Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Nessa
"So," Kari said, exchanging glances with Katie. It was Sunday morning, nine o'clock, and they were gathered in the conference room. No one looked like they had slept. "After Archie showed you the tide chart, what did you do?"
"I…" Nessa paused, trying to remember exactly. "I went to find someone from the Santorini team. The first person I saw was Jess, and I asked her if they'd checked, and she said there was no problem, the tide usually comes halfway up the beach. I tried to tell her this one was going to be different, but she said, 'It's the ocean , how different can it be?'"
"I'm from Nebraska," Katie said under her breath, "and even I know the answer to that."
Although Nessa was working hard to maintain some professional composure, a tear splashed on the conference table. She wiped it with her sleeve.
"I went to the catering tent and I told them what was probably going to happen. Same thing with the band, and the photographers. The wedding photographer and the magazine photographer."
"Magazine?" Katie asked in a faint voice.
"Because all those people use electrical cords," Nessa explained, sniffling a little.
"And still the party went forward as if nothing were going to happen?" Kari asked.
Ranney spoke up. "There was a chance nothing would happen. Obviously, if we had known in advance about the tide "–she glanced quickly at her daughter, then looked down at her lap and sighed–"we would have seen to it that the cabanas were sited differently. By the time we found out, there was nothing that could be done. But there was still a chance the water wouldn't come up inside. All we could do at that point was pray–and if it had stopped even one foot short…"
"But it didn't. You gambled and you lost. Is that about right?"
"Yes."
"And the structure that…" Kari looked at her notes, "...tipped over? Do I have that right?"
"When the water got up the cabana–there were these heavy linen curtains all along the sides, and they got wet. They just soaked up the water, and I guess they got so heavy, they were heavier than the frame. The wind made it worse. They pulled it out of the sand."
Kari closed her eyes for a long moment.
"But no one got hurt, right?"
"The one that tipped over was closest to the water. It was set up like a big living room in the sand, and it didn't have a floor to hold it down. There was nobody in there, everyone was in the dinner area."
"Thank God for that."
"Archie's guys carried the sofas up to the lawn, so they didn't get ruined."
"Oh, that must have looked good," Katie said, rubbing her forehead. "Like a tent sale. Or a high-end eviction."
"Jess came and told them where to place everything. Then they carried a lot of the tables and chairs up, and we brought the candles. The catering staff helped. Dinner was over by then, so they served the cake and dessert on the lawn. The magazine's art director said they would call it 'Surf and Turf'."
"Oh, God, the magazine," Katie moaned. "I have to call the editor at home as soon as we finish here. Maybe I can talk them out of publishing this if I get them an exclusive on the next Hollywood wedding we do."
"That's the thing, though," Ranney chimed in. "It wasn't as bad as you'd think. People were having a really good time–I think some of them thought it was planned. The Champagne just kept coming, and it was a beautiful night. The band switched over to acoustic, and there were all the candles–it looked kind of pretty. And it was more relaxed, people had that camaraderie that comes after a near-disaster–I mean, an exciting experience. Even the grooms were laughing by the end."
There was a moment of quiet while Kari and Katie absorbed this. It was interrupted by Katie's phone.
"It's George Torropoulos." She held up a finger and left the room.
"Kari?" It took all of Nessa's courage to draw any attention to herself at this point. She wished herself to be anywhere but in that room; in fact, she wished to be anyone in the world but herself. But here she was. "I am so sorry. I let the Santoristas handle it because I couldn't stop them, and–"
"The who? "
"The Santoristas–the team at Santorini." Even Kari cracked a tiny smile, and she was not in a smiling mood.
"I couldn't beat them, so I sort of joined them," Nessa went on. "I let them be in charge instead of doing my job. What happened is inexcusable, I know that. I know you would be totally justified in firing me…" her voice broke, and now the tears flowed freely. "And the worst part is that I let you down, you and Katie. You gave me responsibility, and I let you down."
"We did, Ness, but maybe we could have done a better job around that. There are lessons here for all of us, and it's too bad we're all learning them the hard way. Because, make no mistake, this is very, very bad for Wedding Protectors." She was about to say more when the door opened and Katie returned.
