Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

APRIL 2008

Love was in the air—for everyone except Donna Mary Gable, the middle child, the loud one, the fun one, the blonde one, the curvy one.

When you come from a family of seven sisters, your family life consists of an endless stream of comparisons, and you tend to pick up a lot of labels.

Audrey, the oldest, was the sensible and responsible one. The interior designer. The tall, willowy one who looked uncannily like her namesake, Audrey Hepburn. The newlywed, recently married to a secret billionaire. But that's another story.

Betty, sister number two, was the Mother Teresa of the family. The Bohemian one. The world-traveling humanitarian with the wild mane of dark curls. The bride-to-be, who was mere moments from marrying the boy next door, whom she'd loved all her life.

Catharine, sister number three, was the universally acknowledged beauty of the family. The redhead. The ‘50s pin-up girl. The violinist. The homebody who was on the brink of getting engaged to a man who had sworn off marriage, until he fell under Cat's spell.

And smack dab in the middle of the Gable sisters was Donna, now standing on the back patio of her childhood home in yet another bridesmaid's dress, holding Frank Sinatra's leash rather than the arm of a handsome groomsman.

Even sister number five, the brainy, bookish Elizabeth, had a date of sorts. Or at least someone to walk her down the aisle. So what if he was the groom's pimply cousin?

And the youngest of the Gable sisters, twins Ginger and Grace, who were still growing into their labels, always had each other.

Donna surveyed the scene before her from the concealed back patio of her childhood home, and her heart perked up at how perfect everyone looked. She, Donna, had done this. She had styled everyone, from grandmothers-of-the-bride down to best dog.

Betty happened to care more about humanitarian causes than haute couture, so she left almost the entire wedding wardrobe to Donna, giving her a vague idea of colors and a budget and setting her loose. The one exception was her wedding dress, which Betty had kept secret from absolutely everyone except for their mom. Donna was dying to see it.

She untangled Frank's leash for the fifteenth time and bent down to adjust his bow tie. The family's half-blind dog was a year older than the twins and somehow still drawing breath. As much as she loved Frank, she would have preferred a companion who was a little taller. And less slobbery.

It wouldn't have been impossible to round up a date. But at age 20, Donna was far enough out of high school that she'd lost touch with her ready supply of no-hassle options. Most everyone in her old friend circle was either paired up or away at school, while Donna had opted to stick around home and attend a nearby community college.

Donna's jobs, unfortunately, provided few prospects for meet-cutes. Her part-time gig contributing to a fashion blog was loads of fun, but really quite solitary. And her grandparents' cafe, where Donna waited tables, mostly attracted older folks and young families, which was fine with Donna. She didn't like meeting guys while wearing her work uniform anyway. Her bubble-gum pink poodle skirt, white button-up blouse, and high ponytail tied with a matching pink scarf were great for a ‘50s-themed joint that served both burgers and authentic Mexican food. They were not so great for attracting men who were within a decade of her own age.

She could have asked a friend from one of her theater classes, or a castmate from a recent production, to be her plus-one . But she didn't feel like bringing just a friend, a seat filler, a warm body. Most of her dating years had consisted of exactly those things. What she longed for was a true, soul-stirring, heart-pounding connection. Someone she couldn't get out of her head. Someone who set a swarm of butterflies swirling every time their eyes met.

If she couldn't have that, Old Blue Eyes would have to do.

Donna thought back to Audrey's wedding 18 months ago, a jaw-droppingly elegant affair. If you marry a billionaire, you just might have the means to fly the entire guest list to Italy and put them up in an historic villa overlooking the red rooftops of Florence.

But if you marry your lifelong crush, who has lived next door since you were in kindergarten, you might choose to say "I do" in front of the very treehouse the two of you built together as kids, where you spent many adolescent hours gazing over the fence and dreaming about him, where you shared your first kiss, where he surprised you with a proposal the previous May.

Today, the treehouse had been transformed, encircled by white twinkle lights and draped with white bunting. Betty and Gavin had considered getting married up in the treehouse itself, but the trap-door entrance and makeshift ladder (2x4s nailed to the face of the tree trunk) wouldn't be very wedding-dress friendly.

Peeking around the patio trellis, Donna could see the rows of rented white chairs that faced the treehouse filling rapidly with guests. It was almost go-time.

Her Dad emerged through the sliding glass door, looking dashing in his tux, which stretched across his broad shoulders. His dark blond hair had been recently barbered, his reddish beard trimmed and tamed.

"I'm told the bride is ready," he announced nervously, then he disappeared back into the house to collect her. Donna found it adorable that her big, tough dad was jittery about walking his second daughter down the aisle. She knew how he despised being in any kind of spotlight—a trait Donna did not inherit.

