If the will of the Universe had a destiny in mind for me, I could wedge my heart open to it and face whatever hand I was dealt, with the bravery of a lady warrior.

I adopted “I am woman, oh, Mighty Universe. Hear me chortle!” as my unspoken battle cry.

Looking around the living room at the women of my family, each busily tending to something wedding-related, I was flooded with pride. We were strong and competent. We were making things happen in our world. We weren’t allowing ourselves to be paralyzed by old fears until it was too late. No. We could roll with any changes that got hurled our way and positively influence our destinies.

And as for me…what a wonder I was. Yes, truly! How sensible I was being about all of this. How levelheaded. How unbelievably healthy. Damn, what a great attitude I had!

And I was in the midst of congratulating myself on these tremendous feats — and on my sense of personal power — when the doorbell rang again.

“I’ll get it,” I said, springing up as if buoyed by a jubilant spirit. Or, maybe, by a giant Slinky.

Jane’s voice said, Do not open it, Ellie.

I asked her, Why not? but swung the front door open wide before she had a chance to reply.

And, now, here we are.

Fully in the present.

As I stare mutely into the blue eyes of the man on our doorstep.

It takes a moment of this magnitude for me to finally grasp how wrong I’d been about something important.

Because, see, until this very instant, I thought I had a shred of mastery over my life and my destiny when, clearly, the only thing I have is a theory — My Unifying Theory About the Nature of the Universe — which snaps into being, fully formed in my mind.

Simply put, my newfound theory states: The minute a person comes to the erroneous conclusion that he or she controls anything at all in this life, the Universe immediately gets even with the bloody idiot.

Let go, Ellie. Just let go of all expectation.

A voice in my head, other than Jane’s, says this, and I realize, with no little shock, that it’s my own voice.

So, miraculously, even if it’s only for a second, I let go.

“Hi, Sam,” I say finally, amazed by the calm flow of these words out of my mouth.

“Hi, Ellie,” he says with a tight smile. He’s holding a lovely bouquet of autumn-colored flowers, his knuckles white around the wrapping. “I heard there was going to be a Barnett wedding this weekend. Congratulations to…everyone.”

He thrusts the bouquet into my hands, and I have no choice but to accept it. Then I stare at him some more.

I don’t understand why he’s here, and I realize I may never understand this or anything else. That I can’t comprehend the Grand Plan, but I can try to handle whatever happens as it comes to me. Moment by moment.

“Why don’t you invite the gentleman inside,” my mom suggests, motioning for Sam to come in and yanking the flowers out of my grasp. She passes them off to Lyssa. “Put these in water, will you, dear?”

As my cousin’s daughter disappears into the kitchen, I manage to step back so Sam can enter the house, but I can’t quite stop gaping at him. “Everyone, this is Sam,” I inform them at last, my eyes never leaving his face.

“Wait. Sam Blaine?” Angelique says, her voice rising up an octave, her expression so stunned she lets the triplet she’s chasing slip away from her momentarily.

“I — um, yes,” Sam says, looking perplexed and rather worried at the instant name recognition, but he extends his hand to her politely. “Have we met?”

Angelique laughs. “I’m Ellie and Di’s cousin. And, yes. We met ages ago at a high-school dance. It’s been about, hmm…close to twenty years now.” She pauses and waits for the memory to catch up with him. “I remember you really well, Sam.”

His brow furrows and the color slowly seeps away from his face. “Uh, Angelique, right?”

“Exactement,” she says in her always-impeccable French. “And have you met Alex? The groom?”

Sam swallows, shakes his head and gives Di’s fiancé a dark nod.

Alex sets down his dessert bowl and offers his hand. “Nice meeting you,” he says with an ice-cream-mustache grin.

Sam grasps Alex’s hand briefly and, just as quickly, lets it drop. “Yeah,” he says back.

A moment of morgue-like silence follows.

Then Mom begins to chatter about how wonderful it is that Angelique, Leo, Nadia, Gregory and all their kids could fly out here for the wedding and how excited everyone is about it and how there are a million last-minute details and how she and Di and I have been running around trying to take care of everything but, oh, what a joy it is to see a daughter so happily married.

Sam’s expression turns, if possible, even darker and tighter than before. His gaze trains on Alex with the chill of a Siberian hailstorm.

I catch a glimpse of Di, her brown eyes round with incredulity. Then, suddenly, she laughs.

Everyone transfers their stares to her.

