Chapter 23
Ani
Despite her belief in herself, things were not going according to plan.
A few weeks later, Grace’s star had only grown.
The trailer for Mafia Princess had dropped, and the internet had exploded—fans dissecting every frame, memes flooding social media, and hashtags trending worldwide.
Every magazine and newspaper seemed to feature her, whether it was a glossy cover story or a breathless think piece about her meteoric rise, with headlines like “Lights, Camera, Zhang: The Overnight Stardom of Mafia Princess’s Leading Lady.
” Even the phrase “Zhang effect” was taking hold, with people talking about how social media could cement stardom before a movie was even released.
Ani and Sanan had held a call with Grace and Kami during which Grace had briefly discussed it. She didn’t mind the paparazzi but preferred they not be on the premises the day of the wedding. That was something new Ani would have to figure out. This might be the one and only time she had to.
Ani was at her parents’ house in San Mateo with her sister, Talar, and Talar’s husband, Nshan.
Her parents had made lunch together: eech, tabbouleh, and vospov kuftes because they were currently on a vegan diet.
“We enjoyed it so much at Lent,” her mother had told her, “that we decided to make it permanent.” So apparently they had fish on Fridays and were vegan all the other days.
And of course they cooked all their meals together in true romantic fashion.
The five of them gathered comfortably in her parents’ family room, sitting on the long L-shaped couch, eating lunch and watching an Armenian soap opera Ani’s mom had gotten into. Ani, regrettably, could hardly understand the Eastern Armenian dialect, so her mother acted as a live translator.
“That means ‘celebratory,’ ” her mother said. She held up a notepad where she’d written down words that were new to her. “See, I am studying Eastern now. Your mother is going to be a master of both our languages.”
Her mother worked at Nordstrom in the cosmetics department, but because, as she claimed, she had no children in the house to cook for and no grandchildren to watch, she had no choice but to watch copious amounts of Armenian TV in her spare time.
Ani had almost finished her plate when she got the call.
“Hello, is this Annie Uh-vak-ean?” the voice of an older woman demanded.
Ani stood and bumped into Talar’s knees on her way out of the room, Talar rubbing them dramatically and putting on a mock-hurt face. Ani replied, “Yes, this is. May I ask who is calling?”
“This is Jeannie Tilde,” said the voice, “of Tilde Florists in Napa Valley.”
Ani swallowed hard. Jeannie herself, the legendary owner of the fanciest florist in Napa, was calling her. And she sounded pissed.
“Jeannie, an honor to hear from you. Could I please ask why you’re calling?”
Her pulse was already racing. Had Kami gone rogue and called up the florist requesting changes? Ani paced down the hall to the bedrooms, absently viewing family photos on the walls.
“Well, I wish I could say I returned the sentiment, but after I heard what had happened from Madison, I had to call you up myself to talk to the most unprofessional wedding planner I’ve ever encountered.”
Me? Ani wondered. Was Jeannie talking about me?
She quickly racked her brain for any interaction with the florists that could have been construed as inappropriate.
She had called them a week ago to confirm their mega-order, had spoken with Madison, and all had gone well.
The deposit was paid, the details were correct, and her conversation had been cordial. So why…?
Ani drew up her courage and said, “I’m sorry, Jeannie, I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Maybe there’s been a misunderstanding?”
Jeannie scoffed. “You’re damn right there’s been a misunderstanding. What planner calls to confirm the details and then a week later cancels the entire order?!”
Ani’s stomach dropped, a cold wave of dread washing over her as she gripped the phone tighter. Her palms were slick with sweat, and she could feel her heartbeat thudding in her ears. Canceled? How could the order have been canceled? She hadn’t spoken to them or made any type of contact in a week.
“I…Wha—” Ani started to say, but Jeannie wasn’t through.
“After we spent significant time and expense ordering the absolute bushel of flora that was requested. Do you think it was easy, securing ranunculus at this time of year?”
“Jeannie,” Ani dared to interrupt. “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t cancel the order—”
A photo of Ani, Talar, and her parents in a photo studio from the early 2000s, complete with questionable millennium fashion such as Ani’s dress over a pair of jeans, stared at her as she attempted to process this conversation.
“Sure you’re sorr— Wait, excuse me, what? Yesterday, Madison spoke to a young woman who said with conviction that the entire Mardian-Zhang order was to be canceled, lock, stock, and barrel. ‘Your services are no longer required.’ Those were the exact words.”
