4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Dallas
I feel otherworldly as I walk into my new job Monday morning, with thoughts of Billy the Local pinging in my head.
Hugging him was a boost to my whole psyche—a totally unexpected shot of pleasure on a very strange night.
I could use another dose of Billy right now because when I say I’m feeling “otherworldly,” it’s not as in “so achingly beautiful and exotic that no one can describe me.”
But otherworldly as in…Martian-like. Green around the gills, with a flustered set of nerves. Almost like I’m still a kid and everyone around me is a fully-fledged adult. A rush of air billows in my ears, like I’m wearing noise-canceling headphones. My head is airy, like I’m detached from the rest of my body. Like I’m somehow taller than I was yesterday.
Which would really be something for my five foot three-ness.
I’m actually five foot two and a quarter, but I decided long ago to round up and I can’t just magically change my height all the sudden, right?
Anyway, I arrive at the Integrity Construction building on Main at 7:45 AM sharp, with a tiny stress ball in each blazer pocket. I’m employed by Willow Cove’s mayor, Martha Dobbs, who has just started a side gig—a wedding venue business. Mayor Dobbs subleases a couple of offices inside the construction company that’s heading the renovation of Willow Wood Mansion.
Integrity Construction is housed in a Victorian home, painted in bright blue with white trim. Scalloped siding adds a decorative touch above the carved, stained glass-inlaid front door, which is painted a pale yellow. I was told to be here at eight, but being exactly on time is for duds.
Since the debacle in Atlanta with the Clancy and Bozzelli weddings, I cannot afford to be a dud, so I am early, like always. The sooner I rock this job and get back in Shoshana’s good graces, the sooner I can return to Atlanta where I belong.
The Clancys and the Bozzellis: two of the most powerful families in the south. It was my moment, the exact right next step in my five-year plan where I’ll eventually take over Amore, with Shoshana’s blessing. She wants to retire. I needed these weddings to work perfectly. They were a very big deal.
But when I found out that Holden and McKenna were dating, I felt betrayed. Not by Holden, since he’d been a diversion. He was not part of my big career plans. Once I run Amore, I can think about dating again.
No, it was McKenna who hurt me by not telling me they were dating. We told each other everything. She was the sister I never had. And yeah, I didn’t like that my cousin and ex were dating, but for her to have all of this happen and not even tell me?
I was off my game for the Saturday Clancy and Bozzelli weddings. So flustered over the news that I sent the cakes to the wrong wedding. When I learned of my mistake, I rushed to fix it, but the receptions were delayed. The mothers of the brides were horrified. Angry. And they insisted I was fired.
Shoshana had no choice but to let me go, sending me to Willow Cove since the mayor here was her college roommate. “Just until this all blows over. Work there for one wedding season, maybe two. Those mothers will get over it and then it won’t be a big deal to have you come back,” she’d said.
So here I am. In Willow Cove.
Billy from the other night was a surprising welcoming gift. And the way we hugged?
Never before has a hug had levels of meaning to it beyond just the surface stuff. It was both casual and tight. Not “I can’t breathe” tight. More “We fit quite nicely” tight.
Very unlike a mama turtle to her babies. More like a joey to his mama kangaroo. All warm and comfortable. And good.
We joeyed. Is that a thing? It should be a thing. Except, it wasn’t familial. More like an instant comfort. Like if you could spoon standing up and facing each other.
Yeah. That.
Reversed, standing spooning.
I blink rapidly to get my head in the game in my new job. Past the narrow entryway, there’s a small room with a couple of tufted sofas, potted plants, and an ornate front desk. “Hi,” I say with a big smile to the woman at the front desk. “I’m Dallas Cardon. I’m starting my new job today.”
“You’re Dallas?” The woman frowns, her penciled-in brows arching in confusion.
“Yes.” And then it occurs to me. Rookie mistake, not remembering why she’s looking at me like this. It’s because my head’s in a wind tunnel. “I’m Dallas Olivia Cardon. There are women named Dallas!” I offer a breezy laugh and press a hand to my chest. “And I am one of them.”
I don’t mention that my mom went utterly crazy when she was pregnant with me and insisted I was named after the prime time soap “Dallas,” something she used to watch religiously as a kid with her parents. It was either that or “Dynasty.” All of those not familiar with those shows, count yourselves lucky. Although the whole “Who killed J.R.?” thing really did grip an entire nation in a totally impressive way. I’ve googled it.
I’m just forever grateful she didn’t choose to name me “Dynasty.”