Her mom, Julie, slipped through the door, a signal that her work prepping and primping the bride was done. She hugged everyone on the patio, already dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

"How does she look?" Donna asked.

"Oh, like an angel," her mom replied, squeezing Donna's hand before heading across the lawn to take her place on the front row, next to the grandparents. Donna caught Gavin's eye, who stood fidgeting next to Reverend Roberts. She gave them both the thumbs up, and the Reverend stepped forward to say a few words to the guests, which Donna couldn't hear. Then the processional music began.

"Everyone ready?" Donna asked the group assembled behind her: Audrey and her husband, Ty; Catharine and her boyfriend, Liam; Elizabeth and Joshua (the cousin); and Ginger and Grace. They quickly arranged themselves into the right order.

Looking them over, Donna felt certain she had captured Betty's aesthetic. She'd selected a different solid for each member of the wedding party, creating a harmonious bouquet of color perfect for an April wedding. Donna alone had been allowed a sneak-peek of the plans for the bridal bouquet and the flower-crown being woven into Betty's signature dark curls, so she had a color palette to pull from.

Each dress Donna chose had a vintage vibe she knew Betty would love, despite them all being practically straight off the runway. Even though Donna had gotten them all at no cost (perks of working for a fashion blogger), she knew Betty would be horrified at the price tags on each of the dresses. Betty was the type of person who calculated the value of things in terms of how many meals for the homeless they could buy. So Donna studiously avoided the topic. If it became an issue, she'd suggest they donate the dresses to a local charity that collected prom attire for disadvantaged teens. Problem solved!

It did please Betty immensely to know that Donna had spent hours scouring thrift shops to find the perfect heirloom jewelry to complete each look. A pair of earrings or a draped necklace here, a bangle bracelet or antique ring there. Perfection.

As the music floated through the trees—some obscure indie tune that only Betty and Gavin knew—the twins started toward the grassy aisle between the chairs. Ginger wore cotton-candy pink that set off her straight, strawberry-blonde hair. Grace glowed beside her in a muted shade of mauve called "cactus flower," her soft brown curls loose and bouncy. They were both cute as a button, but as different from each other as they could be.

Elizabeth and Joshua followed. Her barely aqua dress brought out her blue eyes, hidden as they were behind her signature eyeglasses. Her glossy dark hair fell straight past her shoulders, held back by a delicate pearl headband. Then Donna stepped forward, escorting Frank. His coral bowtie matched her dress. Frank behaved as well as could be expected on the way down the aisle, pausing only once to vigorously sniff one woman's purse. Did she have peanut butter in there, or something? As chuckles rippled through the guests, Donna lured him gently away and took her place next to Elizabeth.

Then she watched as Catharine glided in on the arm of her newly reconciled boyfriend, Liam. The two of them couldn't help but turn heads wherever they went, she with her hourglass figure, and he with his Hollywood jaw. It was no different today. And Donna quietly took credit for the subdued apple green dress that complemented Cat's auburn locks perfectly.

Last came Audrey, in a very 1960s butter yellow, looking more like her namesake than ever. She beamed up at her fabulously wealthy but unusually down-to-earth husband, who was wearing actual, full-coverage shoes for once. Donna had rarely seen her brother-in-law in anything other than flip-flops.

The mothers of both the bride and groom wept openly on the front row, one in lavender and the other in plum. And the grandmothers all wore different floral prints, personally selected by Donna to complement the overall look. The group wedding pictures were going to be amazing.

As for Donna, she knew she looked her absolute best. One side of her sun-kissed hair was pinned back with a comb. The rest tumbled over her shoulders and halfway down her back. Her makeup was impeccable, with just a touch of shimmer around her bright blue eyes. And she knew her slight, closed-mouth smile was showing off her very best feature—her dimples. At least, that was the feature that drew the most comments from other people, by far.

She also knew that even at her best, she was all but invisible next to Cat, despite being bigger in every way—including in the personality department.

Sure, Donna was only an inch taller than Cat, but she still felt like a behemoth next to her delicate form. She felt like a seagull standing next to a dove. Like an ostrich next to a swan. Like Barney Rubble next to Marilyn Monroe.

Where Cat's waist curved in to create a natural, hourglass silhouette, Donna's threatened to curve in the other direction, despite all of her best efforts. She would no longer consider herself chubby, as she'd always thought as a little girl and adolescent, but she was still the least thin of the sisters, taking more after their stocky dad than their slender mom.

But all of that was driven from Donna's mind when the music changed and Betty emerged from around the patio trellis, on the arm of their father.

