Tess in Boots

by Courtney Rice Gager

  I glanced at her to make sure she was still listening. She was.

  “And in return,” I said, “I’ll waive your event hosting fee.”

  “Get out!” She jumped and clapped her hands. “I’m in. How can I help?”

  “Well…” I shifted my weight from one foot to another. Here it came. Once I set this wheel into motion, I knew it couldn’t be stopped. But it had to be done. “I’ve been keeping a little secret. About this upcoming wedding.”

  Natalie leaned forward.

  “The bride and groom have been low profile. I don’t even know who they are. They sent a personal assistant down to coordinate the details. They seem to have a ton of money. But that’s all I know. That’s all any of us know.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. Which leads me to believe they’re—”

  “Famous! They’re famous, aren’t they?”

  “We don’t know for sure, but it seems that way,” I said.

  “Oh! Oh I can’t believe it!” She fanned herself with her hand. “I’m getting married at a celebrity hot spot! Can I come to the wedding and sneak a peek? Please? Pretty please? I’ll pretend to be a waitress. I’ll stay out of the way. I promise I won’t make a scene.”

  It was all going according to plan so far. But here came the crucial part. I smiled at her. Come on, Natalie. Don’t let me down.

  “Actually, yes. But I want you to do more than sneak a peek. I want you to cover the story.”

  Natalie looked as if she might melt into the floor from excitement. “Me?”

  Perfect. It would be smooth sailing from here. “Uh-huh. They’re going to be here Thursday night for a rehearsal. I was thinking you could come and pose as my assistant. Snap a couple of photos, make notes of the details. Then write up a story and send it out that same night to some of the bigger papers, entertainment websites, wherever you want. The key thing I need you to do is to mention Carl’s Creek by name, so we can get some good exposure. If this turns out anything like I expect it to, the story is going to take off. And who knows? Your career might take off with it.”

  I took a deep cathartic breath. There. It was done. On the one hand, it felt awful betraying Viv like this. She asked us to keep a low profile, and we agreed to do so. This was in direct violation of our agreement.

  But on the other hand, where was Viv now? She left me in the ditch to handle everything on my own. I knew full well leaking this story had the potential to create a complete media circus on the day of the wedding. And truth be told, I hoped it would. We could always call the cops to clear things out if it got too crazy. The point was, with the right media exposure, we’d be booked up for at least a year’s worth of weddings by next week. There’d be no need to sell the vineyard. Jake and Sara could stay and make things work.

  And for Natalie, breaking this type of story could launch her journalism career and get her away from writing obituaries in The Middle of Nowhere, USA. I was doing her a favor. I was taking a chance on her, in the same way Jim took a chance on me all those years ago when I first started at Stevenson.

  Natalie wrung her hands. “Oh, wow. Oh. I… I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll help me?”

  “Of course! Of course I’ll help you! Thank you so much for this. This could be huge for me.”

  “That’s fantastic. And you’re welcome. I hope it is.”

  “What time should I come Thursday?”

  “I’m meeting the couple right here at five, and the rehearsal starts at six,” I said.

  “Perfect. I’ll be here at four-thirty, so I can catch the big entrance.” She gave another excited clap of her hands.

  I smiled. “It’s a plan.”

  “And you’ll book my wedding?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah.” I reached for my clipboard. “What’s the date again?”

  “May nineteenth,” she said.

  “May nineteenth,” I echoed, scribbling down the date. “Sounds like a lovely day for a wedding.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “This says, Congratulations, Ron.” I furrowed my brow at Lulu Millwood’s grandson, who was holding a big white cake box in one hand and tapping on his phone with the other.

  “Yeah? So?”

  I sighed. “This is the wrong cake. It’s supposed to be a wedding cake. And it’s not supposed to be here until tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” He nodded without looking up from his phone. “Tomorrow. My bad. I’m at the wrong place. Happens all the time.”

  Fantastic.

  “It’s okay.” I forced myself to stay calm. “You’ll be back with our cake tomorrow, then?”

  He looked confused for a second, but then his face registered a hint of recognition. “Oh, yeah. Tomorrow. Sure.”

  “Good. Because it’s important. Really, really important.”

  “Really important. Right.”

  “Right. Well… see you tomorrow.”

  I reached out to close the lid on the box and waited for him to leave. But he didn’t leave. He stood there for a while, looking up at me with a silly grin on his face.

  “Yes?” I asked. “Do you have a question?”

  He kicked at the ground with his toe. “Uh, well, my friends and I, we’re having a party next weekend. We all pooled our money together. And we heard you were, well, we were wondering if you could…”

  I gasped and lifted a hand to silence him. Up until now, I kept a good sense of humor about the absurd rumors flying around about me. But this wedding had me on edge, and I was about ready to snap.

  “Let me stop you right there. Young man, I am a wedding planner. And a lady. And that’s no way to talk to a lady.” My voice grew louder with every word. “Furthermore, I don’t think your grandmother would like it one bit if she heard about this little party you’re having with your friends. Where are your friends’ parents?”

  The boy took a step back and stammered.

