14. Tessa
S he’d have preferred a Starbucks or even a meeting at one of their homes, but Tessa drove to The Wine Bar off 98 to meet Garrett Fischer later that day at his request. As she stepped inside, she hoped this wasn’t a mistake. It was not light, bright, or professional, but small, intimate, and smelled like oak barrels and lavender.
Whatever , she told herself. All that mattered was that she got this assignment and a fantastic reference she could put front and center on her new website.
The muted hum of conversation filled the room, punctuated by clinking glasses and the occasional burst of laughter rippling through a crowd that liked their lunch served with a flight of red or white. Although, in Destin, most of these people were on vacation and these weren’t business lunchers.
But she was.
She paused in the small foyer, looking past the bar to the tables, smoothing the lapels of a linen blazer she’d dug up from the bowels of her suitcases. Lacey—that little angel—had insisted it be ironed.
No surprise, the Summer House didn’t have an iron.
But Kate, always great in the clutch, had packed a steamer, and Lacey made the jacket look tailored and professional. In fact, Lacey had sent Tessa off with a kiss on the cheek like an encouraging momma wishing her good luck on the first day of school.
Well, it was her first solo gig as an event planner with no corporate office to back her up. This had to go perfectly. No distractions. No charm offensive. No flirtation.
Just professionalism.
Scanning the room, she spotted Garrett sitting at a corner high-top table, engrossed in his phone. When he looked up and saw her, his face broke into an easy smile, and he stood, gesturing her closer.
“Tessa,” he said warmly, extending a hand for a nice, professional shake. “Glad you could make it.”
“Hello, Mr. Fischer,” she replied, responding with her most firm grip. “Of course. I’m happy to get to work on this party.”
She slid onto the stool across from him, setting her tablet on the table alongside her handbag. She’d commit everything to memory and hope she didn’t need to use the tablet, but it helped to look professional.
Her eyes landed on the glass of rosé already waiting for her.
“I took the liberty,” Garrett said with a glimmer in gray-blue eyes. “You seem like a sparkling rosé kind of woman.”
Dang it—she was. But not today. Tessa gave him a polite smile. “Thank you, but I would have ordered a club soda.”
“Then we’ll just toast to the party, and I’ll order one,” he said, raising his glass of red wine, using his other hand to brush back some slightly too long hair, at least for a man his age. A cropped cut would be more attractive, but she wasn’t here to give him a makeover.
“To an amazing night,” he said.
Reluctantly, Tessa clinked her glass to his. “To a wonderful event,” she said, keeping her tone crisp. She set the glass down without taking a sip, then leaned back. “So, let’s talk about this party. Menu? Décor? Theme? Settings? Where do you want to start?”
“Maybe get to know you just a bit.”
Oh, no, we don’t .
“All you need to know is that I take my work seriously,” she replied, meeting his gaze. “Just because it’s a party doesn’t mean it’s all fun and games. I promise you an event that will go flawlessly and if it doesn’t?” She lifted a brow. “You won’t know that because I will fix it. You have my word.”
A slow smile pulled, making him look a little better. Not that he wasn’t a decent-looking guy. He reminded her of someone who might have been told by a woman in a bar that he looked like Brad Pitt and he’d been trying to live up to the compliment ever since.
He didn’t quite make it, but A for effort.
“Let’s start with your party goal, Mr. Fischer.”
“Just Garrett,” he corrected.
She nodded and made a mental note to call him…nothing. “I understand the event is to celebrate your birthday.”
The minute she said it, she realized her mistake. His eyes flashed with a nanosecond of surprise.
“I didn’t mention that to you,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. “How did you know?”
She wanted to lie. She wanted to make this easy on herself so much and say she’d done research on him and saw the date and had a hunch and…
Truth, Tessa. Always the truth.
She could hear the ethics professor whisper in her ear.
“I happened to be under your boardwalk while you were on the phone. I overheard you.”
For a second, he just stared at her, and that look could have gone either way—from get the heck out of here, you little eavesdropper , to wow, how clever you are .
“What were you doing under my boardwalk?”
“Protecting my skin from the sun,” she said, gesturing toward her face.
“Understandable with a complexion as beautiful as that,” he said.
She wasn’t sure if she was relieved—she hadn’t been fired for eavesdropping—or on guard for the big flirt.
“What all did you hear?” he asked.
“Very little except that you are reluctant to have this party, but need to impress at least one guest. And I am not reluctant to coordinate an event that will impress all your guests.”
His brows rose in surprise. “Far more than I expected from your average party planner.”
“I’m not average.”
