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“I guess you’re right.” She put a hand to her chest where her heart was beating rapidly.
Chelsea looked at her with concern. “You seem way more bent out of shape than seems appropriate for a coffee date. What’s going on?”
“Oh, Chelsea, it’s all such a mess,” she wailed and promptly shoved the last of the lemon dream into her mouth. Once she’d taken what comfort she could from the food, she told her friend everything, from her first meeting Dexter at a party, to their wedding, the marriage, the betrayal, to him coming back into her life. She ended with the kiss.
“Scumbag!” was Chelsea’s succinct response to the story. For which Karen was enormously grateful. “And now he thinks he can waltz into your business and try to get back in your pants? I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Getting out and dating new men is a fantastic idea. Really. Get your mind off your ex.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I am right. And you know what else you need?”
She thought of some of the other well-meaning advice Dee had dispensed from time to time. “Please don’t say sex toys.”
Chelsea grinned at her. “I am assuming that you have a good selection, as every woman should. But no, I was referring to a girls’ night out.”
“Oh, I would love that.” A night off from worries and stress with some of her female friends would be sooo good.
“Okay.” And as she saw Karen’s mouth open Chelsea stopped her, saying, “And, Ms. Planner Extraordinaire, this is one that I’ll be planning. You come and have a good time. That’s all. Got it?”
Impulsively, she hugged her. “Got it. Thanks.”
“WE’RE SEAHORSES,” the voice on the phone explained.
She really didn’t charge enough for this job. “Seahorses? Maybe you need an aquarium, not a wedding planner,” Karen said as gently as she could.
The young woman’s laugh was sudden and loud in her ear. “No, I mean me and Steve, the guy I’m marrying, we belong to the Seahorses Scuba Diving club.”
“Oh, okay, I get you.”
“You must have thought I was nuts,” the woman said, with another boisterous laugh.
Karen joined in, hahaha, without admitting she’d assumed the woman was certifiable. Or that she wouldn’t be the first crazy person who’d hoped If You Can Dream It was a company designed to make any hallucination come true.
“Before I waste both of our time in a meeting, I want to ask you if you could arrange an undersea wedding.”
“An undersea wedding, like The Little Mermaid?”
“I guess, sort of. See, we dive the wrecks off the Jersey shore and we were thinking it would be so cool to get married underwater.”
“Oh, wouldn’t it.” Karen rubbed her temple. Surely you couldn’t get a headache this fast. “Hard to cut the cake, though.”
More laughter greeted her. “I can see we’re going to get along fine. No, what I’m thinking is if we could rent a glass-bottomed boat for the guests and then me and Steve could get married underneath. We wouldn’t have thought of it, but we met a JP who also dives. He could perform the ceremony from the boat, and we’d be wired for sound. Instead of saying, ‘I do,’ we’d give the thumbs up sign. Isn’t that totally cool?”
“Oh, totally.”
“We want to get married next August. We need some ideas. We really want our wedding to stand out as something different.”
No problem there.
“So, will you do it?”
“Arrange a wedding on a glass-bottomed boat so two scuba divers can give a thumbs-up?” She shook her head. “Sure, why not?”
“Great, when can we come in to see you?”
She made an appointment for the scuba sweethearts, and then almost broke down and wept when her next appointment informed her that she wanted a completely traditional wedding. Church, flowers, white gown, bridesmaids, hotel reception, everything simple and staid and normal. How refreshing.
As she was finishing up the proposal, Sophie Vanderhooven called sounding excited. “I heard Melissa Stanhope got the most divine cake for her wedding this Saturday.”
“Yes, it’s lovely. Laurel, our cake maker has a real gift.”
“But Cinderella’s coach? That is such an amazing idea.” She now recalled that it was the Stanhopes who had recommended her services to the Vanderhoovens.
“Even better, the cake is made with pumpkin.”
“I know! She told me. Can I have something like that for my wedding?”
“Of course you can.” Did this woman not have any original ideas of her own? “Not the same cake, of course, because Laurel creates a unique design for every event, but you can give her guidelines.”
A sigh wafted over the phone. “Mother wants a traditional tiered cake complete with little plastic bride and groom on the top, but I want something more romantic, more me.”
“I’m sure we can find something that will make you and your mother both happy,” she said diplomatically.
“I hope so. Anyhow, I’ll see you Saturday.”
“Saturday?”
“At Melissa’s wedding.”
“Oh, of course. Though I’m not a guest. If I do my job right, you shouldn’t even notice me.”
Sophie laughed in her elegant way. “No one could miss you.”
Before she could ask what that was supposed to mean, in a polite way, the woman was gone.
Puzzled, she got up and walked to the front reception area. “Dee?”
Her assistant glanced up from matching the place cards to the Stanhopes’ master guest list. “Mmm-hmm?”
“Do I stand out in a crowd?”
