Chapter 39
Brooke
Judy’s office—no, it’s Paige’s office now—is already redecorated. The Spencer Soirees sign out front has been taken down, ready to be replaced. I sit in a new ivory arm chair across from Paige. The desk is the same, but a new iMac sits on top of it.
Paige tells me the other side of the story. She was told that not only was I aware of the sale, but I was looking forward to it. That I never wanted the pressure of owning the agency and was relieved that Judy found someone to buy it.
All of it bullshit, straight from Judy.
She asked to meet with me about the transition weeks ago, but Judy used the Quincy wedding as an excuse to keep me out of the loop.
Paige had been looking to open an east coast branch for her San Francisco-based agency for a while.
Judy heard through an industry friend and approached Paige last summer. Last summer.
The overwhelming hurt of Judy’s actions hasn’t subsided, but I’m relieved Paige isn’t the villain I thought she was. Despite her somewhat cold exterior, she’s kind. She speaks to me as an equal and compliments the execution of the wedding weekend.
I’ve all but made up my mind about what’s best for me, but I need to have this conversation first. Since the business is now hers, it’s up to her if she wants to enforce my noncompete, for me or anyone else who might leave because of this transition.
I swore Maddie to secrecy about what Judy did.
I care about my coworkers too much to put them in the position of choosing between their livelihood and what they might think is the right thing to do.
As far as they need to know, Judy’s lies are the truth.
“You were a huge part of the reason I wanted to buy this agency, Brooke,” Paige says. “Your reputation is impeccable. You’ve got Manhattan planners keeping an eye on your work. A few of my friends felt pretty snubbed when you managed to get Hannah’s wedding.”
“I was just as surprised as they were.”
It’s still a shock to me that we landed it. That we were forced to work with Foley’s, with Caleb. Nothing this summer went according to plan. When Judy stunned me by agreeing to work with Foley’s, I prepared myself for some inevitable drama. Nothing could have prepared me for what unfolded.
“Not to mention all the wonderful things your mother told me about you.”
I’m unable to hide my laughter. Paige looks at me quizzically. “I’m sorry…we have a complicated relationship.”
“Mothers and daughters usually do,” she says. She’s not wrong, but I think we’re on a different level. “But she spoke so highly of you and your work. Showed me reviews from your clients. She’s proud of you, Brooke.”
She’s proud of how I reflect on her. My praise is her praise. But Judy only ever wants the good. Not the bad or the ugly. Not the mistakes. Not the struggles and hardships. She never once told me she was proud. And her actions never reflected it.
“Thank you,” I say. What else can I say?
I’m sure she’s not interested in our dirty laundry.
Mom’s character doesn’t matter anymore. The papers are signed.
The wire transfers are complete. The new Summer Soirees sign is being installed.
All Paige needs to know is Judy created a successful wedding planning agency that executed their biggest event with flying colors.
The feature will be in the Times next Sunday.
“My hope was that you would run this office, Brooke. You’re more than capable. I’ll be back and forth between here and San Francisco. Here a bit more as we transition, but for all intents and purposes, this,” she says, gesturing around the office space, “would be yours.”
It’s tempting. It’s so tempting. Spencer Soirees has been my life for six years, and weddings for longer than that.
I did learn a lot from Judy. All the wonderful things she passed along, but also the pain points of running this business.
Paige and her team in San Francisco might handle a lot, but is the headache of being a business owner worth it if it’s not truly mine?
This is what Caleb has been trying to explain to me. That making something out of nothing yourself can be so meaningful. I want to build something from scratch, but I don’t want to do it on my own. I want to do it with him.
“I appreciate that, Paige. But Summer Soirees won’t be the same as Spencer Soirees would have been.
Taking it over was always my dream, but I have a new one now.
One I didn’t realize until recently. I’d like to stay on and finish out my weddings for the season, if that’s okay.
I hope it is. There are a lot of amazing planners here, but I don’t want to bail on my couples. ”
“I understand,” she says, clasping her hands together on the desk. “I wish this had worked out differently.”