And for reference, my younger brothers are named Aragorn after the character from Lord of the Rings and Caspian from The Chronicles of Narnia .
At least she didn’t name either of her sons after Robin Williams’s character in “Mork and Mindy,” another show she watched as a kid.
See? Guardian angels making sure kids aren’t named truly embarrassing names do exist!
So, yes. My totally sane, successful, and brilliant attorney mother loses all common sense in pregnancy and my father (also a top-notch tax attorney) loves her too much in her postnatal, tender state to argue with her.
“Oh! Well, I think it’s a nice name,” the front desk woman says, who, according to the placard on the desk, is named a very lovely “Mary.”
“Thank you.”
“When Mayor Dobbs sent over your info, we assumed you were a man, that’s all.” Her smile falters a little as her gaze dips down to take me in all my petite glory.
My tongue darts out to moisten my lips. “Not the first time that’s happened.”
“It’s not a big deal of course,” Mary says warmly.
“So, you all were talking about me, huh?” I lean in and tilt my head conspiratorially.
“We don’t get many new hires. Especially ones from out of state like this. It’s been kind of exciting.”
“Well, I hope to live up to the hype!”
Mary beams. “You’ll love Mayor Dobbs. She should be coming by later, but she wanted me to get you started. Now that she’s subleasing offices here in our building, I’m working as her receptionist, too.” She tells me where my new office is, pointing down the hall. I heft my laptop bag higher on my shoulder and find it. The door is already open, so I enter and set my stuff down on the desk.
It’s sufficient. Small. There’s not room for very many vendor samples to be stored here, which is a bit of a disappointment. Hopefully the new venue that will house the weddings will have some storage space. I crack the window to clear out some of the stuffiness. I can’t wait to start bringing in things to decorate.
The importance of setting the tone of my services as a wedding planner can’t be overstated. If my clients can see I have good taste in office décor, they’ll hopefully trust me to put together a beautiful wedding.
And I know how to put together a beautiful wedding, let me tell you.
It’s not long before Mary knocks on my open door with an exaggerated “Knock, knock!”
She’s grinning ear to ear, her thick, silvery hair beginning to fall out of her low clip. “How do you like your new space? Walter, who was a foreman on Beck’s crew before he retired, sort of trashed it in all the years he was here. Don’t know what the man even did in here half the time.” She pinches the bridge of her nose.
Mary takes a delighted-sounding breath and continues on. “You’re coming on board at the beginning. Mayor Dobbs purchased Willow Wood Mansion not long ago. In addition to restoring one of our town’s historic treasures and something that had been in her family years ago, the mayor thought she could make some money renting it out. Weddings are a big business.”
“They certainly are.” The entire Amore Wedding Planning Firm in Atlanta, Georgia makes very good revenue off that fact.
“The mayor knows it’s a long-term investment, but I’m confident with your help and Beck’s reno job, we’ll get there,” Mary says.
Beck Billingsley. Shoshana mentioned his name when she talked about the mansion renovation.
I’m not going to be here long term, but if Mayor Dobbs lets Shoshana know that I did a good job, I can get back to Atlanta and The Plan .
“Thanks, Mary. But I was under the impression that the wedding venue was nearly ready to go.”
She laughs, crinkling up her nose. “Whoever told you that? There have been issues with everything. And Beck had an unfortunate personal experience a few months back, so the mayor’s been understanding about the progress being a little slow.”
“I…” I trail off. Did I assume the mansion would be ready since, according to one of the emails from the mayor, the first wedding of the season is in four weeks?
And who is this Beck and what happened in his personal life?
All that’s of little consequence right now.
“Before Mayor Dobbs bought Willow Wood, the old mansion wasn’t in good condition.” She shakes her head. “Beck and his guys have been working hard on it. They’re busy, though. Lots of big projects going on around town, plus they’ve submitted a bid to build a fabulous new wing of the YMCA. It’s going to be something else! They even want to do the labor for free and donate some of the supplies. Fingers crossed they win the bid.”
She’s saying lots of important sounding things, but I’m still hung up on the mansion not being ready.
“And,” Mary continues, “we’ve got you now. A real, big-city wedding planner with great experience.” The hope in her eyes gets me right in the gut.
I thank her, my mind going a hundred different directions.
