Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
I n her insufficiently air-conditioned office, Mary s palms were sweaty. She resisted the urge to wipe them on the skirt of the black dress she normally wore to funerals but now had become her wedding planning uniform. Instead, she clasped them primly in her lap.
No, don t hide your hands. The remembered advice from who-knew-where hit her like a cattle prod, and she moved her hands to the surface of her desk with a sticky thwap. She cleared her throat.
What do you think of the proposal? she prompted Teagan. Do you have any questions?
Mary had transformed her windowless office off the lobby of Forza Elite Motors, where she usually did the books, into her wedding planning headquarters. She d removed all the car posters and photos of her brothers in their chauffeur suits and tricked it out with stock photos of brides, grooms, and cakes. Someday, she d have her own photos to put up. Whole albums. But for now, she was in the fake-it-till-you-make-it phase.
The giant bouquet of magenta roses Alex had sent after she d helped at last week s anniversary party perfumed her office. She inhaled their scent and hoped it covered the smell of her sweat as she waited for Teagan to look up from the blush-pink proposal.
The bell tinkled in the lobby. Rafe was covering the counter during her meeting with Teagan, but working at the desk bored him, and he usually wandered back into the shop where he blasted Aerosmith too loud to hear the door. She held her breath until she heard his voice. If she could keep up her professional pretense a few minutes longer, she might make this sale.
Finally, Teagan looked up. I m still trying to figure out what s missing. Why your services cost so much less than every other planner I ve talked to.
She liked that about Teagan. She said what she was thinking. It had been easy to put together some concepts since Teagan already knew what she wanted. A good thing, with only a month to plan it.
She owed the bride straight talk. I m just getting my business off the ground. Honestly, I need customers for my portfolio, so I m discounting my rates temporarily. I promise you ll get excellent service.
I love your proposal. And I know Twyla said all the plans were up to me, but I think she ll love them too. I d like to move forward.
Mary held herself back from leaping across the desk to hug her newest client, who didn t seem to be the hugging type. That s fantastic. All you have to do is sign the last page and give me a t-ten percent deposit.
She kept her wince on the inside. Alex never would ve stuttered over asking for a deposit. She smiled brightly at the bride-to-be.
Of course. Can I pay you with Moo-Lah?
That s fine. My username is at the bottom of the proposal.
Raised voices, one of them Rafe s, filtered through the closed door. Could you excuse me for just a minute? Mary asked.
Teagan hadn t fully finished her yes when Mary closed the door behind her and stepped into the lobby. A red-faced white woman glared up at Rafe, who scowled back at her.
Mary, tell this lady we don t have a pink Cadillac, so she couldn t have reserved one.
Mary had lost track of how many times she d reminded her brothers the customer was always right. Though in this case, Rafe was right. They didn t own a pink Cadillac.
What seems to be the trouble? Mary asked the customer.
I called last Saturday afternoon and talked to this guy to reserve a Cadillac. Pink! I know I said pink. And today I show up, and it s boring black.
She didn t talk to me, Rafe grumbled.
It doesn t matter, sweetie, Mary said through gritted teeth. Why don t you go back to the shop while I take care of this?
Rafe grunted and shuffled through the door. Mary turned her brightest smile on the customer. I m so sorry about the inconvenience. We do have a vintage white Cadillac, or if you want something a little flashier, I ve got a red Ferrari.
A Ferrari, huh?
At the same price we quoted you for the Cadillac. They d rent it at a loss, but she hoped this way, the woman wouldn t squawk about Forza s bad service all over town.
No discount for my trouble?
Mary forced a grin. Ten percent off.
Done. Where do I sign?
One moment. Mary stuck her head through the shop door. Michael, could you please do the paperwork on Christie Brinkley?
He poked his head around the hood of his freshly painted blue Mustang. Rafe s supposed to be handling the desk.
She hated pulling him off his passion project. But the rental business was the priority for all of them. She used her firmest voice. I need you, Michael.
Fine. Wiping his hands on a rag, he sauntered toward the door.
She smiled at the customer. Michael will take care of you. Thank you so much for your understanding. She scrawled 10% off Presidential rate onto a sticky note, slapped it onto the computer monitor, and scurried back to her office.
Sorry about that, she said, closing the door.
Teagan looked up from her phone. My wedding will be your first priority, right? No splitting your attention with —she waved at the closed door— that? I know I ve left it pretty late, and we don t have a lot of time.
What was it with everyone wanting to be her first priority? Last weekend, it was Alex, now Teagan. Too bad, her family was always first. But until she could get her business revved up, weddings would be a close second. She could handle it.