Ani’s mouth dropped open but nothing came out. A young woman. Who…? Because it wasn’t her. Her mind raced, scrambling for answers.
Was it Sanan? Maybe there’d been some miscommunication and Sanan thought she had to cancel?
But no, that didn’t make sense. Sanan would never do something like that, even accidentally.
She dotted her i’s and crossed her t’s. Or…
Kami—had she spiraled again, panicked about some detail, and canceled everything in a moment of impulsivity?
Ani’s chest tightened at the thought. Linen colors were one thing, but there was no way she’d cancel the entire flower order. Ani would check anyway.
Or, with the paparazzi lurking around lately, was it someone else entirely? Someone trying to sabotage the wedding, to stir up drama for a headline? The possibilities swirled in her mind, each one more unsettling than the last. This was insane. This was movie shit; this was not real life.
“Jeannie, please believe me, I’m not sure who made that call, but it wasn’t me. The wedding is on and your flowers are going to be the crown jewel of the whole affair. It’s going to be nothing without you.”
“Absolutely right about that.” Jeannie let out some kind of huff, but she sounded less angry.
“I know it, believe me. I’m going to talk to my, uh, associates, and see what happened here. For now, will you accept my deepest apologies to you and to Madison, and can we please ensure that everything is back on, exactly as planned?”
There was a brief silence on the other line. Ani held her breath.
“I’d like to, but I’m just not sure anymore. Something feels fishy.”
You could sure as hell say that again, Ani thought. But this was not okay. Not in the least.
“Listen, Jeannie, I’m in the Peninsula, but I can be at your shop in about two hours. I’ll come by and I’ll have answers by then and we can figure this out.”
Silence again. “I’ll be here,” Jeannie said, then promptly hung up.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Ani wasn’t exaggerating or puffing up Jeannie when she said the flowers were going to be the wedding’s showpiece.
Flowers were essential, and there was no possible way to book a reputable florist for a wedding happening in two weeks.
She quickly texted Sanan, sure that this had nothing to do with her but hoping her assistant might have some info.
Ani turned and was met with Talar, leaning against the wall under a photo of their parents kissing at their tenth anniversary party. Ani had apparently been born nine months later. A fact she did not need to know.
“Trouble in wedding-land?” Talar asked.
There was no point in denying it; Talar seemed to have heard enough. “Uh, you could say that. Sorry I have to take off so soon.”
Ani’s phone buzzed. Sanan had no idea what was up and seemed very concerned. Ani would give her a call soon, hopefully once everything was smoothed over, if she managed it.
“Well, don’t be sorry, ’cause I’m coming with you.”
Ani wrinkled her nose. “No you’re not. You’ve always got stuff to do. This one trip is going to take the rest of the day.”
“Oh, yes I am. I never see you anymore. I’m busy every second of the weekday, and you’re always busy on weekends. This is a rare Saturday when you don’t have a wedding and I don’t have a crushing caseload. I need sister time.”
Ani sighed. She wanted sister time, too.
But she had been hoping, because she had to head to Napa anyway, that she could see Raffi.
Now that wasn’t going to happen. She and Raffi had never stipulated that they keep their relationship a secret from their own families, but considering Talar’s views of good-for-nothing Raffi Garabedian, Ani wasn’t exactly eager to introduce them.
Ani had seen Raffi once last week, luckily.
He’d come to San Francisco, taken her out to a ridiculously nice restaurant where the staff came out with dishes in a way that felt perfectly choreographed, and she was surprised to find she enjoyed their take on haggis.
They’d had a romp in bed that evening that still consisted of Raffi keeping his pants on.
And Ani had grown impatient. She wanted to show him she trusted him.
Tonight in Napa could have been an impromptu sex night, but now it seemed she’d be missing him entirely.
Because Ani couldn’t deny that she’d been deprived of sister time for far too long.
“You’re right. Now we have to break it to Mom and Bab.”
About two hours later, as Ani had promised Jeannie, the two sisters walked into Tilde. Talar had assured Ani that she could back her up as her lawyer, and even though Ani said that was not necessary for this diplomatic mission, Talar still put on her meanest litigator mug.
Jeannie appeared, short, thin, and fashionable, with her arms crossed and her brows knitted.
“Jeannie,” Ani said, and extended her arm. “Ani Avakian, here as promised. Let’s clear this up.”