"What did he say?"
"They want to meet with us the day after they get back from Trancoso."
"Well, there's something to look forward to." Kari grimaced.
"He sounded unhappy, but he wasn't screaming," Katie said thoughtfully. "He used the word debrief , but he didn't say anything about a lawsuit."
" Lawsuit… " Nessa whispered in horror. How much worse could this get?
"There won't be any lawsuit," Katie told her, "because we're just going to refund their money."
That's how much worse it could get. Refund their money? At her current salary, she could pay that amount back to them by, let's see…never.
Kari saw the look on Nessa's face and said quietly, "We have insurance, Nessa."
Katie’s eyes cut over to Kari. “He mentioned borrowing one of Patrick’s paintings and perhaps being invited to one of Caleb’s private conferences.”
Astonishment bloomed on Kari’s face. “That’s — oh. Oh, dear. We’re going to have to ask our husbands to help us salvage a client situation, aren’t we?”
“There’s a first for everything.”
“I never thought of this when I married Caleb.”
“I’m sure Patrick never thought he’d be asked to be a fine art Rent-a-Center, but…”
“They’ll both say yes if it means rescuing us,” Katie said firmly. “But I think there’s plenty of room for negotiation. George is making big requests right now. Just because he asks doesn’t mean we give.”
“I love it when you speak MBA,” Kari said, her tone making Nessa unclench slightly. Maybe a millimeter.
"We'll see what happens when we meet with them," Katie added. "Ranney, we just have a couple of things to go over with Nessa before we finish up…"
She took the hint. "I'll be at my desk for a little while, in case there's anything else."
Nessa steeled herself for the worst. When the door had closed behind Ranney, Kari turned to her.
"There's one other thing we have to talk about, Nessa."
Instinctively, she tried to make herself smaller in her chair, but then a thought struck her: If they were going to fire her, wouldn't they just do it and get it over with? They wouldn't bother to bring anything else up, would they? They certainly had plenty of grounds to fire her already.
She squared her shoulders and waited.
"There are some photos floating around online that look like they might be you. And the other person in the photos–"
Katie interrupted. "If it's not you, then this is going to sound really strange, Ness…"
"The other person is that minister who's been doing so many weddings. What's his..?"
"Matt Draper. God's Gift." Katie did a tiny eye roll as she said the words.
"I did hear something about this, but I haven't seen anything," Nessa responded in a very small voice. "I was going to make some calls on the way home last night to try to figure it out, but…"
"You had other things on your mind?"
"Basically. What…"–it took all the courage she had left to even ask–"what are the photos?"
Kari picked up her phone, tapped, swiped, and handed it to Nessa.
Matt, running on the treadmill, a small woman with a blonde ponytail clinging to his back. Of course it was her. Now she remembered the guys taking pictures, then sitting on the benches, bent over their screens.
With some relief, she realized that–as Matt and Liv had both said–the photo was shot from behind and her face was away from the camera. You could tell by the curve of her profile that she was smiling, but that was all. The caption read, Grab your honey and run, but her name didn't appear.
"That's you, right?"
"Yes–I can explain–Matt was going to help me with strength training, and then this guy sort of challenged him–we didn't know anyone was going to post it, and I had a message from Matt that he was trying to get it taken down, and I won't let it happen again–"
"That's the thing, Nessa, it already has happened again."
Kari leaned over and swiped the screen, and there were Matt and Nessa at the restaurant. This time, her face was all too clear.
"Nessa, your personal life is your own," Katie said, "and of course we know you have an online presence. We just ask you to keep in mind that what you do publicly also reflects on us. The policy we have about dating clients"–they exchanged self-conscious glances–"has turned out to be a little tricky to apply, and Matt Draper isn't exactly a client anyway–"
"Client adjacent," Nessa whispered, but Katie didn't hear.
"–but please just remember that our reputation is built on privacy and discretion along with protection. If it starts to look like our employees are actively seeking this kind of publicity, that would be a strong deterrent to our clients. Having you date one of the most sought-after ministers in the wedding world might look like you’re chasing him for the wrong reasons.”