She flattened her trembling palms on the desk. It would be a race to get it all done this summer. Teagan and Twyla s wedding was only a month away, the weekend before the Richardson reception. But Teagan was planning an intimate ceremony for their closest family and friends, and she loved the outdoor venue Mary had proposed. A good thing since all the air-conditioned options were booked. It was a small party she could organize in her sleep, a blip compared to the Richardson event the following weekend.
Of course. Nothing will distract me from your big day. Mary smiled as the lobby door tinkled again. Ms. Grumpy Pink Cadillac must have left at last.
After she made copies of the contract and scheduled their next meeting, Mary escorted Teagan out of the office. But the lobby was full of men. And tension thick as incense at a bishop s Mass.
She sucked in a cooling breath through her nose and rushed to open the door for Teagan. See you Monday! She hoped her expression looked like a smile and not a grimace.
Bye. The tiny line between Teagan s eyebrows told her it was a grimace.
Mary tugged the lobby door closed. Alex, whom she hadn t seen at Forza Elite Motors since they were in high school, gripped a box protectively. Both of her brothers stood in front of the counter, clenching their fists. She could smell the testosterone. Or maybe that was the scent of motor oil on her brothers coveralls battling Alex s cologne.
What s going on?
Not breaking eye contact with her brothers, Alex said, I came to give you this.
She doesn t want anything from you, Michael growled. Not your stinking roses, and not whatever s in that box.
Your sister and I are working together, Alex said. This is business. His white knuckles contrasted with the lightness of his tone.
Don t you have people to run your errands? Rafe s voice rumbled like the V8 engine on his pickup.
Alex s gaze swept from Michael to Rafe. I couldn t trust anyone else with this.
Rafe sniffed the air. I smell a liar. Don t you, Michael?
Stinking liar, his brother agreed.
Boys, go back to the shop. Gently, Mary pried the box from Alex s hands. He cracked his knuckles.
What s in the box? Rafe stepped forward.
The box was less than a foot long on each side and surprisingly light. Mary pushed past her brothers to set it on the counter and lifted the flap. Inside a nest of shredded paper was a bubble-wrapped item about the size of a small teapot. She pulled it out and carefully unwrapped it.
It was a delicate ceramic statuette of a Black couple, the man wearing a suit and the woman in a puffy white gown. The woman s hair was a 1980s-style mass of coils that reminded her of the cover of Janet Jackson s Control album.
A cake topper? she asked.
Rochelle s parents , Alex said. She wants to use it, and I thought it might inspire your plans.
How sweet. She turned the statuette in her hands. Wanting to use the topper meant tradition was important to Rochelle. That she remembered her mother and wanted her to have a place in her wedding even if she couldn t be there in person. Mary got it. She wished she had a memento like this from her parents wedding, but they d done a city-hall quickie, perhaps to hide the fact that Michael was already on the way. Their stern-faced Catholic grandma knew how to count months and, unlike Rochelle s family, wouldn t have celebrated an early-arriving grandchild.
If her family had been more supportive, would Mom have worked herself into illness and an early death? Would she still be around to give Mary a hug and tell her she was doing a good job? And someday, in the far-distant future, if Mary finally met a nice man and decided to marry, would she have sat in the front row, tears sparkling in her eyes?
Mary wiped a tear from her own cheek and glanced up to thank Alex. But Rafe was standing practically on top of him.
I don t know what s going on here, but no one makes Mary cry, he growled.
He didn t?—
Michael spoke over her. You ve delivered it. Now get out. He pulled a socket wrench from his pocket and tapped it against his palm.
Mary stepped between them. Stop. This is ridiculous. Thanks, Alex, for bringing me this. It s going to give me a ton of ideas. An inspiration board started to come together in her head. A white layer cake with frosting flowers, the topper nestled into the top layer. Or a more modern cake, architectural and austere, possibly something textured, with the topper as a throwback element. Eighties and nineties hits sprinkled into the dance mix. And if Rochelle wanted one of those retro ballroom skirts, it would go a long way to hiding her baby bump.
I m glad you appreciate it, Alex said smoothly. I expect I ll see a lot more of you all, now that we re working together.
Won t that be nice, boys? Mary said. Like back in high school. Alex used to come to their house for Sunday dinner after Mass. Then, while Rafe and Michael washed the dishes, Alex, Mary, and her dad would go into the garage and tinker with whatever project Dad had going on in there. Alex s help was usually limited to handing over the right size socket wrench because he didn t know a fuel injector from a spark plug, but he seemed to enjoy chatting with Dad. Alex had never come out and said it, but she suspected his father wasn t nearly as generous with his time.
