Chapter 19
ABI
Bouquet? Check, and looking gorgeous, if I do say so myself.
Row cappers? Check. Janey’s a boss and already has them installed on the final white chair lining the aisle.
Petals for the flower girls to toss, boutonnieres, and bridesmaid’s bouquets? Check, check, and checkity-check.
“I think,” I say before unleashing a bone-cracking yawn that leaves me wondering just where I could have built up that much tension in my jaw, “that we’re looking good.”
“Good?” Janey snaps. “I’m pretty sure you mean things are looking Modern Wedding cover ready,” she declares, holding her hands up in a square like a photographer framing her shot.
I can’t help but smile as I look around the beach setup.
The archway that will frame Claire and Cole as they say their vows is probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever created.
Claire requested a wooden frame and white curtains to blow in the sea breeze but then left the details to me. “Just make it dreamy.”
I feel like there are degrees of dreams.
. . . a wish, which is a quick shorthand of a thought and grows into . . .
. . . a fantasy, which is layered with textures and details that make you want to live inside it, and if you’re fortunate, it can become . . .
. . . a reality.
That’s what I’ve done here, brought Claire’s vague description of romance and magic to life with lush blooms and greenery. The Andean Lupine flowers are the cherry on the sundae.
I laugh as Janey continues her faux-photographer act and I pose as though I’m a model on a gorgeous set. “You’re right. We’re the best.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” a voice says behind me. Meredith was probably trying to frighten me, knowing her, but I’m so exhausted that I honestly wouldn’t jump if Jason Voorhees came wading out of the Caribbean right now.
“The ceremony site’s good to go,” I assure Meredith, who sniffs in that way she has that sounds like she’s got a dry congestion but really means We’ll see. I wait for a few tense minutes as she looks around and comes over, nodding curtly.
“I suppose the ceremony site looks up to standard,” she concedes with an icy eye roll. Oh, not a full one—that’s way too low-brow for someone like Meredith Wildeman—but rather a side-eye roll that throws more shade than a hundred-year-old redwood tree. “Now, how does the reception space look?”
“We’re on it and running to schedule. It’ll be ready in time.”
“It had better be.” Meredith is giving it her all to be her usual snooty, bitchy self, but when she turns to walk back inside, I can’t help but see that she’s barefoot.
Guess those red-soled heels don’t work in the sand? Honestly, I’m surprised she has feet and not hooves like the demon she is. She stomps nevertheless, aiming for intimidating but looking more like a wobbly-legged drunk who can’t hold a straight line.
Janey and I hold off on our giggles until she enters the back doors of the resort, but when our eyes meet, we’re done for and the laughter erupts out of us like champagne. “Oh, my God, she’s the worst,” Janey declares.
“Shh,” I chastise her, not wanting to tempt fate that Meredith might overhear. Even though Janey is absolutely correct.
Meredith is the worst.
But she’s gone off to make someone else’s life hell for now, so we move on to the ballroom, taking advantage of her absence to work without her harsh oversight.
We’re putting the last zhuzhing touches on the tables when a bridesmaid comes in wearing a pink satin robe and fuzzy slippers, her makeup done but her hair in curlers.
“Abi?” she hisses.
“Yes?” Seeing the panic in her eyes, I amend my response. “What’s wrong?”
“The bouquet! Claire’s dog got ahold of it,” she says in near-hysterics. “Claire doesn’t know . . . yet.”
“Her what? I didn’t even know she had a dog!” My voice is too loud, drawing the attention of the other workers, and the bridesmaid shushes me with a hand.
Looking at me in confusion, she asks, “Do you not follow her? Of course, she has a dog. Adopted from a rescue that she supports and volunteers for.”
Of course. That actually sounds like something Claire would do.
“Janey, you got this?” I gesture to the tables around us.
“Yep, you handle that before the bride finds out and has a mental breakdown,” she responds, and I’m off, running for the elevator with a bucket of loose flowers, matching pace with the bridesmaid.
In the bridal suite, I find a party atmosphere with several other bridesmaids surrounding Claire. They hold up champagne flutes and smile as they ooh and ahh over how beautiful Claire is. But I see several pairs of eyes cut to me with a silent plea for HELP!
I give them a nod. I’ve got this.
And I’m quite sure of that until I see what has become of the gorgeous bouquet I designed. “Oh, no,” I cry, slapping my hands over my mouth so Claire doesn’t hear me.
The bridesmaid who came for me says, “You can fix it, right?”
