Wedding Planner Mysteries Box Set

Chapter 3-2

When Mrs. Bonnie Rockfort grilled me for details about the Berlin-Grafton wedding, I had to cite client privilege. “You wouldn’t want me telling people your daughter’s unique plans for her centerpieces, would you?” That shut her up, but the Rockforts kept a sharp eye on my list of vendors, trying to analyze which one Natalie would choose so they could best her. That was why I kept her wedding details under lock and key.

Thirty minutes later, I heard Lorea finishing up with Sylvia and decided to check on her. I stepped into the back room. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Actually, yes.” Sylvia pivoted toward Lorea, who was bent over a piece of fabric with a mouthful of pins. “It’s short notice, but I need another bridesmaid dress. My best friend from high school divorced her husband.” Sylvia lowered her voice. “Jeff was my boyfriend clear through senior year. I don’t think he ever got over me.” She sighed. “Anyway, she’s seen the error of her ways and we’re besties again—just like the old days. She must be in my wedding.” Sylvia leaned closer to Lorea. “That won’t be a problem, right?”

The inside of my cheek stung from biting it. I couldn’t make eye contact with Lorea or I might say something I’d regret—or worse, my contained laugh might come out as a snort. Lorea’s skin practically buzzed with anger, but she pulled the pins from her mouth and gave Sylvia a stiff smile. “Have her call and give me her measurements, and I’ll get started on it.”

“I just knew you’d come through.” Sylvia patted the top of Lorea’s head. “Such a sweet little thing.”

It was fortunate Sylvia was so oblivious to everyone around her—otherwise she couldn’t have missed the smolder in Lorea’s eyes or the way Lorea flinched when Sylvia patted her head.

“I’m betting the magazine will want to do a feature on my dress,” Sylvia said. “I’ll have my people call their people and get back with you.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Sylvia,” I gushed.

“Ta, ta, darlings.” Sylvia waved, and her twelve-carat diamond ring just missed Lorea’s forehead. I covered a laugh as Lorea yanked another pin from the pincushion around her wrist. After the door closed and I checked to be sure Sylvia was on her way, I turned to Lorea. “So, how did it go?”

Lorea stabbed her pincushion with a needle. “When I envisioned my future as a dressmaker, Sylvia was never in those dreams.”

“We’ll get through it,” I said. “When I lived in San Francisco, there were a few bridezillas I worked with at Bellissima.” I thought about the difference of owning my business. The clients I dealt with on a monthly basis when I lived in California were mostly pleasant and there was always someone to assist me—here it was just Lorea and me. Not to mention that in addition to our current work load of wedding planning, the two of us had decided to venture into the wedding dress side of the business.

Lorea pulled out a dress and grumbled, “If I have to pick out this hem one more time . . .”

I drummed my nails on the counter. “Just think how much Sylvia is paying for each additional alteration.”

Lorea scowled. She adjusted the silver chain holding the Basque cross, each arm of the cross curved, angling into the next in a sweeping pattern. Her frown lines reverted to a smirk. “Not to mention the price of her wedding dress.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Yes, there is that to consider.”

“But now I have to deal with fitting another one of her lovely friends.” Lorea kicked her shoes off, kneeling on the floor to cut fabric. She wore five-inch wedge sandals so clients wouldn’t tower over her, but she always took them off when she was sewing.

“I’m surprised we’ve made it this far. I thought she would ’ve called it off by now,” I said.

Lorea shook her head. “I might win that bet. It shouldn’t be hard to believe, but I can’t fathom getting engaged to try to make Brock jealous.”

We’d discussed our secret theory a few times, but I still wasn’t sure if Sylvia was out to get Brock back or if she just wanted to win the competition for Most Glorious Wedding.

“She doesn’t have a chance with Brock. He and Natalie are a perfect match,” Lorea said. “I wish we didn’t have to deal with Sylvia at all.”

“At least we have Natalie, thanks to you.”

Lorea’s shoulders relaxed when I mentioned the other wedding we were planning, the one for her best friend. “I might quit if it weren’t for Natalie.” She sighed. “But Sylvia’s dress really is perfect. I’m so glad she liked it.”

“It probably helped that you told her it was one of a kind and the most expensive dress coming into the store.”

Lorea nodded, and then she looked at me, her eyes scrunching in the corners as if deciding to share a secret.

“Whatever you want to say, just say it.” I tilted my head in her direction.