“Me too,” I say, getting up to leave.
“Brooke,” she says as I reach the door. “This new dream…will it be an issue with the noncompete? I don’t want to have to enforce it, but I have to look out for the business.”
“No, I don’t think so,” I say. “It’s going to take a little while to come together.”
Being a wedding planner has taught me that you can plan and prepare as much as possible with dozens of backup plans, but something is always going to come up.
With weddings, I’ve always managed to roll with it, figuring out how to fix the problem and putting the fire out.
It’s time for me to apply that to my own life.
I need to learn to roll with it. I start by rolling myself right to therapy.
I had my first real appointment this morning.
“You’re dealing with a textbook narcissist,” Dr. Drury said.
That’s when the tears came again. Deep down, I knew it.
My friends tiptoed around it to keep me safe, but it all blew up.
“It’ll take a lot to work through it,” she told me.
“The first step I’m going to recommend is a hard one: It might be best to go no contact with your mom for a little while. ”
Not so hard, Doc. Judy took care of that for me. I haven’t heard from her. I’d gotten so used to her constant checking in and micromanaging about work that her silence is deafening.
Dr. Drury thinks Judy is distancing herself so she can manipulate the narrative.
She can tell her lies. The people that matter to me know the truth.
She also tells me to stop calling her Judy.
She understands why I’m doing it, but I’ll be able to work through this better if I acknowledge she’s my mom and call her that.
I hate that she’s probably right.
After the session, I’m not sure if I feel better or worse. But I’m meeting Caleb at the farm, so I let myself forget about all of it for a little while.
It’s golden hour when I arrive, and it’s breathtaking. The entire view is drenched in the soft glow of the sun. Some of the trees are beginning to turn stunning shades of red, yellow, and orange. Jordan’s going to love this spot for photos if everything works out the way I hope it will.
Wendell comes barreling toward me on his little legs. I squat down when he reaches me and give him some love. Caleb’s up at the main house with the inspector. I catch his attention and point to the old barn.
Wendell walks by my side. Even with his bounding energy, he’s slow in the overgrown grass. I chuckle watching him barely manage through the path. He’s so not a country dog, but he’s a good boy who sits patiently while I survey the outside of the barn.
The list forms in my head. Repair and repaint the outside. Replace the old doors. Cut out a matching entry on the opposite side. Install a patio. Add windows for more light. Electric. Plumbing. This will take well over a year.
Wendell whines next to me. “Okay, buddy. We’ll go inside.”
Nothing’s changed since the last time Caleb brought me here. Why would it? But it looks different. The possibilities I first saw are still here, but they aren’t a far-off vision for someone else to bring to life. They’re the possibilities for me to build, with Caleb. If he’ll have me.
The list for inside is longer. Repair or renovate…pretty much everything. Add flooring. Storage will be necessary to keep a stock of linens and chairs. Good chairs that couples will want to use. No client of ours will have to rent chairs. Painting. Lighting.
Last week, Caleb and his parents finalized the details of expanding the Foley’s brand to include the farmhouse property. It’s still in the family, but it’s all Caleb’s. His dream, his vision. One that I hope can include me.
After the inspection, Caleb will go into contract and work will begin. Joey’s coming back to Foley’s to manage the Market. Paul will head catering, but he’ll also mentor staff to handle on-site operations for weddings. Paul and Lynne aren’t quite as ready to step back as they thought they were.
Somehow, this summer felt like a million years and only a few seconds at the same time. We dove straight into a relationship with barely a conversation about what happens next. Declarations in the heat of the moment are wonderful, but what does happen next?
“Hey.”
“Jesus Christ, Caleb.” I smack his arm. “One of these days, I’m going to end up punching you in the face.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He grabs my waist with both hands, pulling me closer. I wrap my hands around his neck and play with the waves at the nape of his neck. We sway back and forth. As I look around, a thought pops into my head, and I must make a face.