I look at her with wide eyes, incredulous. “Fix this?” The flowers are destroyed, more petals than actual blooms, and the ones that are still held together at the stem have bite marks on them. “No, but I can replace it. Give me a few minutes to work my magic.”
“Please!” she begs.
A cheer goes up in the other room and Claire shouts happily, “Madison! What are you doing? Come toast with us.” The bridesmaid flushes, and I guess she’s the missing Madison.
“Go, just keep Claire in there. And where’s the dog?” The last thing I need to do is recreate a masterpiece and then have Cujo eat it again. The bridesmaid points to a kennel where a fluffy white mop of a dog is sleeping soundly.
Madison leaves me alone and I raise a brow at the dog. “Why you gotta destroy my hard work?” The dog doesn’t answer, but even in sleep, it growls unhappily.
I sort through the bouquet bits one by one to see if anything is salvageable and discover there are a few usable pieces.
Very few. Using the loose blooms I brought with me, I’m able to create another bouquet.
It’s not as large as the original, but it’s the perfectly round poof of multi-colored blooms that Claire requested.
I even add a cascade of pearls that I swiped from the tablescape downstairs to tie it together with the whole design.
Looking at the snoring dog, I’m struck with an idea of brilliance. I grab a few more flowers and a length of ribbon to fashion a collar of sorts for Cujo, or whatever Fluffy McFlowerEater’s real name is.
“Flower girl, I thought you had already delivered the bouquet. What are you doing here?” Meredith’s voice sends a chill down my spine. How does she do that? I swear she needs a bell tied around her neck so she can’t sneak up on people.
I spin, the dog collar going behind my back. I’m sure I look as busted as I feel, though I’m not doing anything suspicious. Or at least not now that the bouquet crisis is handled.
“Oh, hi, Abi!” Claire calls from beside Meredith.
“The bouquets look so gorge!” She swooshes into the room in a white satin robe, her hair and makeup perfect.
She comes over to the desk to pick up the new bouquet, looking at it through glossy eyes.
“I can’t believe it’s all happening today,” she says earnestly, not even noticing that the bouquet is different than it was before.
I swear, this woman is too damn perfect. She’s beautiful, kind, big-hearted, saves dogs, thinks of her guests and followers, and appreciates the work everyone’s doing to make her dream come true.
If she wasn’t so nice, I’d hate her. But she is . . . So. Nice.
I’m still worried about that phone call I overheard, and I even consider telling Claire about it so she could do what she wants with the information.
But I don’t know anything. Not really. It could’ve been nothing.
God, I hope it’s nothing. Because I don’t want to be a gossiper.
I’ve seen how quickly a rumor can run amok and cause all sorts of problems. And in the end, it doesn’t even matter what’s true and what’s exaggerated.
So I swallow my questions and let Claire’s watery-eyed smile bloom. I won’t take that away from her. I won’t mar this day with unfounded concerns. That’s the right thing to do . . . right?
Claire looks to her circle of friends, who all seem truly relaxed now that the bouquet crisis has been handled.
“I couldn’t have done any of this without you guys. You were there to talk me into going out with Cole, celebrated with me when he proposed, and will be there to support me when I say ‘I do’ to forever with him.” She sniffles and fans her face, trying to stop the tears from spilling over.
“And stash tissues,” Madison offers as she pulls one from her cleavage. Claire takes it without hesitation. That’s a real friendship there, boob sweat and all. The group of women all hug in one big pile as they talk, laugh, and cry about how they’ll always be there for one another, no matter what.
Claire continues to look around the room, “And Holly, thank you for my hair. It’s perfect. And Dominique, my makeup makes me feel so beautiful. You two have made me your canvas. And Meredith . . .” Her voice catches.
Ugh. Meredith has done a good job, I’ll begrudgingly admit that. But I can’t help that it’ll make my stomach turn to hear Claire waxing poetic about what an amazing wedding planner Meredith is.
“I was so excited to work with Beth and had done so much to plan everything with her. That poor thing had to deal with all my Pinterest boards and whittle all that craziness down to specifics.” Claire shakes her head like she can hardly believe what she put Beth through.
“And I was so sad when she couldn’t come .
. . I mean, happy for her! Of course, happy for her.
But it felt like this thing we’d planned wasn’t going to be the same without her.
But then you stepped in, filled Beth’s big shoes, and you’ve done everything to make those dreams come true.
I know it hasn’t been an easy job. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. ”