Donna all but gasped. The dress was so very Betty. 1970s Bohemian. True vintage. Her bare shoulders were encircled by a sheer ruffle, trimmed with understated lace. Beneath the ruffle, the dress gathered in at her slender waist then fell in tiers to the floor—each encircled by a band of floral lace. Fuchsia ballet flats peeked beneath the dress, which floated around her as she proceeded down the aisle. Her wild brown curls were piled on her head in a cascading updo, encircled by a crown of multi-colored flowers. Her lightly freckled cheeks were flushed, excitement shining in her mesmerizing green eyes. She was a vision.

Donna's favorite thing to do at weddings was to keep her eyes on the groom, to catch his expression when he first glimpsed his bride. And the normally reserved Gavin had his feelings written all over his face. The man was smitten. He was in deep smit. It melted Donna's heart.

But Betty's adoring glance up at their Dad was what turned Donna's heart into a gooey mess. Betty's hand was tucked in the crook of his arm. His blue eyes glistened with tears. So close was their bond that it often slipped Donna's mind that Brian Gable was technically Betty's adoptive dad. He was the only father she remembered, though. And from the very beginning, he treated both her and Audrey like they were his own.

Donna admittedly had a flair for the dramatic, but she just knew that Betty and Audrey's biological dad had to be looking down on them right now. If there indeed was a heaven, and Donna couldn't conceive of believing otherwise, then there had to be a "hall pass" system that allowed departed angels to visit earth during their loved ones' most important moments. Donna was certain Joe Walter Schmidt would be proud of his incredible little girl—and overflowing with gratitude for the kind man who stepped in for his daughters when he couldn't be there himself.

Donna had to choke back the sobs that threatened to erupt from her chest. She relied on her drama training to regain control of her emotions and redirect them to the present moment, when Betty took the hands of her beloved and they promised to love and serve, treasure and cherish one another, all the days of their lives.

"What's your middle name again?" Lavinia asked at the reception, while they sat at a white linen-draped table munching on veggie sticks. Donna was always on her best eating behavior in the presence of her part-time boss, one of the first fashion bloggers to make over a million dollars a year in affiliate sales alone. (Donna was one of few people to be privy to factoids like this. Lavinia was fiercely private, unlike her good-natured brother, Ty, whom Lavinia had only recently forgiven for marrying "beneath him" when he chose Audrey as his bride.)

"Mary," Donna replied. "After Donna Reed's character in It's a Wonderful Life."

"That's right," Lavinia said. "I knew it was a really…classic name like that. I kept thinking Anne or Jane, though."

Donna suspected Lavinia had been about to say something else—"boring" or "old-fashioned" maybe—before substituting a more complementary adjective.

Donna dipped another piece of broccoli in the dill-based dressing prepared by friends of Cat's from culinary school. Betty had tried to talk Cat into doing the catering herself, but Cat had recently learned the art of saying no, not wanting to be too stressed out to enjoy her sister's big day.

While Donna and Lavinia chatted about ideas for how to feature the wedding on the blog, her boyfriend, Mason, quietly downed an impressive amount of food, while Lavinia stole little bites from his plate.

To Donna's surprise, some of those bites even contained carbs! Donna noted Lavinia's slightly fuller cheeks and less-gaunt figure with silent appreciation. She'd been much too thin before. Whether due to love or carbohydrates, Lavinia looked healthier than Donna had ever seen her. Maybe, Donna thought, the reason Lavinia had been so unpleasant to Audrey and Catharine during their early acquaintance was because the woman was perpetually hungry.

But Donna would wager that Mason himself was the biggest driver of Lavinia's transformation—both inside and out. Sometimes you have to be loved for who you really are, at your core, before you can believe you're lovable. Before you can start behaving like other people are inherently lovable too.

Donna knew Lavinia had a deeply ingrained streak of snobbishness that would probably never go away, but she had opened up significantly. And finally, a year and a half after her brother's wedding to Donna's sister, Lavinia had warmed up to the large, chaotic, middle-class family in California that her brother had joined. And Donna prided herself on being one of the first to build that bridge. Lavinia and Ty's wealthy, WASPy, Bostonian parents hadn't come around yet, but that was their loss.

Eventually, Lavinia talked Mason into dancing with her. In their absence, Donna snagged something more substantial to munch on—several triangle-shaped finger sandwiches, which turned out to have peanut butter and grape jelly inside. It was an interesting choice, but Donna thought it was great that Betty and Gavin never let anyone else's expectations define them—a trait which could account for the half-dozen mimes that were circulating among the guests. Donna didn't exactly get why they were included, apart from the fact that it was some kind of inside joke between them.

At one point, Donna suggested having a mime perform the actual ceremony, but Betty and Gavin weren't quite that committed to the bit.