  “I thought so. Look, kid. Me and your grandmother, we’re like this.” I crossed my fingers and held them out in front of my face. “So you run along, and I want to see you back here tomorrow morning, minding your manners and carrying the right cake. You do that, and Grandma won’t have to hear a word about this. But if the cake is a minute late, even one minute, so help me I will call your grandmother and tell her everything you just said to me. I have her on speed dial. Don’t test me. Do you understand?”

  He nodded. “Cake. Tomorrow. Yes.”

  I shook my head and watched as he turned and walked away in a daze.

  “And don’t forget to eat your vegetables!” I shouted after him.

  It was Thursday afternoon, a little before one o’clock on the day of the rehearsal, and things were not going smoothly. Right before the wrong cake arrived, I sent away a delivery of a few dozen hot-pink roses.

  “These are pink,” I said to the woman handing me paperwork to sign.

  “I know. Aren’t they just beautiful?”

  “They’re supposed to be peach.”

  “Peach, you say?” She looked half-worried, half-puzzled.

  “Yes. Peach.”

  She bit her lower lip and checked her paperwork again. “Oh, dear.”

  I rubbed my temples in an attempt to quell an impending headache.

  “We can fix this,” she said. “Yes, we can fix this. I think we can fix this.”

  I bit the insides of my cheeks as I helped her load the hot pink roses back in the truck, and then watched as she sped away.

  So here we were, twenty-four hours before the wedding, with the wrong flowers and the wrong cake. This wasn’t looking good at all.

  Maybe it was naïve to think I could pull the rest of the wedding off on my own, to have so much riding on every last detail being perfect. If things kept going like this, I’d have an angry couple on my hands, along with a huge public relations crisis. I could see the headlines now: Up A Creek: Carl’s Creek Celebrity Wedding A Disaster.

  I should have run away with Viv.

  Bett
er yet, I should never have come here at all. The stress of the wedding caved in on me from all sides, and I longed for the predictability of my old life. I longed to be back at Stevenson, behind my desk, where even though things were crazy and high-pressure sometimes, they still made sense to me. I longed to take back what I said to Logan that night, our last night together; to go back to being blindly and foolishly in love with him. Maybe if I hadn’t acted so crazy, things would have fizzled out with this other woman before I ever knew about it. Or maybe they would never have even started to begin with.

  I longed to have never seen the beauty of this place. To have never grown attached to it, to have never felt like it had become a part of me somehow. And I longed to have never met Thatcher. I wished I could erase him from my memory, scrub him away like a doodle drawn with a dry-erase marker. Because as much as I tried not to think about him, I couldn’t get rid of the dull ache that settled in my heart after he left.

  Why did he get involved with me in the first place if he was just planning to walk away like it was no big deal? I’d asked myself that question at least a hundred times since I last saw him. But it didn’t matter. He was gone. I was stupid to let myself fall for him. Like I was stupid to think I could handle this wedding on my own.

  I was grateful for the one thing going right today, one saving grace in the midst of all the chaos: the rehearsal dinner setup. DJ wasn’t kidding. Her parents did know how to throw together the most adorable picnic I’d ever seen.

  They spent the last hour setting up a row of picnic tables, banquet-style in between the grapevines. The tables were adorned with charming gingham linens and simple arrangements of white daisies. Behind the barn, they set up their own catering tent. A delicious wood-smoked smell came from that direction.

  At least something was going as planned. I stood at the edge of the grapevines, admiring the beauty of the tables and taking deep breaths to calm myself down.

  Jake appeared by my side and bumped his hip into mine. “You ready to get your dance on?”

  “Are you insane?” I didn’t mean to, but I snapped at him. So much for being calm.

  “Snippy, snippy. You need to relax, Tessy. Everything’s done. Except for my moves. I’m still working on them. What do you think of this one?” He bobbed and weaved to music only he could hear.

  I shook my head. “First of all, I do not need to relax. Second, you will not be dancing. And you will definitely not be doing that… I don’t even know what to call it. What is that?”

  “It’s my groove, Tessy.” He spun around in a circle. “And I’m gonna get it on.”

  “Oh boy.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

  “When did you become such a stiff?” he asked. “You used to love dancing.”

  My phone rang.

  Great. What now? The band calling to cancel, perhaps?

  “I have to take this. I’ll see you later. And no dancing. We’re supposed to be professionals. All right? Promise?”

  “I can’t hear you, Tessy. This is my jam.”

  I left Jake dancing alone in the field as I answered the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Tess?” There was a man’s voice on the other end of the line. A familiar voice, but I couldn’t quite place it.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Jim.”

  Jim? Jim Pierce? From Stevenson? Yes, I realized. It had to be.

  “Jim! How are you?”

  “I’m good. How are you? You find anything yet?”

  I hesitated. How to answer this question? I didn’t want to disappoint him; didn’t want to admit that instead of looking for a real job, I was currently playing the role of air traffic controller to a whirlwind of cake and flower deliveries. And oh yeah, I wasn’t getting paid.

  “I did,” I chirped. “Just a temporary gig.”

  “Temporary? Oh, good. So you’re available then?”

