One #2
But Ad Astra was not Alexis’s business. Nor would Valerie say anything of the sort to Nico, since she had the impression he was under a lot of stress.
He’d subtly let Valerie know that Malcolm Badgerton had been almost fanatically concerned with his reputation and status and reminded her this was the family’s final farewell.
Valerie understood and was ready for the challenge.
She’d considered every angle. There were spreadsheets and checklists out the wazoo.
She had paper trails and approvals and had accounted for every what-if she could think of.
The Malcolm Badgerton Celebration of Life was going to be perfect.
As she was thinking of a diplomatic way to ask Alexis to please not insult their bread and butter, the phone rang. It was her mother, and since her mother rarely called, she picked up immediately.
“Oh, Val, I have the most amazing news,” her mother said. “Erica is getting married!”
Figures it would be about her stepsister. Valerie’s free hand shook with the sudden force of the resentment she thought she’d put to rest years ago, and she clenched her fist to make it stop.
“That’s wonderful!” She made sure to smile as she spoke—Ruth’s trick to radiate authenticity during difficult calls. After all, love was good and weddings were great. Her older stepsister was nice enough, and almost as perfect as Valerie’s mother believed.
“It’s why I’m calling. She needs a wedding planner.”
Because why else would Mom call? Certainly not to wish Valerie luck on today’s career-defining event, which she’d probably forgotten about. The resentment swelled sluggishly, too weary to do more, and she tamped it down with her sneakered foot.
“Oh?” Ruth had made Valerie swear on a pile of vintage bridal magazines never to do an event for family, but she knew herself. If her mother wanted help, she would plan a thousand weddings. She opened her mouth to offer, but her mother kept speaking.
“Can you recommend someone?”
Valerie’s gut lurched, although it was ridiculous to be hurt that she wasn’t asked to do something she didn’t want to do in the first place. “I have a big event starting in a few hours, but I can get her some names later this week.”
Her mother sighed. “Val, you know your sister likes to plan ahead. Surely you can spare ten minutes from Aurora and get it to us today.”
“Ad Astra.” Her mother always got it wrong, and Erica wasn’t her sister. Mom got that wrong too.
“How long has it been since you’ve been doing that?”
“Two years.” Was she not going to pick up Valerie’s comment about the event?
“Right, it was the same time Justin moved to Halifax. It’s good to see you finally sticking with something. Remember when you quit that cooking class after two weeks?”
“I quit because I needed to work nights for a special event series.”
“Mmm. Get Erica those names, will you? She’s depending on you.”
When she disconnected, Valerie inhaled so deeply it oxygenated her toes.
Her mother’s interest in all things Erica and, to a lesser degree, Erica’s brother, Justin, and no things Valerie was nothing new.
When her parents remarried, Valerie became an afterthought on both sides.
She supposed it was understandable. Her mother’s new husband had two children of his own who lived with them full-time.
Valerie’s father was busy with his second wife, and when their twins were born, Valerie had made herself useful as a babysitter and collected compliments on what a good girl she was as if they were Pokémon.
Unable to help herself, she hid in the corner to compile a list of names for Erica, then hurried to place the Badgerton family photos on the tables.
Valerie lingered on one of the siblings in their twenties, a candid shot as they laughed on a dock.
They looked like they belonged together and she fought off a quick pulse of envy at their easy comfort.
She put the photo down as Ricky came over.
“We’ve got the tea bar, coffee bar, and whiskey bar here, there, and there.” Ricky pointed at various spots in the room and raised an eyebrow. “I still can’t believe you’re having a whiskey bar at a memorial.”
“Malcolm loved a good smoky single malt,” said Valerie. “As for the quartet…”
“Over in that corner.” Alexis jabbed a confident finger and Valerie stifled a sigh. It was supposed to be under the big window, but Alexis feeling validated would make things easier in the long run.
“Sure.”
“The guest register should be near the door,” said Alexis. “That’s what I’d do if I were you.”
The register for people to leave their memories had been hand-bound by an artisan who lived near the family cottage in the Mariposas.
After signing, guests would collect booklets detailing Malcolm’s founding of the Bread Company, a beloved local bakery before it became a multimillion-dollar enterprise.
Valerie had to put her foot down. “It’ll interfere with the flow if guests line up and block the entrance. ”
“Oh, look at that.” Alexis looked over Valerie’s shoulder, register forgotten, then pulled her hair up before letting it drop with a shake of her head. “Yummy. I hope he’s included in the event fee.”
“Don’t talk about people like…” Valerie’s reprimand died as she turned around. Standing in the doorway was a man backlit like a god from the heavens, so perfectly proportioned he could have stepped down from a pedestal at the Louvre.
Okay. Valerie didn’t entirely blame Alexis for her inappropriate reaction, although she hoped the poor guy hadn’t heard.
“Hi there,” called Alexis, giving a little wave. “And you are?”