"I am dating him because I genuinely like him! And I didn’t even meet him through work. We met before the Barr-Hopper rehearsal!”
Katie and Kari exchanged blinking looks that made it clear they’d assumed otherwise.
“Sorry, Nessa. That’s a bit different,” Kari said smoothly.
“Not a lot different,” Katie said, contradicting her partner. “The origin is different, but if the end result is that potential clients think the wrong thing...”
"To be clear, we're not talking about your usual posts on style," Kari put in. "If anything, that's something you bring to the table. But whatever was happening at the gym, that's a little different."
"I know. I am so sorry," Nessa said miserably.
"I don't see how this can be good for him, either, workwise," Katie commented. "But that's not our problem. Your identity wasn't clear in these photos, so maybe we dodged a bullet there, but time will tell. You need to be aware of what's at stake going forward."
"Going forward," Kari repeated. "As I started to say, Katie and I bear some responsibility for what happened yesterday. We gave you too much responsibility too soon. You took your eyes off the ball, but we took our eyes off you. Going forward, Wedding Protectors will have junior- and senior-level project managers, and only senior managers will be heading up events. We'll have tighter oversight and more on-the-job experience. You can expect an all-hands meeting on this next week. For now, go home and get some rest–take tomorrow off, and we'll see you Tuesday."
They weren't firing her . For the first time since yesterday, she took in a full breath. Shakily, she stood and walked to the door.
"Thank you. And I just wanted to say–he doesn't call himself God's Gift–that's something his followers started. He had the idea to show kids that their bodies are something to take care of and feel good about, that's all. It's hard to control what happens online."
"Exactly. For the next week, we wait to see what gets posted online from–what did you call it? Surf and turf?" Katie gave a grimace worthy of Chrissy Teigen.
Out in the main area, Ranney sat at her computer, but Nessa could tell she was just staring at the screen, killing time. If she could have avoided her mother she would have, and she briefly considered whether crawling to the door on her stomach and elbows was a possibility.
Stop it , she told herself. She could have gone home after the meeting. It's a beautiful summer Sunday, but she's still here in the office because she cares about you.
Anyway, she never would have made it to the door on her stomach without being spotted.
"Nessa? How did it go? Did they…"
"Fire me? No. I'm kind of demoted, I guess, but not fired. They were pretty calm. I guess it could have been worse. But oh, Mom–" the tears started again.
"I know, honey. But you still have your job. You'll work really hard to make it up to them, and I know it seems impossible now, but we'll all laugh about this someday. Sort of. In that way you laugh about disasters when you survive them."
"I will never laugh about this."
"Okay, I see your point. Did they say anything else?"
Nessa hesitated. Did she want her mother to know about that gym photo? Absolutely not. But viral is viral, like an infectious disease, and she didn't want it to pop up unexpectedly in Ranney's feed, either. Maybe she could prepare her gently? It was hard to think clearly right now.
"They said that my influencer posts are actually an asset for Wedding Protectors."
"They did? "
"I think Kari said they're 'something that I bring to the table.' And they gave me a little advice about, ah, the direction that any future posts might take. Just, you know, the general tone of the content."
"That's great! I was so worried about what was going on in there, but that sounds very supportive, like they're lifting you up!"
"Mmm, well, they saw a photo of me online that was about being lifted up. In a way."
Ranney’s eyebrow uplifted, too. She stared through Nessa’s soul, blinking exactly once, waiting for a confession. Nessa held her breath, knowing her mother all too well.
Ranney broke the silence with a positive tone that made Nessa want to curl into a ball in her lap and have her hair stroked.
"You see, sweetie, women understand each other's struggles. What have Mamie and I always told you? Beauty is all well and good, but it's what's underneath that counts. Kari and Katie know that underneath your beautiful exterior, there is a wonderful, warm, caring human being."
"I don't remember Mamie ever saying that to me. I remember her telling me never to leave the house without my makeup on."
They smiled at each other. "Let's go," Ranney said. "I'll buy you an ice cream."
"How about a mimosa instead?"
“Make it two.” Ranney gave her a gimlet eye. “That should be enough to get you to tell me the truth about that photo.”
Maybe her mom knew her all too well, too.
"Deal."