“Oh,” she steps through the doorway again and is next to me in a flash. “There’s a meeting at nine in the conference room. That’s where you’ll meet everyone, the mayor included. She’s joining us this time since this is your first day.” Mary’s positively glowing at the mention of the mayor. “I’m thinking after that, Beck will get you started officially. And there should be someone from IT coming to set up your internet and all that.” She offers a warm smile. “Do you have any questions?”
I tell her no. I’m not going to say, I need to get started, do a bang-up job, and then get a perfect review from the mayor so I can leave. No one knows I’m not planning to stay long.
She leaves with a little pat on my arm. I follow her to the doorway of my office and rub a finger along the dust on the top of the light switch plate.
This place is a far cry from where I came.
Oh, how far I have fallen.
I just need my designer office supplies in here STAT. My scissors and tape dispensers and erasers all in gorgeous shades of cotton tail, brookside moss, and tangerine dream are going to go a long way into helping me channel the Amore Wedding Planning Firm. And in helping me get back on my feet.
I was a tad distracted after the whiplash of having my boyfriend break up with me and start secretly dating my cousin. Now I’m hugging some guy named Billy in a misguided attempt to make them…what? Jealous?
They did politely wave to us when Billy and I left the beach. And I offered a breezy “See ya around!” before we left. Billy walked me to my car, and we didn’t look back, my ego simultaneously bruised at seeing such a public and handsy display by the happy, we-vacation-together-now couple. I was buoyed by the feelings that hugging such a manly man as Billy brought to the surface. He must do blue-collar work because his build was solid .
Not that I’ll see him again, although I wouldn’t be opposed to planning his brother’s wedding. In that case, maybe Billy and I could even hug again. Because that hug was not bad at all. Precisely what I didn’t know I needed.
It’s not going to happen.
I have to get back to Atlanta, and he seemed like the kind of guy who would never leave Willow Cove.
“Nice to finally meet you in person, Dallas. Shoshana has only had good things to say about you.” Mayor Dobbs scrunches up her shoulders near her ears in an excited gesture.
The woman next to me interrupts. “—And Dallas is not a man!”
The mayor ignores her. “Hopefully you’re settling into town okay.” She looks around the table at the others in attendance at the meeting. “I was glad when Shoshana, my college roommate and Dallas’s former boss, connected us. My husband and I have poured a lot of time and money into our new wedding venue business. Willow Wood was built by my great-grandparents but was sold when they passed on. To have the opportunity to buy it and restore it has been a dream come true.” She fixes me with a stare. “Basically, no pressure, but this has to work.”
A titter of polite laughter filters through the group. I nod and smile, listening intently as the mayor introduces everyone else in the room. It still stings that Shoshana is my former boss.
But as I start learning everyone’s names and titles, I’m struck with a feeling of calm. I’ve got this. I’m not arrogant—I don’t think—but I am confident, a necessity for a wedding planner, I’d say. And I doubt there can be anything that can best me here. I’ve planned weddings for many southern debutantes and their mothers in Atlanta. This? Weddings for locals and tourists at one simple venue this summer? Cake. Absolute cake.
Except, I choke like I’m trying to swallow a huge piece of cake when the last person to the meeting—he’s late, by the way—strolls in, unaffected by the fact that he’s interrupting. It’s Billy the Local. Billy from the beach.
He’s in a scrubby baseball cap, soft gray T-shirt with a faded logo of a backhoe next to a house with a large wave near it, and the most worn-out jeans I’ve ever seen, so perfectly molded to his features and the curve of his thighs that I can’t help but stare. Seriously. I’ve seen jeans like that retail for several hundred dollars, all worn out and faded by machines in the factory.
But Billy’s jeans? They’re all real. They’re the very definition of “made for him.”
All eight of us in the room turn to acknowledge him and no one seems fazed by his tardiness. They’re all just…really happy to see him.
He nods to a couple of people and even fist bumps one of the older gentlemen in the room. When Billy’s eyes land on me, they widen momentarily before his lazy, “I’m too cool for school” smile crosses his lips. “Hey, you,” he says as he slings himself into the chair next to mine, the only empty one at the table.
I’m sure my face is fused with plasticky confusion. What is he doing here, especially wearing clothes like that? Not that I’m complaining about the jeans! But if he’s coming here in any sort of official capacity, wouldn’t he have thought to at least change first? Or wash up? Now, with his face all close to mine, I catch a splatter of dirt on his cheek, and his clean sawdust scent with a note of musky soap.
“You’ve already met Beck?” Mayor Dobbs asks, beaming.
“Beck?”
