. "Yes, I"m calling about my daughter"s flight—it was rescheduled and we were not properly notified. Is there anything you can do to help us? It"s quite urgent."

A pause lingered on the other end, the silence doing nothing to alleviate the tension that clung to April like the salt spray on the island's shorelines. Then the response came, devoid of empathy, recited as if from a script that left no room for human error or understanding. "I"m sorry, ma"am, but the passenger missed her flight. Our records show a notification was sent regarding the change in departure time."

April"s jaw clenched, a silent counterpoint to the voice that seemed to echo the robotic menu she had just escaped. She could almost see the representative, insulated in a faraway office, faceless and untroubled by the weight of a mother"s plea.

"Listen," April began, the lawyer in her surfacing with a calm precision, "the notification came through only a half hour before boarding. My daughter was held up at security—there was simply no way for her to make it. This wasn"t her fault."

Her words spilled out, tinged with an urgency that belied her composed exterior. The airline"s indifference challenged her fun-loving nature, transforming it into a formidable force. April knew how to navigate turbulent waters, whether it was reassuring BB guests during a storm or standing firm against corporate apathy.

In the stillness of the lobby, with the warring whispers of her parents" quarrel fading into the background, April stood alone—a lighthouse steadfast against the relentless waves of bureaucracy. Georgia"s presence at the wedding wasn"t just a preference, it was a necessity, and April would move heaven and earth to make it so.

April"s grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles whitening as she waited, listening to the faint rustle of papers and the muted clack of a keyboard at the other end of the line. The seconds stretched, each one heavy with the gravity of her daughter"s absence. Her heart thumped a frantic rhythm, echoing the urgency of her situation.

The representative"s voice broke the silence, flat and rehearsed. "Ma"am, all I can offer is a travel voucher for future use."

It wasn"t the solution April wanted, but it was something—a small life raft in the vast sea of corporate indifference. She exhaled slowly, releasing the tension that had coiled within her like a spring. There was no time for anger now; every moment was precious, every decision critical.

"Fine," she murmured, the word barely audible, a surrender to the circumstances. She ended the call, her finger lingering on the disconnect button as if to draw out the finality of the interaction.

April"s eyes darted across the glowing screen of her phone, fingers flying as she searched for alternative flights. The soft light cast shadows across her face, revealing lines of determination etched by years of overcoming obstacles—like the time she turned the dilapidated family home into a haven for guests and horses alike.

A glimmer of hope sparked as she found a flight to Wilmington—the landing time, a promise of reunion. Georgia would arrive at the ranch in the early morning, rather than late tomorrow evening. April booked the ticket without hesitation, her actions fueled by a mother"s resolve.

Outside the window, the sky began to bruise with the colors of dusk, a silent witness to the trials and triumphs of the day. April stood, her posture straightening, a testament to her innate ability to navigate the chaos with grace. Her daughter would have her wedding with all the love and support she deserved, and April would ensure it, come what may.

April"s fingers twitched with a mother"s urgency as she dialed Georgia"s number. The ringing of the phone was an echo in her chest, each tone a beat closer to connection or calamity. When Georgia"s voice finally pierced through, it came in waves of frantic apology, each word tumbling over the next in a cascade of regret.

"Mom, I"m so sorry, if only I hadn"t—"

A single deep breath, and April cut through the tide of panic with the precision of her old lawyering days. "Georgia, listen," she interjected, her words a life raft amidst the storm. She rattled off the new flight details, each digit a stepping stone towards resolution.

"And don"t worry about transportation; I"ll have a loaner car waiting for you at Wilmington." Her voice was the calm in the chaos, the steady hand that had once signed deeds and now promised deliverance.

On the other end of the line, a silence bloomed—a pause pregnant with dawning relief. Then, Georgia"s gratitude gushed forth, her thanks a soothing balm to the burn of stress that had marked April"s skin these past hours.

"I don't know what happened, I was so worried that we wouldn't figure anything out. You're a life saver and I can't wait to see you! I really thought I was going to miss it."

"Everything"s going to be okay," April assured her daughter, feeling the truth of her own words like a weight lifting from her shoulders. They exhaled in unison, their breaths a shared whisper of coming joy and celebration.

"Can"t wait for the weekend," they said almost together, a chorus of anticipation.

With the call ended, April allowed herself a moment of pride. Despite all odds, she"d navigated another crisis, plucking solutions from a sky that seemed determined to fall. It was this ability to find her footing on shifting sands that kept her standing, even when she should have been swept away by the currents of anxiety.

She pictured Georgia stepping off the plane into the fresh dawn light, imagined the laughter and tears that would fill the approaching days. This weekend, this wedding would be a testament to love and resilience—much like the home she had rebuilt, much like the life she had crafted from the ruins of the past. And she, April, would not be a mess but a master of ceremonies, a beacon of hope in the soft glow of new beginnings.