While Betty and Gavin had put together a playlist of their favorite songs for background music and general dancing, they asked their favorite musicians to perform live during the father-daughter dance and their first dance as a married couple.

While Cat tuned her violin, Liam took his place at the electric piano they had rented for the occasion, which sat in a corner of the dance floor.

Donna in particular had been shocked to discover that on top of his almost otherworldly good looks, Liam also played the piano. Swoon! If Cat hadn't snatched him up, Donna might have been tempted. Not that she stood a chance, being a good 10 years younger, and not exactly his physical type.

Donna vaguely recognized the melody ringing out from Cat's violin, accompanied flawlessly by Liam. Dad took Betty in his arms, tears once again gathering in the corners of his eyes, while Gavin danced with his mother.

The photographer Lavinia had hired circled around them, snapping away. This was Lavinia's gift to the happy couple—a world-class wedding photographer to document the day, with the agreement that she'd be able to include some of the photos on her blog, with Betty and Gavin's stamp of approval first.

As they danced, and switched partners, and invited other couples to join them, Donna felt another pang of loneliness. She quickly brushed it away and put on her usual cheerful face. She smiled at Ginger and Grace dancing together, taking turns pretending to be the man. She beamed at Abba and Papa Walt, the parents of Audrey and Betty's late father, dancing in each other's arms. ("Abba" came from baby Audrey's mispronunciation of "Abuela.") Theirs was a relationship to aspire to. They treated all of the Gable girls like their very own granddaughters, despite only being blood related to the first two.

Watching them, Donna reminded herself for the millionth time that Abba was not rail thin. Never really had been. And she still found lasting love. Maybe there was hope for Donna yet.

Donna knew she wasn't a hideous troll. In fact, she was quite cute. Not beautiful, but definitely, objectively cute. The kind of girl usually cast as the sidekick rather than the lead. The irony was not lost on Donna that, looks-wise, she was the lone "best friend" in a family of leading ladies, yet she was the one with the acting chops.

Donna joined in the applause as the song ended. Gavin reclaimed his bride, and Cat and Liam started into the next song.

Donna returned to her train of thought. She was certain that, if she hadn't been next in line after Cat, she wouldn't spend half as much time thinking about looks as she did. But it wasn't easy living in the shadow of a tawny-haired goddess.

Not that things had always been rosy for Cat. She had some decidedly gawky years, with untamable orange-tinged hair and protruding teeth, pre-braces. But she had transformed from "ugly duckling" to ravishing swan just when Donna reached the peak of her own awkwardness and insecurity. She couldn't count the number of times she heard, "Wait, you're telling me that Cat Gable is your sister?" with undisguised shock in their voices, followed by something like, "Wow, that must be hard."

Well, it wouldn't be hard, if people could keep their mouths shut and stop pointing out just how giant the attractiveness gap between them was.

To add insult to injury, Donna took after their Dad's side of the family more than anyone else—even though everyone from Cat on down came from the exact same gene pool.

Audrey and Betty were effortlessly slim like their mother. But given that they were 10 and 8 years older than Donna, respectively, and they had a different father, she didn't take their attractiveness quite as personally.

Donna knew it wasn't fair to call any of their thinness "effortless." Their mother was an avid runner, and Audrey, Betty, and Cat were all active and made reasonable attempts to eat a balanced diet. But Donna put more effort in than all of them put together, with less visible results.

At least she had Elizabeth, who wasn't exactly a natural twig either.

Inspired by the Lord of the Rings trilogy, Elizabeth liked to call the two halves of their extended family "the Elves" and "the Dwarves." She put herself and Donna in the "Dwarf" category, rueing the fact that all of their other sisters were more Elvish (acknowledging that it could be too soon to tell for the twins). It's not that Donna and Elizabeth were short—a la Gimli or Thorin—they were just a bit more…substantial. Solid. You know, the words every girl loves to hear.

Despite it all, Donna prided herself on dressing strategically. She had shapely shoulders and lovely legs, and her bust attracted plenty of attention. And over the years, she'd become an expert at concealing basically everything between mid-thigh and upper ribcage. She considered one-piece, shape-wear bathing suits the best invention since velcro. And she always, always splurged for an adorable cover-up.

For formal occasions, empire-waist and A-line styles suited her best. Today, she chose a high-neck, bare-shoulder, pleated mini dress in a gossamer-like fabric that floated to mid thigh. She knew she looked fresh and young and vibrant. Lavinia even said so, and Lavinia never gave an insincere compliment. She barely even gave sincere ones.

If only there was a man around to appreciate it. But alas, she was surrounded by relatives and boyfriends of relatives. And all the friends of the groom were either married, much too old (Gavin was 30!), or too serious (all those architects!) for Donna's tastes.