Let's find out!

Mrs. Ashcroft stepped out of the elevator and into the ballroom of the historic hotel that was currently hosting her sister's wedding reception. She smiled at a passing old man, on his way to take a leak.

Her smile faltered for a moment. Take a leak? She groaned inwardly, frustrated that she accidentally let her thoughts disrupt this preening socialite's blathering internal monologue. But she had to stay focused. She straightened up and regrew her disarming smile.

"Rachel, my dear!" A middle-aged woman cried, running to hug her. She returned the embrace joyfully.

"Aunt Steph! How've you been?"

The woman, her aunt, was talking about her latest boyfriend. She always had great stories about her romantic adventures. Today, though, they needed to find the groom.

Claire blinked, briefly stunned. They? That's right, she was they. There were more than one, but Rachel didn't need to worry about that. She relaxed and listened to her aunt.

"...so I gave his shoes to my cousin. He was livid, of course, but what could he do? A week later and Randall had the things torn to shreds and covered in mud. God, I wish Bryce could have seen them. He would have started crying! But enough about me. How have you been, Rachel?"

"Oh, the more things change, the more they stay the same," she offered with a polite smile. "Danielle is considering looking for other jobs. The nonprofit world is simply too slow for her. She needs to burn her energy. Did you know she's taken up swimming? Two hours each morning, if you can believe it. And me with my charities and such! I feel like a kept woman sometimes."

"Nonsense!" her aunt exclaimed. "You two are perfect for each other! Her drive and ambition coupled with your compassion and charity. Why, if we could somehow combine you two, we'd have the perfect woman!"

Rachel allowed herself a small smirk. "If only."

She excused herself and walked to the bar. She shouldn't really drink, because that would make it difficult to maintain control. Control of what? A glass of wine had never caused her to lose control before. She was reminded that she was two people, two minds thinking in one self like-

"Ma'am?" The bartender raised his eyebrows slightly.

"I would love a sangria," she replied. And why shouldn't she have one? This was her sister's wedding! And she needed to find the groom and get him alone. It should be easy, because he didn't actually love her sister. He was just using Sarah the way Claire was about to use him.

"Here you are, ma'am." Claire? She picked up the curved glass and stared at it. Was she Claire? She held the glass in her right hand and with her left she picked up a pen from behind the bar. What was she doing?

She was writing something down. She looked at the small cardboard coaster. In big block letters, it read "I'm Rachel." She was, of course. She was Rachel. She needed to get to Davis. Glancing around the reception hall, she still didn't see him. It was time to work the crowd. She was the bride's sister, after all.

The bartender watched her leave, his professional eyes lingering on her backside for only a fraction of a second. He picked up the coaster and nearly threw it out before he noticed the message scrawled on it.

"IM RACHEL," the coaster proclaimed in a clumsy script. His eyes widened when he saw the single word added near the bottom.

"HELP"