“You can say that again,” he lobbed back.
Darn it! They were flirting.
“So, give me an idea of what you see for an ideal evening,” she said, deftly bringing the conversation back to where it belonged. “Then I’ll figure out how to make it happen.”
He studied her for a moment, and she braced herself for… Oh, honey, my ideal evening ends with you…
But he nodded. “I want something elegant, simple, and low-key. Why don’t you describe that to me?”
Finally. The interview section of the meeting.
“Okay,” she said, dragging out the word as she summoned her memories of a million Ritz-Carlton events. “I imagine a comfortable gathering hour, one small bar, mostly champagne and wine, maybe a signature cocktail.”
“I like it,” he muttered.
“Hand-passed hors d’oeuvres, of course,” she added.
“Such as?” he asked, inching closer.
“We’re on the beach,” she said. “Let’s keep a seafood theme. Maybe mini-lobster rolls on brioche buns or seared scallops on a crostini with a truffle oil drizzle.” She recalled the banter in the kitchen that morning. “One of my favorite local chefs says truffle oil is the essence of life.”
“Oh? Who’s that?”
Dang. He would ask that. “An up-and-coming young culinary talent named Jonah Lawson,” she said, getting a kick out of the moment and already looking forward to sharing it with Eli’s son.
He nodded. “And you can make it all outdoors at the beach house?”
“Absolutely. We can hold the entire event on your patio deck, which looked like it could easily handle five round tables for ten and space for mingling over cocktails.”
“It could.”
“But only with acrylic chairs,” she said, already picturing the setting. “White linen exclusively, and very understated floral centerpieces with a touch of coral and shells to bring in the sea.”
“Perfect,” he said, his eyes alight with interest on the topic, not her, giving her that boost of confidence she needed. “Keep going.”
She nodded. “An elegant dinner with an understated dessert and absolutely no cake or singing.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Thank you, God, she gets it.”
Encouraged, she continued. “Throw in some music?—”
“Live?”
She made a face. “Might be too much. An excellent soft jazz playlist on what I’m going to guess is a state-of-the-art sound system.”
He angled his head to acknowledge that, of course, there was one.
“And professional servers, candles everywhere, and picture-perfect weather,” she added.
“Oh, is that all?”
“Well, if you’re adventurous, you can end the night with fireworks on the beach, which would require a permit—and I know exactly how to get it.”
He stared at her, nothing but admiration in his eyes. Admiration for her work . That was…new. “Can you do all that?”
“All but…” She laughed. “Oh, why not? The answer is yes, including the weather.” She grinned. “It’s March in Florida. How much of a gamble is that?”
He lifted his wine glass. “No gamble and no risk in hiring you. Tessa Wylie, you have the job.”
She resisted the urge to give a victorious air punch, nodding once as if she’d fully expected that response. “Then I have one question.”
“Budget?” he guessed.
“Oh, please, no.” She flicked her finger, not remotely interested. “You don’t have a budget.”
He chuckled. “She knows me too well already. What is your question?”
“The name of your important guest.” She’d learned a few other tricks at the Ritz and intended to use them. “It’s possible to do a little research just so I know his—or her—very favorite dishes and drinks, and add that extra personal touch that will make this VIP feel very important indeed.”
“Wow. That’s…” He nodded, pure respect in his expression. “That’s next level.”
“That’s what Tessa Wylie Events is known for—next-level service.”
“Amazing,” he said. “The man’s name is Sai Gupta, and he is an executive vice president of the Bank of Boston. He has a winter home in Rosemary Beach and will be staying with me the night of the party. I need him to feel as comfortable as a king.”
She opened the tablet and carefully tapped his name into the tablet, not wanting to misspell it while he watched. “Indian? We should take that into consideration with the menu.”
“Yes and no. For one thing, he’s quite cosmopolitan and has probably eaten in more Michelin-starred restaurants than we have. Moreover, I don’t want him to feel singled out, nor would he want to be.”
She made a mental note to add a few vegetarian items to the kitchen list, just in case. But she didn’t say that—she hadn’t been hired to challenge the client.
“All right, then. I think I have everything and we’re on for March 31, correct? Isn’t that the date you texted?”
“Yes.” He took a slow sip of wine. “I can’t believe my good fortune in finding you. I had no idea how I’d do this alone.”
She searched his face, tempted to ask if there was a wife, a woman, a girlfriend…even an administrative assistant. Why was he alone? But if she asked, it would look like she cared, and she did not.
“We had good luck, great timing, and some help from above,” she said.
His brows rose. “We did? How so?”
