Seven
When Valerie was younger, her favorite rides were roller coasters.
She loved the way the wind felt like a living thing in her face and snatched her breath away when she opened her mouth.
Her stomach would swoop down before catching up with the rest of her body as the cars sped around loops, careened down hills, and rattled over curves.
But then she grew up and found that emotional roller coasters were way less fun than physical ones, although they generated the same need to scream.
Take today. The high of Roger’s money landing in her impoverished bank account was immediately followed by the low of seeing it fly out to pay off her bank loan.
The rock bottom of clearing out the Ad Astra office had alternated with the flat relief of doing it by herself.
Alexis might still be on the payroll but the job had been depressing enough without her commentary.
Then there was Ad Astra itself. With her departure looming, it was time to make a choice about its future.
Too bad every time she tried to think about it, it was like being sent around a dizzying loop-de-loop.
Shut down or keep going? Keep going or shut down?
The words cycled on repeat like the world’s most stressful earworm but did nothing to help her reach a conclusion.
She hated the thought of giving up her dream, but the empty calendar provided such a harsh reality check that she worried not even Roger’s social, and possibly financial, capital could reverse.
Once home, she dashed off a distress text to Ruth, who had sent her an encouraging note after the Badgerton debacle.
Can I have my old job back?
The phone rang a moment later. “Did you forget Rule Two?”
Rule 1 was The customer is not always right, but you’d better make them feel like they are. Rule 2 was No sudden decisions.
Valerie stared into the baroque-style mirror over her couch. How much did she really look like Yvette? “Rule Two should be scalable.”
Ruth’s sigh gusted through the line. “I have exactly three minutes to spare because I’m currently knee-deep in a ballroom of oversized origami goldfish, but I’m going to tell you a story.”
“What’s the origami for?”
“Bella Tanners thought regular balloons were clichéd, so I had them made out of huge sheets of origami paper. Those were boring, so we settled on goldfish that took a week to fold. Forget the fish. When I started doing weddings, I made mistakes. Everyone does. For the most part, no one can tell because you’re one of the few people with the run sheet. ”
“That’s not what happened to me,” Valerie said morosely.
“I was going to say, if you’re unlucky, something happens that you can’t control and it’s noticeable. On my third wedding, the groom didn’t show.”
“Ouch. That’s not your fault, though.”
“It was. He’d told me the day before he wasn’t coming, but I didn’t take him seriously. If I had, the two could have talked. I might have prevented a huge scandal.”
“You couldn’t have done anything,” Valerie argued. “Not like me. I knew Alexis couldn’t handle things by herself. I should have planned backup in case I was hit by a car or fell down a sewer.”
“No, Valerie.” Another woman might have made her voice soft and sympathetic but Ruth spoke firmly.
“You’re focusing on the wrong thing. You should ask yourself why you let it get to the point of needing a work-around instead of dealing with your employee when you noticed the issue.
If I remember correctly, you didn’t want to hire her in the first place. ”
“I didn’t,” Valerie admitted.
“That’s what you need to consider before you make any rash choices. Why you prioritized her feelings over your own and Ad Astra’s success.”
Ruth was right. This was her fault, although not in the way she’d thought, but in a worse way that exposed a fundamental weakness in herself. Brilliant.
“I don’t know if I should shut the company down.”
“Given what that Badgerton-Willis woman has been saying, I can see why. Eight clients have sent me the rather scathing review she’s provided of your services.”
“Only eight.”
“Well, it was nine, but two of them were married so I counted them as a single unit. However, that was only one out of the many successful jobs you’ve done, and there is a very reasonable third option of simply taking a hiatus and relaunching when people’s memories have faded.”
That was possible, but… “That seems like simply postponing the inevitable. What if people never forget?”
“People always forget. Why do you think sixty percent of my wedding clients are repeat customers? Three minutes are up. Think about it and remember Rule Two.” Ruth hung up to return to her paper goldfish.
Valerie poured some rosé, then stared at her laptop and wondered if an Ad Astra message had come through in the twenty minutes since she’d last checked.
She should look again, just in case. No.
She jumped up and shoved the thought aside with a violent gesture that splashed wine on her feet.