Lorea laughed. “I keep thinking about the dress with the organza frills. I know Natalie has something else picked out, but I can just see her in it.” She pulled the measuring tape through her fingers. “Would it be totally inappropriate to ask her to come down and try it on?”

My gaze traveled over Lorea’s head to the gown in question hanging for display. The bodice was fitted, embellished with thousands of sparkling sequins outlining the embroidered roses that reached to the hipline. Then the ruffles started, and I loved every one of them. The lightweight organza kissed the glittering tulle skirt with nearly thirty layers of frills covering the wide bell skirt of the princess dress. Natalie would look exquisite in it.

I sighed. “I couldn’t live with myself if we didn’t let her at least see it.”

Lorea grinned, and I noticed her squeezing the pincushion. “I’ll call and tell her it’s my duty as her bridesmaid to introduce her to this dress.” She dashed off to make the call, her reading glasses swinging haphazardly from their chain. A few minutes later, she returned. “Natalie will be here in an hour. She told me she was just looking at bridal magazines, wondering if she really was in love with the dress she was thinking of buying. She sounded so happy I called.”

“That’s great. Can you imagine if we could sell that dress, too? We’d have enough money to pay cash for the next shipment.”

Lorea nodded, and I knew she was mentally calculating how far the gown’s price tag of eleven thousand dollars would take us.

Moving to my desk, I clicked through a few spreadsheets and brought up my to-do list. I enjoyed planning weddings, and working on Natalie’s had been more satisfying than most. But my feelings differed for my other major client. To say that Sylvia’s wedding plans had been exhausting would be an understatement. She had pushed the limits on every aspect of her dream wedding. One thing was certain, though—the Rockfort-Porter wedding would be absolutely gorgeous. I scrolled through my contact list and pulled up Frankie Lawson’s number.

“Hello, you’ve reached Francesca Lawson, wedding coordinator for the Sun Valley Lodge. We’d love to make your day unforgettable, so please leave a message, and I’ll get back with you soon.”

I waited for the beep. “Hi, Frankie. This is Adri. I wondered if you’d talked to the chef yet about the possibility of making a second wedding cake shaped out of the fourteen different cheeses Sylvia selected. I’ll have some color samples ready for you later today so the crackers don’t clash with the linen.”

Biting the inside of my cheek again, I ended the call. I took my job seriously, but a wedding for someone like Miss Nostril only happens once a decade. I relaxed and let the smile creep across my face as I pictured Frankie laughing when she heard the message. Sometimes I had to remind myself to enjoy the small moments.

“Before you ask, I’m planning to finish Sylvia’s centerpieces by tonight,” Lorea said.

“Are you sure? I can help you.”

“All I need to do is stab another magic wand in each of those hideous things. Don’t worry.”

I shook my head. Lorea hated themed weddings, and the Rockfort-Porter event was all about the magic of true love—celebrity style. Even though the clients were hard to please, I enjoyed the change of pace that went into the details of the wedding plans for a unique celebration.

Taking advantage of the unplanned meeting with Natalie, I arranged the three swatches of fabric we were contemplating for the accent color in the centerpieces. The major decisions had all been made, but Natalie had struggled with selecting the perfect shade of ivory to complete the burgundy and forest green that would highlight the wedding decor.

“A wedding I went to last year had strands of paper roses hanging from the ceiling,” Lorea said as she fitted her dress mannequin with a swath of cream-colored silk. She looked over at me. “Fishing line makes them look as if they are floating in the air. It might be the perfect thing for Natalie’s reception.”

An image of blood-spattered emerald roses filled my mind. Delicate silk roses threaded with silver string. I swallowed hard.

“Adri, are you okay?” Lorea hurried over to my desk. “You look pale.”

“Those were— I made hundreds of them.” I looked at my hands. My purple glitter polish sparkled in the overhead light, another reminder of her. “Stayed up until three in the morning watching movies and sewing with Briette so we could finish.”

Lorea sucked in a breath. “Oh, I had no idea. Let me get you some water.”

I grasped Lorea’s hand. “I’m sorry—it shouldn’t matter. Natalie would love it.”

“No way, Adri.” She shook her head and her dark hair brushed the nape of her neck. “There are lots of other ideas. In fact, I thought of one for the bridal shower invitations. Is there any way you could use a button on the card?” She released my hand and gave me a water bottle.

I knew Lorea was changing the subject, but I was happy to push those memories back and focus on another aspect of the business that I loved—the bridal shower. I took a sip of the water Lorea offered me and forced a smile. “Can we use buttons on the card?” I winked. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Lorea laughed and held up her pincushion. “Good. I think it’ll give them some personality.”

