Chapter 35 #2
Krista takes the lead on the final reception details and Maddie takes the lead on the ceremony. When I see the look on her face as Baxter stands next to her, I’m tempted to swap them. They were fine yesterday.
“What’s going on there?”
“What?” Maddie looks at me, confused. “Oh, him…we’re just off again.
He told me I was quote too much. Like I’ve never heard that before.
He’ll be groveling by the time we’re done here.
” She winks, throwing on the hood of her raincoat and heading out to work with Baxter and his team on the flooring, leaving me with Judy and this mystery woman.
“Good morning, Judy.” I smile and extend my hand to the tall blonde. “Hi, I’m Brooke.”
“Brooke, this is my friend, Paige,” Judy says.
Friend. She’s never been one to have friends.
Acquaintances, sure. Colleagues, of course.
Friends, actual friends, I don’t think she’s had one of those in a long time.
Now I know why. The anger I’ve been holding on to for the last week slowly melts into pity.
I can’t imagine not having people like Maddie and Jordan in my life.
“Lovely to meet you, Brooke,” Paige says.
“Paige wanted to see Spencer Soirees in action, so I thought I’d bring her along today.”
I have so many questions, like who is this woman and why does she care about seeing us in action, but I’m interrupted by Krista calling me from across the tent for what I’m sure is the first of many fires I’ll be putting out today.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” I say. “Lovely to meet you.”
Paige looks so familiar, but I don’t have time to figure out why, because it’s raining sideways into the tent and the tables closest to the edge are about to be ruined. Shit.
“All hands!” The team hears my call and rushes over to the side of the tent that’s currently getting drenched.
Krista and I move the nearest table and chairs as close to the next table as possible.
Without needing instructions, everyone knows exactly what to do.
We make quick work of moving the tables along the edge as far in as we can.
A few of the tables are soaked, but at least it stopped raining sideways, back to a regular old downpour now.
We strip the ruined tablecloths and I make a plan.
Krista takes the linens into the house to throw in the dryer—we’ll iron them later—while the assistants dry the silverware and plates.
We’ll put the tables back together in a few hours.
I’ve already made the call not to put the tent sides on. I hope I don’t regret it later.
“Impressive.”
I peek out from under the hood of my raincoat. “Kevin, hi! Thank you.”
“Is now a terrible time to ask you a few questions?”
I survey the room and find that everyone is on task. “No, not at all.”
“Great,” Kevin says, pulling a small notebook from his coat pocket. “I had the chance to speak with Judy earlier, sounds like there are exciting things to come for the agency.”
“Oh.” I feel myself stand taller as a smile creeps at the corners of my mouth. “Yes, yes, very exciting things.”
“What are you looking forward to about the next chapter?” Next chapter. He’s asking what I think he’s asking, isn’t he?
I clear my throat. “Spencer Soirees has been a cornerstone of the wedding industry in Charter Oaks for decades, and we’re honored to work with so many esteemed vendors and lovely clients. Carrying on the legacy Judy built will be a huge honor.”
Kevin looks up from his notebook and gives me a curious look.
“Yes, of course, love that,” he says. “Tell me what it’s been like working with Hannah and Preston.” I tell him about how wonderful they are and answer his follow-up questions about their vision. The rest of the day goes by in a blur.
By the grace of Mother Nature or some karma I’m owed from a past life, the skies clear around five o’clock.
Right in time for guest arrivals at 5:30.
All my weather apps show mostly clear skies.
The chance of intermittent thunderstorms for the remainder of the evening is down to twenty percent. That I can work with.
The grass is still a complete disaster, but the aisle Baxter put down will allow us to keep the ceremony outside under what is now a picture-perfect sky. Exactly what Hannah envisioned.
I check in with Maddie and Krista. Both are on top of their work, per usual. We all do our last checks to be sure we’re good to go, assistants following each of them in case anything needs fixing. My phone buzzes in my belt bag.
Jordan: SOS groomsmen need help with their boutonnieres.
The florist was supposed to use magnets. Or are they already so drunk they can’t figure out magnets? I let Jordan know I’m on my way and head to the pool house.
The lovely aroma of stale beer and too much cologne hits me right in the face when I let myself in. This place needs fresh air, stat. Even if that air is hot and humid. I prop the door open with a rock.
“I’m all set with them,” Jordan says by way of greeting. “They’re all yours.”
“Whoa, put that down before you crush it and stab your friend here.” I rush over to a groomsman with his fist over the small floral arrangement, about to poke his fellow groomsmen right in the chest. I take everything away from him and get to work pinning boutonnieres to each of the groomsmen’s lapels.
I pick up the largest of the boutonnieres and head over to Preston, where he sips what is hopefully only his first glass of whiskey.
“How are you feeling?” I mumble, pinheads in between my teeth. He’s either ready to run or enjoying a quiet moment alone.
“Um…good…I think,” he says, looking for the right words. “…just a little nervous, maybe. I don’t usually get nervous. It’s weird.”
Oh, to be a wealthy white man. I hold the boutonniere to his lapel and push one pin up from the bottom. “It’s a feeling I know well, Preston. And it’s a completely normal one to be having right now. Anything I can do to help?”
“Have you seen Hannah?” he asks, bashfully.
“I have,” I say, smiling as I push the second pin into the boutonniere from the top. It’s always a treat to see the grooms like this. Anxious, excited, not trying to hide any emotion. “Tell your best man to be ready to catch you. She looks stunning.”
“Thanks, Brooke.” He smiles with a little more confidence. “I’m sure she does.”
Heading out the door, I grab the best man.
“Get that one some coffee, ASAP,” I say, pointing to Gage, the groomsman who was a royal pain in my ass yesterday.
“I can’t have him stumbling up there during the ceremony.
Make sure the two of you who are next to him keep him upright.
I’ll tell the bridesmaid paired with him for the recessional to do the same. ”