  Available? For what?

  “Uh-huh,” I said, unsure of how to respond.

  “Great. Listen, I’ve taken a new position, managing a financial firm, right outside of the city. And you’ll never guess what I need.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “A marketing director,” he said.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not. So, will you come work for me?”

  Wow. Minutes ago I wished for my old job back, and here it was being handed to me out of nowhere. I would be a fool not to take it.

  And yet, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment, too. Because taking a job with Jim meant this little escape of mine was over. It couldn’t last forever, I knew that all along.

  But still. Deep down, perhaps there was some part of me that liked not knowing what tomorrow would bring. Some whimsical part of me that thought maybe, just maybe, I’d stay here and make a life for myself. Or go somewhere new, even. Maybe it wasn’t so much the place that mattered, I realized, it was the possibilities. Maybe that’s what I’d fallen in love with here.

  But our time on the vineyard was coming to an end. Even if the plan to save Carl’s Creek worked, and Jake and Sara got to stay, it didn’t make sense for me to stay here. I had a career to get back to. It was time to move on. And this dream job offer from Jim landed in my lap. Of course I would take it. It was a sure thing.

  “I would love to, Jim. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “The pleasure’s mine. When can you start?”

  I looked around the field. There was still so much to do. I’ll be there in an hour, I wanted to say. But I had to see this through. For Jake.

  “I need a little time to wrap things up here,” I said.

  “Do you think you could swing two weeks?”

  “Yes. I can do that.”

  “Great. I’ll shoot you an email tonight with details and an official offer.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Jim.”

  “It’ll be nice to have you back, Tess.”

  “It’ll be nice to be back.”

  I hung up the phone and stared at it for a while. Would it be nice to be back? I hoped so, but I wasn’t sure.

  I sighed. There was no time to worry about it. I needed to head up to the guest cottage and clear out my stuff. Starting tonight, the cottage would be used as a bridal suite. I spent all day yesterday cleaning the place like a madwoman. Sara ran into town for me and picked up fancy hand soaps, a bottle of champagne, fresh fruit, and a flower arrangement to make it nice for our guests.

  I tucked my clipboard under my arm and began the long walk up to the cottage. Back to the place where it all began, where I first got the idea to turn the vineyard into a wedding venue. It was hard to believe it was just a few weeks since then. In so many ways, it felt like a year. Mainly because of how much things changed; how much I changed.

  When I climbed about halfway up the hill, I turned back to get a bird’s-eye view of the grapevines. It was funny how a shift in perspective could make some things easier to see. I thought back to what Thatcher said on the day they pruned the vines.

  A lot of those branches died a long time ago, but the grapevines still hold on. They don’t want to let go of what’s comfortable.

  For me, the past few weeks were as he’d described: a time to let go. And it had been a little devastating, hadn’t it? Losing my job, losing Logan, losing Thatcher.

  Yet here I was, still standing. And stronger in some ways.

  All I needed now was a little bit of sun.

  Oh, how I hoped it would come soon.

  CHAPTER 28

  I was wearing the boots. I went back and forth on the decision a dozen times. On the one hand, they looked so authentic, and they added the perfect touch of Southern charm to my dress. I purchased the dress for a summer charity concert I planned to attend with Logan, and I threw it in my suitcase on a whim before leaving my apartment. It was made of bright poppy-colored silk, with a cinched waist and a skirt that fell just above my knees. A month ago, I never would have dreamed of wearing anything but heels with this dress. But
now, the boots made me look… right, like I belonged here on the vineyard.

  On the other hand, they also reminded me of Thatcher.

  But in the end, Southern charm won. Besides, as much as it hurt, I wanted to be reminded of Thatcher. I missed him.

  I was thankful for how busy the afternoon was because it helped to keep my mind off things. After I cleared my luggage from the cottage, Sara hung around to keep me company while I got dressed in the main house.

  She poked her head into the bathroom. I frowned at my reflection in the mirror, trying to decide what to do with my hair.

  “That dress is fantastic,” she said, “and the boots are perfect. You want me to do your hair and makeup?”

  I checked the time. I had a little over an hour before I needed to be down at the barn. “Sure.” I waved her into the bathroom.

  The sound of an engine rumbled through the open window. I peeked out to see where it was coming from. My eyes widened and my pulse quickened at the sight of Thatcher’s truck. It veered off the driveway and onto the grass, puttering its way behind the house. There were several tarps draped over the truck bed, which appeared to be full of boxes and other bulky items.

  “Sara?” I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry. “Is that… is Thatcher back?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Because his truck’s outside.”

  I held my breath as she leaned over and looked out the window.

  “Oh,” she said, “that’s not Thatcher.”

  My heart seemed to shrink a little. I was so sure it was him.

  “Who is it, then?” I tried to get another look, but the truck was already out of sight.

  She yanked the blinds down and twisted them shut. “A family friend of ours owns an autobody shop. He always has a few extra cars on hand. Thatcher was staying at a nearby hotel and borrowed a truck while he was in town.”

  I furrowed my brow. “So, it’s your friend driving the truck?”