“Beck Billingsley,” the mayor says, a cautious smile on her face as she spreads a hand to gesture to Billy.
I glance at him, with the side of my eye. “I’m—” I’m about to say confused, but I’m interrupted by Billy…or Beck.
“You’re our wedding planner? Dallas Cardon?”
I clear my throat and nod. “At your service.” I feel a little crooked smile start to perk across my lips. “Dallas Olivia Cardon. It’s not unheard of for a woman’s name, okay?”
Maybe that came out a little too aggressively.
He blinks. “Well, if you’d said something the other night—”
“You told me your name was Billy!”
He holds up a hand. “I never said it was Billy, my—”
The woman next to me snaps her fingers. “Oh, since you’re mentioning the other night, I was going to ask you about that.” I think at first that she’s talking to…Beck-not-Billy, but when I turn to look at her, she’s gazing at me. “What happened at the diner with the Kingston’s llama?”
I shoot out a laugh, even though it wasn’t very funny. “The esteemed Prince Harry spat on me.” This causes a round of laughter from the others.
“I happened to be there, Iris,” Beck says. “Dallas was simply enjoying her meal when Prince Harry let his affections be known. That’s all.”
“Georgie in the bakery across the street heard the scream. Said it was quite unsettling,” Iris says.
I’m aware that my mouth is dropped open. My cheeks begin to burn. “Oh! Well, I’m not used to llamas, so…” I laugh, trying to convey that it was not a big deal.
“Dallas.” Beck sighs and leans his bare forearms on the table. “You should feel honored. Prince Harry doesn’t spit on just anyone. And you’ve only been here a couple of days and already you’ve got the tongues wagging.
“And,” he continues, resting his head in his hand. Another splotch of dirt decorates his very capable-looking, muscular forearm. “There’s that actress, what’s her name? Ron Howard’s daughter. She’s called Dallas. So see?” He looks around the table, as if trying to convince everyone. “It’s not such a strange name.”
“Bryce Dallas Howard,” the woman directly across from me says, her finger going in the air. “I just love her. She’s so talented.”
I love her, too, and not just because of her name. Although, I can’t help but feel she really did all women named Dallas a solid when she starred in M. Night Shamalan’s The Village . Brilliant performance right there. And she’s a ginger like me!
“Agreed all the way around,” Mayor Dobbs says definitively. “And we would do well to leave the comments on gender out of our meetings.”
Mary offers a mhmm as she looks down at the meeting agenda. “So, Beck, you’ll get Dallas up to speed on all things Willow Wood Mansion pronto, correct?” She looks over her glasses at Beck and he nods. She turns to me. “Oh, and I have to mention that the very first wedding in the newly remodeled mansion is…drumroll please…Mayor Dobbs’s daughter, Lila’s.”
“The first bride now that Willow Wood is back in the family,” the mayor says. “Isn’t that wonderful? Also Dallas, Beck didn’t take over Integrity Construction from his father very long ago, but I’m confident with his leadership and your experience in the wedding field, you two will make this a successful venture. I have a lot riding on this, both personally and professionally.”
She begins speaking with Beck about permits for the city.
I squirm in my seat, trying to focus on typing notes on my laptop, while taking short breaks to squeeze a stress ball in my pocket.
The very first wedding in the venue is the mayor’s own daughter’s? The mayor…the person whose opinion matters most. The person who is restoring a piece of her family history. It would have been nice to cut my teeth here in Willow Cove on a wedding without the political and social pressure.
And then I have to deal with Beck. Beck-not-Billy is just a lot, filling up all the space in the room with his perfect jeans and perfectly placed splotches of dirt, just begging to highlight the cut of his jaw and the build of the sinews in his forearms. Besides, who smells as good as he does after clearly doing manual labor of some kind? It’s just not fair.
When the meeting ends, I close my computer, stand, and shove it in my bag. Beck is detained by no less than three people swarming him, saying things like, “Did you see the game on Friday?” and something about his mother.
I also overhear one of the women say, “How are you doing? It’s been months since Chloe…” She trails off and I don’t hear his answer.
Huh. Who is Chloe and what did she do months ago?
I slip out of the room and hurry down the hall, my neck growing hot. I just need to get to my office, shut the door, and get to work. I’ll make heads and tails of it all and create a plan to move forward.
Any and all plans I make have to be in keeping of The Plan , something that was threatened by letting Holden in my life.
I’ve learned from my mistake.
Except, Beck’s voice rings out behind me right as I open my office door. “Dallas, wait.”