by Laura Briggs
“Well, I think the second one is far more tasteful,” said Cynthia. “It’s very you, Nadia. Don’t you agree?”
“I like the flowers, but it doesn’t really fit with my theme,” said Nadia. “Like Tess was saying, if we book the church and go with the winter white theme like we planned—”
“I thought you were getting some big fancy hotel for the wedding,” interrupted Paula. “Lyle, didn’t you say you were going to get a real swanky place?”
“We got the restaurant, Ma. It’s swanky, right?” said Lyle. “But we can do something bigger than the church for the ceremony. It’s fine with me.” He shrugged his shoulders. “What are these flowers called?” he asked the floral assistant, pointing to the third centerpiece.
“Those are Canterbury bells,” said the assistant, rushing to prevent the arrangement from being touched by the groom. “Paired with lilies to create more clean lines and a feel of modern architecture, generous sprays of white roses and tulips, and for a little touch of bling, Margo has added some crystal snowflakes and a few delicate glass bells on sterling silver stems. It’s called ‘Bridal Blizzard.’”
“Now that’s more like it,” said Paula, joining him. “Look at this one, Nadia. This has some ‘wow’ factor, am I right? It’s what you need for the wedding.”
“Tell me you’re not thinking about that hideous hotel downtown,” Cynthia was saying to Nadia, in what she evidently believed was a quiet voice. “That modern white palace is simply tasteless—I’ve heard there are gilded toilet seats in the bathrooms.”
“What’s wrong with a little gold?” said Paula. “We need to ritz things up a bit for this ceremony, don’t we? Nadia, honey, look at this thing. Now, this is a beast of a centerpiece. It’ll really amaze the guests. Lyle, tell her this is the one you want.”
“It most certainly isn’t,” said Cynthia. “Nadia has more taste than that. She wants something elegant, but understated. Which… this thing… certainly isn’t.”
“That ‘thing’ happens to be one of Margo’s most expensive designs,” said the assistant frostily. “I would suggest you show some appreciation for its delicate details.”
“It’s better than those boring little frou-frou flowers in that middle bouquet,” snorted Paula.
“Are you referring to ‘All Dressed in White’?” The assistant’s jaw dropped.
This was going some very bad places, and it was only a matter of minutes before Accented Creations kicked them all to the curb—something Tessa could not have. In part because the winter wonderland bouquet showed strong potential as the perfect choice for Nadia’s wedding, but also—at least a little—because it would be a major blow to the Wedding Belles precisely at a time they didn’t need one.
“If that’s the bland one, I sure am.”
“I like the first one,” said Nadia helplessly. “The one Mom likes is nice too, but…”
“How about we find a compromise?” suggested Lyle. “You know, put all three together or something? Hold on.” His phone rang and he answered it. “Yeah. We’re out of mutton? You’re serious?” He made a face. “Hey, put Benny on the phone…”
Tessa drew aside the assistant. “Forgive my clients,” she said. “I assure you that they are very appreciative of the opportunity to view Margo’s work, and would be thrilled to have her design their centerpieces.”
“Then tell them to refrain from insulting the centerpieces, if you would,” snapped the assistant. “We do have other clients who are a little more appreciative of our efforts.”
“I know. I know. You are very exclusive, and we are very appreciative of this opportunity for a showcase,” repeated Tessa, who was ready to resort to groveling. “Please, just let me have a quick word with my clients.”
She plucked Nadia’s sleeve and drew her aside from the discussion of the second centerpiece. “We need to avoid too many personal comments on the designs,” she said quietly. “This particular floral business is a little sensitive when it comes to criticism, and, believe me, we should make the most of this chance.”
“I know,” said Nadia. “I’ve seen their work in some of the magazines I read. I really like their designs, I really do. It’s just that my—”
Cynthia had followed, and so did Paula, when her head jerked in their direction. “Nadia, you didn’t answer me about the hotel,” said Cynthia. “And what are you two whispering about? You’re not talking her into that giant centerpiece, I hope?” She glared at Tessa anxiously.
“I think it’s classy,” insisted Paula. “Are you saying Lyle doesn’t have taste?”
“Only for tzatziki,” muttered Cynthia.
Nadia gave her a look. “Mom,” she hissed. “Be nice.” She glanced from one mother to the next. “Both of you, we need to dial it back a little. I haven’t decided anything. The only important thing is for it to be something perfect for the theme, right? Please, just work with me, okay? I want to pick the right thing for me and Lyle’s big day… and it’s his decision and mine.” She glanced toward Lyle, who had picked a leaf off the Canterbury bells’ stem before the assistant could stop him.
Cynthia looked pleased. Paula looked injured. Tessa forced a smile to her lips.
“Let’s focus on the best elements from each design,” she said. “These are just examples to help us envision something extremely unique for Nadia and Lyle, so that’s the important part to take away from this showcase. Which, by the way, is also extremely exclusive, so it would behoove us to keep that in mind.” She couldn’t say this part enough, in her opinion. Would they pick up on the hint that it was essential to be nicer to the artist’s work?
“Of course, all of these creations will be displayed in Margo’s specially crafted ice vases, with tiny snowflakes etched into the sides,” said the assistant. “These same containers can be provided for votives as well, for a minimalist look. We have a relationship with an excellent ice sculptor, who does wonders with a saw.”
“Those are gorgeous,” said Nadia, looking at the pictures he provided of hollow ice blocks aglow with votive candles burning within. “And you can put flowers in them, too? Wow, I see so many possibilities for these.” She glanced eagerly at Tessa, who felt the tingle of excitement she always did for a client’s happiness.
“I think we could line the entrance with these,” said Tessa. “And maybe with some icicle lights to decorate the church, too.” She studied the photos, imagining the possibilities involving an ice sculptor for the reception’s decor. Could the winter white theme come to life in the private dining room of Lyle’s restaurant?