He taps my temple. “What’s going on in there?”
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head and burying that this is the exact spot I picture a dance floor.
“I think I have an idea,” he smirks, showing off that dimple I love so much.
“How did the inspection go?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Good, there are a few things we need to ask the sellers about, but we should be good to close next month.”
“Caleb,” I grin at him. “You’re doing it.”
“I’m scared shitless.”
“As you should be. If it wasn’t scary, it wouldn’t be worth doing. It’s going to be incredible. I’m so proud of you.”
He kisses my forehead.
“Brooke,” he says, at the same time I say his name.
I need to get over my nerves. “Me first.”
His arms relax around me. “You first.”
I take a deep breath. In and out. “I keep thinking about what you asked me a few weeks ago…if working at the agency is what I wanted. I thought it was. I didn’t know anything different.
I keep trying to come up with something else, anything else, but I love weddings.
I know you wanted to do this for yourself.
Creating this beautiful place is that something that was missing for you, and I want to ask if I could help.
I love working with you and god, this barn would make such a beautiful wedding venue. I know it’s not part of the plan but—”
“Brooke,” he says, cupping my cheek. “It’s you. You’re my something. You were what was missing. I can’t wait to make this dream come true, but even if it all falls apart, it doesn’t matter as long as you’re standing next to me…rolling your eyes at me for fucking it all up.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes at that. There’s no way he’s fucking this up.
“Is this what you want?” He’s smiling. “To turn this run-down barn into a venue?”
I nod. Besides him, it’s what I want more than anything.
“Thank god,” he says, dipping his head back in relief.
“It wasn’t in the original plan, but I’ve been thinking about it ever since I first brought you here.
This only works if it’s you and me. This plan, this dream, it’s been something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.
It wasn’t until I saw you at Warehouse Party that I started to work on it.
Ever since, whenever I imagine what this will look like, you’re there. And you’ve always been here.”
He takes one of my hands in his and holds it to his chest.
“I should have told you earlier this summer. Hell, I should have told you five years ago. You’re everything to me, Brooke. And I want to give you everything. I can’t get Spencer Soirees back for you, but this barn is yours, if that’s what you want. Is it?”
“It is,” I say.
“Good. Because I love you, Brooke, and that’s what I want too.”
I smile and he looks at me expectantly.
“I know you do, Caleb.”
He laughs with his entire body. “That wasn’t the response I was expecting.”
“I knew you loved me when you offered to make a hundred gourmet cheeseburgers for my clients and only charged them the cost of Happy Meals.
I knew you loved me when you took me to urgent care and spent the half hour I was with the doctor learning about migraines.
When you punched a wedding guest in the face.
When you cook for me. When you draw me a bath.
“I’ve been told I love you before, but it was always conditional.
I don’t know that I’ve been truly loved by some of the people who’ve said it.
I love hearing you say it…please keep saying it, obviously, but you’ve shown me you love me all summer long.
You’ve done it without conditions and without expecting anything in return. I love you too, Caleb.”
The goofiest smile appears on his face. He leans down as I lift myself up on my tiptoes. His lips brush against mine gently, his tongue parting my lips slowly, and we take our time. It feels like we have all the time in the world.
Until Wendell whines at our feet and jumps, pawing Caleb for attention.
“You’re sure you want to do this together?” We may love each other, but this is a big step. A giant one.
“There’s no one else I’d trust it with. It won’t be as exciting as a new venue each weekend—"
I smile. “It’ll be better.”
“You’re sure about this? You could be a lady of leisure for the next two years until the noncompete is up, but I know you, and you’ve already got a laundry list of ideas.”
“Well…I am getting sick of all the schlepping,” I say. “But it’ll be worth it to get to work with you every day. Walk home with you every night?” I know exactly where I got the boldness to suggest our home would be the same place. Caleb. I can say exactly what I want, what I need with him.
“You want my home to be your home?”
“Is that okay?”
“Is that okay?” He scoffs. “Obviously, babe.”