This guy was an asshole back in high school, Rafe said, squaring his jaw. Still is, only now he s got fancier suits and manicures.
Rafe, be nice. Where was a bucket of water when she needed it? She d dump it over her brothers like a pair of angry cats.
Alex pulled his phone from his pocket. Looks like you aren t so averse to the idea of a fancy suit yourself, Rafael. Carelessly, he flicked a thumb over the screen, then turned it toward Rafe.
Rafe s face went as red as Mary s Corvette.
She set the cake topper on the desk, then grabbed Alex s hand to see what he d shown Rafe. It was a photo of Rafe in a tux, gazing into the middle distance, his hand—the one that still had a splint on it—shoved into the pants pocket. Holy crap, Rafe, she gasped. How d they make you look so hot?
Alex cleared his throat and pressed his phone into her hand. Scroll. There s more.
No! Rafe s expression was pure horror. But of course, she had to look.
She flicked through a few more poses. Damn, was his jaw really that sharp? In the suit, he looked almost as good as Alex. As she scrolled, she noticed he lost the tie, then the shirt was unbuttoned at the base of his neck, then at the middle of his chest. Then the jacket was gone. Her fingers froze on the next photo, where Rafe lay on a bed against white sheets, shirtless, bathed in a light that called to mind early mornings, waking up next to someone who d rocked your night.
Rafe. She looked up, eyes wide. You said you kept your clothes on.
What? He snatched the phone from Mary.
Michael peered over his shoulder. Holy shit. That looks like porn.
Rafe put his hand over the screen. They said they wouldn t use that one. How did you get these?
Alex shrugged. I know everything that goes on in my hotel.
I kept my pants on. Rafe shot a pleading gaze at Mary. I promise.
Too bad you can t tell in that shot, Alex said. He was enjoying her brother s discomfort far too much.
Fuck you. Rafe looked like he wanted to hurl the phone at Alex, but he only shoved it roughly into the front of his dress shirt. Delete those, like I told the modeling agency people to do.
Alex looked down at the phone, a devilish smile curling his lips. I don t think so. These photos bring me far too much enjoyment.
Usually, Rafe was the steady one, but this time, Michael held him back. The tendons in Rafe s neck stood out, and his face had gone almost purple. Fuck you and your bullshit! Delete those, or so help me, I ll take a mallet to your phone!
Mary planted her hands on the lapels of Alex s sport coat and pushed him back a couple of steps. That s enough, Alex, she hissed.
Alex blinked down at her like he d just remembered she was there. I, um, I guess I got carried away.
I guess you did. Why had he whipped out those photos? Though in a way, she was glad he had. It reminded her that Rafe was still her younger brother and, apparently, still needed protecting. Why had he posed shirtless for the modeling agency? Why had he agreed to pose for them at all? And why hadn t he let her review whatever release he d signed? She was the only one of them who d taken college-level business classes. Unlike Rafe, she dealt with contracts every day.
Which was why she had to narrow her focus to where it was needed: her family. No more partnerships or big weddings. She could plan Teagan s and Cierra s weddings while she got the boys and the shop in order, but that was all.
Alex began, Look, I m sorry…
Mary plucked the cake topper off the desk and folded it into its bubble wrap, then carefully nestled it back into its box. She handed it to him. I can t do this. I need to look after my brothers. And my own business here.
But you?—
No. I can t, she repeated. She d been distracted at the wedding expo, and that had caused all this trouble.
What am I going to do without you? His brown eyes deepened, threatening to suck her in.
Not her problem. Michael stepped forward. Now get out of our fucking shop.
Mary? Alex held the box between them as if hoping she d take it back.
I m sorry, Alex. You d better go. Find someone else to plan the wedding.
His jaw hardened, and it was like he d drawn a shade over his pleading brown eyes. They went cold and glittery. Fine. I will. He turned on the heel of his shiny loafers and walked out, the bell dinging merrily as the door swung shut behind him.
Deliberately, Mary turned her back and didn t watch Alex s fine ass walk toward his Ferrari. You okay, Rafe?
Yeah. I m really sorry.
Don t worry about it. Find me that release you signed, and I ll call the modeling agency.
Thanks.
Mary reached for him and pulled him close. I m always here for you. Don t forget it.
He rested his chin on the top of her head. Thank you. Michael, you want in on this? Mary gives the best hugs.
Nah, I m good. Try to stay out of fucking trouble, okay? He opened the shop door.
Rafe s arms tightened around her. Yeah. Okay. Sorry.
Mary held Rafe a little longer. It ll be okay. We re family, and we ve got each other s backs.
Family, Rafe repeated. I can always count on you.
Always.