She smiled. “My guardian angel.”
“Oh, I’m intrigued.”
She held up her hands. “No details. This isn’t about me, just your party.”
He reached across the small table and put a hand on hers, the touch warm. She fought her instinct to snap her hand out from under his because it would be rude. But she didn’t want to welcome him, either.
“You can relax, Tessa,” he said. “I’m sure you’re so used to men hitting on you that you have to put ten-foot walls around yourself. You’re safe with me.”
She felt her shoulders soften as she very slowly inched her hand away. “I’m only trying to make sure this event is a huge success, that you are a completely happy client, and that you give me a glowing reference for my website.”
“I have no doubt all of that will happen. Can I see it?” He jutted his chin toward her tablet. “The website?”
“Oh, of course.”
With true pride, she tapped the link and instantly the creamy linen background and rose-gold letters appeared. Thanks to Lacey’s magic, the clean lines of the Tessa Wylie Events website they’d made and uploaded together was contemporary and crisp, simple, but utterly gorgeous.
“And to think this didn’t exist yesterday,” he said.
Swallowing, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “No, it didn’t,” she said very slowly. “How did you…”
“You’re not the only one to do research on people, Tessa. Of course I looked you up. As far as I could tell, there is no Tessa Wylie Events, but you did work for the Ritz-Carlton.”
Yikes. How much did he know? Who did he know? Those smarmy execs ran in tight circles, and with her luck and timing? It would turn out he was a frat bro of her former client and boss.
“I did, and recently left,” she said, lifting her chin and refusing to cower from the truth. “I just started this business, and I happened to be?—”
“Stop.” He held up his hand. “I am a sucker for raw ambition, am inspired by entrepreneurs, and I always support new and independent businesses. You are exactly the right person for this job.”
She didn’t answer, searching his face, just a tiny bit lost in eyes the color of a stormy sky. Maybe he did look like Brad Pitt.
She tamped down the thought and smiled. “Thank you for trusting me to handle your party,” Tessa said, her voice firm.
“The trust is mutual,” he replied, standing when she did and offering his hand to shake. “I’ll expect regular status reports,” he added.
“Then you shall have them. Thank you again.”
As she walked out of the wine bar into the sunshine, Tessa smiled to herself. Not just because she got the business. And not just because he hadn’t flirted with her. But because he’d taken her one hundred percent seriously…and she’d delivered.
She glanced up to the sky and hoped her dad had been watching.
Later that night, Tessa sat at the dining room table at the house, leaning back and dictating while Lacey tapped her laptop and pulled up floral samples and tablecloth options.
Already invaluable to Tessa, Lacey was not just adept on the computer, she had a good eye and a sharp brain.
“You’re good at this job,” Tessa said, always free with compliments when she liked someone this much. “You have a real sense for it.”
“You think?” Lacey asked, a spark in her blue eyes. “Because, wow, this doesn’t feel like work. I had no idea there was a whole business simply picking out flowers and place settings. What’s more fun than planning a party using rich people’s money?”
Tessa laughed, leaning forward. “It’s fun until the napkins are missing, a server calls in sick, the shrimp isn’t fresh, and the wrong wine shows up. The biggest thing you have to plan for is for something to go wrong. Because, trust me, it will.”
“Maybe, but I don’t mind stress,” Lacey said. “In fact, I thrive on it. Every job I ever had was boring, nine-to-five, and the biggest challenge was changing the toner in the copy machine.” She tipped her head. “And forgetting to send out change orders and getting yelled at by my dad.”
Tessa made a face. “Yeah, that’s boring and not fun. This is anything but. And if you think this guy’s low-key birthday party is enjoyable to plan, you should see a black-tie wedding. With a crew, headsets, timing, staging, and, of course, a bridezilla. I don’t know why, but oh, I loved the big weddings.”
Actually, she did know why. Because Tessa was a “think on your feet” kind of girl, not a “think on the computer” type. But Lacey could be the secret weapon she needed to do both.
“You love weddings, but you never got married?”
Lacey’s question made her laugh. “Direct, aren’t you?”
“Curious,” she said. “I didn’t mean to…”
“No, it’s fine. No wedding pour moi . But I don’t see that as a flaw in my character. Or…maybe it is.” She trilled a laugh. “Honestly, I simply never met the right guy.”
“Did you try?”
Tessa thought about it, looking off as she remembered a few men over the years who seemed sincere in their feelings for her, who weren’t just trying to get physical.
But something was always wrong with those men. They were…not good enough.
