On Tuesday morning Lena put the wedding note in a folder called Cancelled.
She nearly called it Later. Her finger hovered over the keyboard before she made herself type the word she meant.
Jo sat beside her at the café table. They had come in early, before the bread delivery, so there would be no customers to listen. Bea arrived carrying coffee in a flask and three mismatched mugs. Jo had called her the evening before, with Lena beside her, and told her why the wedding was off. Bea had been silent for a long time before asking what they needed.
“Not flowers,” she said.
Lena laughed once. It hurt, but it was still a laugh.
They decided what needed saying. Not every private detail. Not a story in which Lena had to make herself entirely innocent before anybody could believe the wedding was off.
“Daniel and I aren't getting married,” she said aloud. “I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I don't want questions today.”
Jo nodded.
“That'll do.”
Lena sent the message to the small group of guests. Her thumb shook over the button. She set the phone face down afterward and reached for the coffee.
It rang almost at once.
Her aunt had booked a train. She wanted to know whether she should cancel it or whether Lena might change her mind before the wedding date. Not unkindly. She sounded practical, trying to decide what to do with a ticket bought for something that no longer existed.
“No,” Lena said. “I won't change my mind.”
Her aunt was quiet.
“Are you all right, love?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to come anyway?”
Lena looked at Jo and Bea, both pretending not to listen.
“Not this week. I'll call you later.”
“All right.”
She ended the call. The ticket still cost money. Her aunt still had to decide what to do with it. Love didn't remove every inconvenience she'd caused.
Other replies came. Some simply sent affection. One asked what Daniel had done. Lena didn't answer that one yet. She had sent the same announcement to Daniel first, and he had agreed it was theirs to send. She wasn't going to spend the morning arguing over the description of their breakup.
Bea put down her mug.
“I told Nate it was off,” she said. “Only that. I thought he should know before somebody else called him.”
Lena nodded. She could live with that.
“I need to tell you something,” she said. “About your birthday.”
Bea looked up.
“I kissed him afterward.”
Jo went still beside her. Bea stared at the mug in her hand.
“After Daniel went?”
“Yes. On the way home.”
“Did he—”
“I kissed him. He kissed me back. I told Daniel the next morning.”
Bea set the mug down carefully.
“I was upstairs thinking everybody had had a nice evening.”
“We did.”
“That doesn't make me feel better.”
“No.”
Lena swallowed. “It doesn't explain what Daniel did. But I don't want to tell you his part and leave out mine.”
Bea looked at her then. Her face was angry and sad, not choosing one.
“My brother can be an idiot,” she said. “You can too.”
Lena nodded.
“I wish neither of you had used my birthday to prove it.”
“We didn't mean—”
She stopped. Bea watched her finish the sentence without saying it.
“I'm sorry,” Lena said instead.
Bea breathed out. “Yes.”
For a while they sat in a silence nobody rushed to improve.
Then the bread delivery knocked. Jo got up. Lena followed because standing at the counter with a useful task was easier than being forgiven too quickly.
The café opened. Bea stayed long enough to eat a roll, then went to her shop. Before she left she touched Lena's shoulder, not a hug, not a complete repair.
“I'll see you Thursday,” she said.
Lena nodded. She was grateful for a next meeting that wasn't a promise nobody would be angry.
Later Jo showed her the things that couldn't simply be cancelled. Staff preparation already done. Food trial costs. The borrowed cloth, which had washed badly enough that they would replace it. The dress Lena had bought and now didn't want to collect from her sister's flat.
Lena listened without arguing that her sister had offered to help. Jo had. She had also spent money and time.
“I'll cover what I can now,” Lena said. “The rest over the next wages.”
“We'll work it out. I don't need you emptying the account today.”
“I don't want you paying for it.”
“I've paid for some of it already. Let me write down what that is before you start punishing yourself with guesses.”
Jo handed her a little sheet with three ordinary amounts on it. Lena folded it and put it in her bag.
The birthday event was this coming Saturday. Jo had flowers to order for that, food to prepare, customers expecting a cheerful afternoon. The garden wasn't going to remain empty because Lena couldn't bear its next use.
At four she went outside and sat under the pear tree. The chairs were ordinary café chairs again. No borrowed cloth. No trial arrangement.
Her phone buzzed with a message from Daniel.
I've got a room with Pete for now. I'll collect everything Wednesday evening if that works. I'll cover the costs we agreed for this month.
She answered yes.
Then she called Bea.
“Would you help me take the dress bag downstairs sometime?”
“Yes.”
“Not today.”
“Not today,” Bea agreed.
Lena ended the call and stayed in the garden until Jo came to ask whether she wanted to eat before her first new Tuesday close.
She did. She was suddenly very hungry.