“And everyone will know that Natalie’s best friend is throwing the party before they even open the invitation.”

“Hey, girls.” Natalie walked through the door. It had only been forty minutes since Lorea phoned her. She carried an oversized purse that I knew contained several bridal magazines and notebooks. Hefting the purse, she waved one of the magazines at me. “Can you believe this farm girl is getting nervous about what those movie stars think?”

“Whatever. You look like a movie star. Just worry about what Brock thinks,” I said.

“She’s right. You’re gorgeous.” Lorea motioned for Natalie to follow her to the back of the shop. Brock had admitted he was initially drawn to Natalie for her tall and slender model-type build and clear blue eyes, but he fell in love with her kind and generous nature.

Natalie swept back a loose curl of soft, brown hair, tucking it behind her ear. “My stomach is doing backflips, I’m so excited to see this dress.”

“Right this way,” Lorea said. She led Natalie into the makeshift gown-fitting area we had set up in the back. The dress hung a few feet off the ground, trailing with layer upon layer of gorgeous frills.

Natalie gasped and covered her mouth. I noted how her eyes sparkled as she stared at the dress. She dropped her purse and approached the gown with tentative steps. “Lorea, this is beautiful. Help me try it on.”

Lorea and I laughed. I waited as Lorea helped Natalie into the dress and tugged on the invisible zipper sewn artfully into the snug bodice. I straightened the mirror and caught Natalie’s smile as she looked at herself.

The dress was a size six and a bit on the short side for the bride’s long legs. Lorea could let out the hem and take in the bodice, but otherwise, it appeared to have been created for Natalie.

“Oh, I love it.” She turned slowly, craning her neck to see each side of the gown.

“I can do some alterations,” Lorea said. “And then it’ll be perfect for you.”

“I know Brock will love it,” Natalie responded.

“It does fit right in with the choices you two have made for the wedding.” I grabbed a clipboard and jotted down a few notes about how the materials in this dress would flow with the backdrop of the reception.

“How much is it?” Natalie glanced at me and then at Lorea, who paused a moment before answering.

“We were going to mark it for eleven thousand, but you can have it for nine.” The price hung in the air between us, and I remembered the discussions we’d had with Brock and his bride-to-be. He continually assured her that he wanted to pay for the wedding, and she kept reminding him that it was the bride’s responsibility. She selected simple, elegant designs to keep prices low and Brock didn’t mind, as long as he could foot the bill—and he had won that argument.

“I don’t want you to give me a discount.” Natalie bit her lip. “I don’t know. It’s just so expensive.”

“You’re right. It is,” Lorea said. “But you have to wear something you love on your wedding day. I know you don’t want Brock to help you pay for things—and I know it’s because people have accused you of being a gold digger, but honey, sometimes you just have to swallow your pride.”

Natalie shook her head. “Good thing you’re my best friend, or I might think you were just trying to make a sale.”

I suppressed a laugh as Lorea’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m trying to make a sale and help my friend have the most beautiful wedding possible.” She smoothed down one of the frills and grinned at Natalie. “Everyone knows the dress is the focal point.”

“She’s right. If you’re going to splurge, do it on the dress.” I made myself a note to remind Brock that Natalie was hopelessly in love with him.

Lorea began measuring, pinning, and writing down what needed to be done to the dress as Natalie smiled into the mirror. I showed her the fabric swatches, and she selected a chiffon lace, just as I had thought she would.

“I’ll have some samples ready for you in a week.” I checked that off my list.

“Are you bringing a date to my wedding, Adri?” Natalie asked with a teasing lilt to her voice.

Lorea answered before I could. “Yes, and he’s taking her to the ice show this week.”

I glared at Lorea, but Natalie’s face lit up. “To see Sasha Cohen? Brock’s taking me—we’re going to that fancy dinner at the lodge before the show, too. So, who is he?”

My brows relaxed as Natalie’s contagious joy swept over me. “His name is Dallas Reynolds. I met him at the Roosevelt Grille. He’s very nice, but I don’t usually bring dates to the weddings I plan.”

“Well, see if you can make an exception this time, won’t you?” Natalie asked. “Someone as talented as you should be planning her own wedding.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Thanks, Natalie, but I think your sentiments should be directed toward Lorea, don’t you?” With a wink in her direction, I hurried back to my computer to order the fabric Natalie had selected. I could hear Lorea grumbling about “too many romantics.” Natalie was right—someday I hoped to plan my own wedding. I just needed to find the right groom first.