“You want to know the truth? My father was amazing. He was smart, funny, and loved me more than any guy ever could. No man could possibly live up to him, so…” She shrugged. “No man did.”
Lacey sighed. “You’re lucky to have had a dad like that. Mine is… He’s not awful. But the way he left my mom with zero legit reason except he wasn’t ‘feeling it’ anymore? And now he’s ‘feeling it’ with another woman? Another designer?” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, not Father of the Year material.”
“Don’t let that keep you from finding the right man.” Tessa reached over and squeezed Lacey’s hand. “You’re too awesome to spend your life alone. Or changing copy toner for work.”
Lacey smiled. “Thanks. And honestly, I’m having way too much fun to call this work.”
Tessa eyed the younger woman, thinking about how frequently Vivien joked about Tessa stealing her daughter. And why wouldn’t she? Vivien had a winner with this girl and Tessa…
Her heart dropped, but, out of habit and time, she ignored the sensation. The parenting ship had sailed, and she hadn’t been on it.
When Lacey looked up, Tessa realized she was staring at her. “We make a good team,” Tessa said to cover the beat of an awkward moment.
Lacey grinned. “Yeah, we do.”
Out on the deck, a burst of laughter from Vivien, Kate, and Eli got their attention. The three of them were setting up new patio furniture and an outdoor dining table that had arrived that afternoon.
“So, who is this Peter guy coming over for dinner tomorrow night?” Lacey asked, forgetting her laptop screen to watch the exchange outside. “My mom has mentioned his name a few times.”
“Peter? Oh, you should look in those diaries.” Tessa leaned in on a playful whisper. “There will be plenty of mentions, I’m sure. Vivien had a mongo crush on him during all those summers here.”
“Mongo?” Lacey lifted a brow.
“Yes, mongo. I’m a child of the eighties and you get the idea.”
Smiling, Lacey glanced out at her mother again, then back to Tessa. “Is this Peter a good guy?”
“I remember he was nice, which tells you absolutely nothing, I know,” she acknowledged. “He and Eli were thick as thieves. They were boy besties, so Peter always came along like a family addition. Eli says he’s a cop now, a detective. Divorced. Why? He’s too old for you, you know.”
Lacey snorted. “I was thinking of my mom.”
Tessa chuckled, knowing that was exactly what Lacey was thinking. “Yeah? You think she’s ready?”
“I think she needs to accept that my dad has moved on.”
Tessa followed her gaze, regarding Vivien, who was such an attractive, easygoing, and talented woman. “She certainly deserves love.”
“Like no one in the world.”
Tessa got a little jealousy jolt, thinking how lucky Vivien was to have this loving daughter.
“Why don’t we help things along with old Peter the cop?” Tessa suggested.
Lacey looked over the laptop screen at Tessa. “How can we make that happen?”
“Hmm.” Tessa sat back, considering the challenge. “First of all, we’ll need to agree he meets our standards. So, let’s have a code word. If he’s up to par—and you are fully on board—then we’ll have a code word like…” She looked around, her gaze landing on the water. “Turquoise.”
“Turquoise?”
“Well, it can’t be a word we know we’ll use in casual conversation, but something we could slide in unnoticed.” Tessa grinned. “A casual, ‘My, the water looks turquoise,’ or ‘Lacey, did you order those turquoise tablecloths?’ kind of thing.”
She snorted a laugh. “Okay, turquoise it is, to agree he meets our standards. Then what?”
“Then we get them alone. Leave that to me.”
Propping her elbows on the table, Lacey rested her chin on her knuckles and stared at Tessa. “Where have you been all these years?” she asked. “We’ve needed you in this family.”
The compliment warmed her. “You know, I was just thinking that about you, kid. Consider me an auntie. I used to call your grandmother ‘Aunt Maggie,’ so it makes sense.”
Lacey’s eyes widened for a second.
“What?” Tessa asked. “Aunt Maggie is too much?”
“No, no, it’s just that…she doesn’t talk about the Wylies. Like, my mom and Uncle Eli cannot mention your family. Why do you think?”
“I don’t know. Eli and Kate are mulling that over, but I honestly don’t care. Past is past, you know. Let’s move on and have fun, that’s my motto.”
Lacey nodded. “I hope she gets over it because I want to be friends with you forever.”
“Aww.” Tessa angled her head. “Sweet.”
The smile was still on her face as they went back to work, returning to the party they were planning.
But as Lacey jotted notes, made suggestions, and found an absolute gem of a florist, a tendril of an idea tugged at Tessa’s heart. No, Lacey couldn’t be her daughter…but that didn’t stop her from wishing.