She strides up to Sam and whacks him on the back with what I know is intended, theoretically, to be a friendly gesture, but gentleness was never Di’s forte.

“Don’t know how well you remember me, Sam,” she says. “I’m Diana, Ellie’s older sister.” Then she pauses until she’s sure she has Sam’s attention and mine, too. “I’m the bride.”

I watch as the lightness floods back into Sam’s face. His gaze darts between my sister, her fiancé, and me for a full five seconds. Then he grins. “I’m delighted to hear that.”

“Thought you might be,” Di whispers, her voice low enough that only Sam and I can catch the words. It’s then that I realize he came here thinking I was the bride.

Jane gasps, but says nothing else. I think she’s been stunned into silence. This, I know, won’t last long.

Then Di says, louder now, “Alex and I are getting remarried.”

Sam shoots a warm smile at my sister, extending it to Alex also. “That’s wonderful.”

“Isn’t it?” Mom says. “Dated for two years the first time. Married for almost five. Divorced for…well, too long. And now soon-to-be-married again. It’s so romantic!”

“Yes, it is,” Sam says agreeably.

“So, you’re an old friend of Ellie’s?” Mom asks.

“Yeah, but I’ve probably chosen a bad time to visit, what with everything you’ve all got to do. I was just hoping to talk with her for a few minutes.”

“Oh, she’s free now,” Mom says with a breezy wave. “We’ve done everything we can do for today, and Di and Alex were about to leave anyway.” She lets her gaze wash over Sam with no attempt to disguise her scrutiny. “So, what are you doing these days? Do you live in the area?”

“Not at present. I did my residency out in Boston and I’m still there, but I hope to be on staff at Chicago General soon.”

“So, you’re a doctor?” Mom says, every note in her voice also saying how impressed she is by this little tidbit of good fortune. “Dr. Sam Blaine?”

He nods.

“Well, if you’re still here for the weekend, you’re welcome to join us for our big celebration. The wedding is at St. Michael’s on Saturday at two.”

Sam glances at me.

I narrow my eyes at him. The Universe may force me to accept its machinations, but I don’t have to openly invite chaos. And Sam Blaine has always equaled chaos. The sense of calm I believed I had a few moments ago decides to flee.

He begins to shake his head. “Thanks, Mrs. Barnett, but — ”

Di jumps in. “Oh, yes! You must come. Please. The more the merrier.” She throws a devilish smirk my way then nudges Alex. “Right, honey?”

Alex shoots me a quizzical look and, since I’m plainly trying to signal him to say No! Not a good idea, he’s justifiably confused. But he won’t go against the fervent wishes of his repeat bride. “R-Right,” he tells Sam.

“Well,” Sam says, “I don’t know if Ellie — ”

Angelique grins at me then interrupts. “Ellie’s going to be the maid of honor, you know,” she tells him slyly. “But she’ll need a dance partner once the required reception waltzes are over. Are you still a good dancer, Sam?”

This succeeds in finally rousing me to speech. “Let’s go talk, Sam. Outside. Now.” I all but push him out the door.

“Bye, Sam!” I hear a chorus of female voices say from the living room as we leave. This is followed by giggling. Damn those strong women of my family. They know way too much.

“I, uh…” Sam begins.

“W-W-What’s going on?” I stutter. “W-Why are you back?”

Yes, Jane agrees, recovering her tongue. By all means, ask him this. And then suggest he depart immediately.

I cross my arms and try to look unaffected, but he puts his hand on my shoulder and steers me down a sidewalk littered with crunchy fall leaves. My personal heat index rises.

Sam clears his throat. “Like I told your mother, I’m hoping to be working in Chicago soon.”

“So, you’re here for job interviews?”

“Not exactly.” He scores his fingers through his hair and I notice there’s no wedding band. Where’s the gold band? There’s supposed to be one. Isn’t he married yet?

Not knowing the answer throws me. I can’t analyze anything else until I can wrap my mind around his marital status. So I ask, in one long breath, “Did your fiancée fly out here with you? Are you here because you’re looking for apartments to live in together? Terrie told me you were engaged…aren’t you?”

“No,” he says shortly, and my heart skips several beats. “But I was. And I got your note. It was — well, it was really nice. I read it over a bunch of times…” His voice trails off. Then he says, “Look, Ellie, this is gonna sound crazy. I’m not even sure how to ask you this, but I need to know something — ”