Dee blinked at her. “You have Amy Adams’s face and hair and Marilyn Monroe’s body, and, I don’t know, a sort of commanding way about you. It’s what makes you a great wedding planner. Everyone scurries when you tell them to. So yes. Of course you’re noticeable.”
“Huh. Thought I was being so discreet.” She wandered back toward her office.
“Hey, speaking of discreet, when are you meeting that CPA?”
“We’re having coffee Sunday afternoon.”
“Brilliant. I can’t wait to hear about it on Monday.”
“What’s the weather forecast for tomorrow?”
Dee didn’t have to look, she’d already checked. “Low fifties, no precipitation expected.”
“Wonderful. A perfect day for a late fall wedding.”
And so it was, she realized when she rose the next morning. The day was dry, the sun was shining and there was no snow on the ground. After showering and doing her hair in a restrained bun, she slipped into a navy pencil skirt and white blouse, then pushed her feet into her high-heeled navy pumps. Discreet and professional, that’s how she thought a wedding planner should look.
Amy Adams indeed. Dee must be angling for a raise.
4 (#ucb064ee0-dac0-5837-aba9-6a9e4082d1b3)
“WE CAN’T FIND the best man,” Mr. Stanhope hissed into Karen’s ear.
So far, everything for the Stanhope wedding had been going smoother than a chocolate milkshake. This was her first lump. “Has he answered his cell phone?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’ll get right on it. In the meantime, Mr. Stanhope, remember, you hired me to take care of problems. I’ll stall the bridal party.” Her calm manner and soothing smile had their desired effect. The father of the bride’s high color receded and he nodded, standing straighter in his tux.
“Glad to have you onboard.”
“We may need to call in a stand-in, but I promise, you’ll have a best man for your daughter’s wedding.
“Keep an eye on things out front,” she whispered to Dee, then, without any visible haste, she walked from the front of the church and out into the parking lot. Guests were still arriving but the bridal party was scheduled to pull up in fifteen minutes.
She slipped into her car and reached for the Stanhope wedding binder. In it was all the information she could possibly need, including home and cell numbers for the missing man.
She called both and was invited twice to leave a message. Which she did. Not good.
She then called the driver of the limousine bringing the bridal party to the church and asked him to take a detour. “I need five extra minutes.”
“No problem.”
Having stalled the bride, she left her car and slipped into the church through a side entrance. She knew her way around most of the churches and synagogues of the city. She made her way to the anteroom where the groom and his party would be waiting.
The groom looked a little pale, but steady. He glanced up when she entered. “I’m going to kill Brian. He promised he’d be here.”
“Does he have issues with punctuality?”
“Not usually.”
Her cell phone rang. “Ah.” Sure enough, it was the best man. “Flat tire,” he panted. “I went to change it, but that is my spare.”
“Where are you?”
He named a location that was a good five minutes away. “Are you dressed to go?”
“Yep.”
“All right. I’ll come and get you.”
She turned to the groom. “Appoint a stand-in just in case.”
“But the ring?”
She slipped a plain gold band from her right hand. “I always carry a spare.” Then she smiled at him. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
She sprinted to her car and made her way out of the parking lot, now quieting as most of the guests had arrived. She was in time to see Sophie Vanderhooven step out of a Lincoln, Dexter behind her. She supposed she should have known Sophie would bring a stand-in for her fiancé who was still working in Italy.
Since she felt it would be rude to drive by a paying client, she drew to a stop and rolled down her window. The autumn day was crisp and cold and tonight the temperature was forecast to dip.
“You look lovely, Sophie,” she said. The blue woolen suit was both stylish and classic, rather like Sophie herself.
“Thanks. I can’t wait to see Melissa get married.”
“Do you drive away before all the ceremonies?” Dex asked her.
Now that he’d addressed her directly, she had to look at him and nothing in the world could stop the warm blush that heated her cheeks as their little tussle in her office roared back to her.
She forced a smile, though no one could have called it cool. “Of course not. Just a little wedding business to take care of. I’ll see you later.” And with a wave of her hand she drove past.
DEX SQUINTED as he turned to watch Karen drive away. He’d made her blush. Good. It was a start.
“What’s going on, Dex?”
He turned back to his date. “What do you mean?”
Sophie scanned his face. “I’m not sure, but you were looking at Karen the way—well, the way Andrew looks at me. I guess that’s why I recognized the expression.”
“She’s a very attractive woman.”
“And she was blushing.” She grabbed his hand and began walking toward the church. “And there’s this sort of energy field when you two are together. I noticed it when we first met her. I wasn’t born yesterday, Dex. Something’s up with you two. What is it?”
The slim hand in his was friendly, but firm. He suspected he wouldn’t get away with anything but the truth. “You’re pretty smart for a socialite.”
“I know. And I smell a delicious secret. Come on, spill. I won’t tell anyone.”
“I’ve never yet met a woman who didn’t break that promise.”
The patrician nose wrinkled. “Can I tell Andrew if it’s good?”