She would empty the closet for the subletter instead.
Action was always a good way to stop herself from ruminating and might provide the clarity she needed.
She was poking a pile of clothes with her wine-sodden toe and debating whether she should pour another glass when a text came from her mother.
Valerie had sent her a note in the morning about going to the Mariposas, feeling as if someone should know where she was in case Nico failed in bodyguard duty.
Her mother’s subsequent response was twenty photos of almost identical white gowns.
She called a moment later. “Val, did you get my text?”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Erica’s wedding is ages away, but she’s so excited! We were online dress shopping today. I need to be there for her since her mother can’t be depended on for that kind of thing.”
“I saw.” Valerie waited for questions about her cottage trip but it was futile.
Erica came first and Justin second, and had since her mother’s remarriage, as if her mother wanted to forget Valerie along with the memories of her failed first relationship.
It was strange how Valerie kept hoping that would change.
Although she knew better, she couldn’t help but ask, “Did you see that I’m going away?”
“I did. What about Aurora?”
Valerie stared at the wall. “I had a setback.”
“So, you’re giving up as usual.” Her mother sighed. “I was hoping this would be the thing you finally saw through.”
“Yes,” said Valerie, through the sudden ache. What hurt was that this time she hadn’t quit because she didn’t have time or something new came along. She’d tried. “You were right. It was a wild idea.”
“Well, you were never the steady one. Remember when you decided you were going to be an opera singer?”
“I was five.”
“No, older than that. You give up too easily, Valerie, always looking for something new, like when you broke up with that nice Jake. Anyway, tell me which dress you prefer.”
At least her mother was asking her opinion about something, so Valerie roused herself to flip through the images. “The fifth one is nice.”
“I like number ten. Of course, she’ll look lovely in anything. White is her color, like me.”
“Did she talk to any of the planners I suggested?”
“Oh. I completely forgot. Erica’s going with someone a friend recommended.”
Valerie didn’t bother to comment. She should have known.
“Have a good time away,” her mother said. “Did you tell your father?”
“I did.” Her stepmother had replied to the group text she’d sent her father’s family with a thumbs-up emoji and have fun! before the conversation moved on to the twins’ own summer plans.
“It’ll be nice for you. Erica is too busy preparing for her wedding to take time off. You need to commit to things like she does, Val. I’ll see you when you get back.”
She was in the middle of pouring a generous second glass when a text came from Alexis. We’re all at Lamplight and I just remembered you live close. Come by. I have an idea.
Valerie put the phone down. She didn’t need a pity invite where she was an afterthought to the party, and she didn’t want to hear Alexis’s idea.
Plus she had packing to do before she left in two days.
Nico had sent over his list, and it was as thorough and well organized as she’d anticipated.
He’d probably have a heart attack if he saw the chaos erupting from her closet.
The majority of Valerie’s planning ability had been shunted to her work, with little left over for her personal life.
She kicked the pile of clothes, then guzzled the wine as she pulled on her shoes and grabbed her purse.
Ten minutes later, she pushed open the door to Lamplight and relaxed.
There was something comforting about being with people whose only goal was to have a good time and eat their body weight in loaded feta waffle fries.
Valerie went out to the patio and found Alexis and the others gathered around a table filled with glasses.
“Hey,” she said, giving a general wave. She felt better out of the apartment and surrounded by people she knew.
“Oh, you came.” Alexis looked around but no one shifted to make room, too busy with their conversations to notice Valerie’s arrival. “You’ll have to find a chair somewhere.”
Luckily, the server came by and soon Valerie was ensconced with her friends, listening to the usual complaints about work, and love lives, and money.
Alexis turned to her. “I can’t believe people are still being so mean about you screwing up the Badgerton event,” she said eagerly. “I’m glad you’re not letting it get to you. I wouldn’t have the guts to leave my house.”
“Thanks.” Good old Alexis, always there to commiserate in a way that seemed more gloating than sympathetic.
“I mean, I don’t blame people for overreacting,” Alexis continued. “I would too.”
Blair squeezed lime into her vodka soda. “I saw it on Good Morning T.O. Poor you, what a mess. It’s going to be impossible for your reputation to recover from that. What are you going to do?”