“Now, onto bouquets,” said the assistant, who opened a special display case. “Margo isn’t sure yet what direction your bride will follow, but she did have a concept she wanted to explore.”
The bouquet comprised white poinsettias with paperwhites and frosted rosemary sprigs, the stems wrapped in white satin ribbon, leaving half the paperwhites’ stems exposed. A definite start, although it lacked the blue and silver that Nadia had expressed an interest in showcasing. Tessa made a quick note about some possible adjustments, such as silver and ice blue colors for the ribbons, maybe.
“Isn’t it pretty?” said Nadia. “I don’t know how it will look with my dress… maybe with white roses instead?”
“Lots of roses,” pressed Paula. “And maybe a big silver bow tied around it. Wouldn’t it look nice with that big centerpiece?”
Cynthia closed her eyes with despair. “It’s supposed to be simple. Nadia, this wedding will have a little dignity, I hope?”
Nadia sighed. “Of course it will,” she said. “But what I want is—”
“You want something real nice,” intervened Paula. “Lyle likes things big and bold, so don’t pick some little bitty vase no one will ever notice.”
“Even the simplest of Margo’s creations attracts notice, I assure you,” said the floral assistant.
“Of course,” Tessa assured him.
Lyle was picking up some bits of fallen rosemary sprig when Tes
sa drew him aside from the group for a private word. “If you could help Nadia choose, it would really help,” she said. “I think she needs some support. There are too many opinions in the mix, and only yours and hers matter,” she told him. “Why don’t you give her a little feedback on some of those flowers?”
He shook his head. “I’m no good at this kind of stuff,” he said. “Ma knows more about flowers and cakes than I do. Besides, it’s Nadia’s big day. She should be the one to pick—isn’t it the bride’s thing? You know, flowers and pretty chocolates and all that jazz?”
“But it’s your opinion she really wants, not your mom’s,” pressed Tessa. “Just give her a little hint.” She was trying hard not to sound too pleading, but she wished Lyle would step up. Wrestle aside Paula and her insistent comments, she willed him, quietly—put Cynthia in the background for once, so Nadia feels she isn’t torn between the opinions of two very willful mothers.
He cleared his throat. “Um, Nadia,” he said. “That big one’s nice.” He gestured toward the fluffy ‘Bridal Blizzard.’ “But you pick what you like, okay? Those little flowers are nice, too. I like them too.”
Paula’s beaming smile withered, replaced now by Cynthia’s turn at a crisp little grin of triumph. “Tell the florist you like the middle one,” Cynthia said, giving Nadia’s arm a poke. “Go on.”
“I don’t know,” Nadia hesitated. “I still think the first one…”
“You heard Lyle, though,” said Paula. “And you like the big one, too, don’t you? Well?” she said, searching Nadia’s face anxiously. Nadia was looking for an escape, judging from her eyes, which were locked solidly on an unperturbed and unnoticing Lyle.
“Honey, which one?” said Nadia. “Tell me which one you really like best, so I feel like I’m making a choice both of us want.”
“You ladies work it out,” said Lyle. “I trust you, Nadia. And Ma’s got the best taste of anybody in my family, I promise. Hey, is there a coffee shop close by? I’m starved.” He posed these questions to the floral assistant, who looked ready for them to leave. Tessa was mentally crafting an email to smooth things over and keep Nadia and Lyle from being erased from the potential customers list.
“I think for now… the middle one is the best choice,” said Nadia with a sigh. “Can you ask the florist if she can email our wedding planners about costs and maybe some alterations?”
“Of course,” said the assistant, making a note on his phone. “I can arrange for you to see the cost breakdown of all three potential designs.”
“Thanks,” said Tessa, who had made a note that number two was the winner—for now. “I look forward to that. And I’m very grateful for this opportunity. So is… Mr. Groeder,” she added, at the very last. After all, it might not hurt to throw in the name of the annoying event planner who’d earned her this ‘in’ in the first place… or maybe it would be better to forget his part, judging from the assistant’s expression in reply.
“You’ll be hearing from us shortly,” he promised.
Maybe an approving word from Blake would smooth things over instead.
In her office, Tessa laid out the pages from Accented Creations’ portfolio, admiring the carved ice votive holders, the delicate sprays of paperwhites and the simple amaryllises: a small arrangement, but still outrageously priced compared to the last florist they hired for a wedding. The one Nadia—or Cynthia—had chosen would probably work well with the possible theme with a few minor adjustments. But it would be nice if the discussion was between the bride and groom and not the warring third parties.
“We’ll be lucky not to lose the florist after today,” she told Natalie, who was sitting in the office’s cushy rose-printed armchair, sketching some potential dress designs. “It was that bad.”
“Are you sure?” said Natalie.
“I saw the little gleam of fury in the assistant’s eye. I’m sure by now that Margo the floral artist is burning with resentment that her chief creation was referred to as ‘a bunch of sticks’ by our client’s mother.” Who had made it sound like the florist had gathered some refuse out of a backyard leaf pile.
“Just what we need—an enemy at the biggest florist’s in town,” said Natalie. “How are we going to fix that?”
“By finding a way to keep Cynthia and Paula apart,” said Tessa. “Maybe we can suggest a ‘one mother per outing’ limit. Lyle has got to be the one to state an opinion to Nadia, not these Godzilla parents who keep interfering in every decision.”
“How do you intend to stop them?” said Natalie. “If you ask me, if feels like this whole wedding is—”
“Don’t say it,” said Tessa warningly.
Natalie paused. “I was going to say ‘trouble,’” she answered.
“Nice try. I know what you were really thinking,” said Tessa, narrowing her eyes. Jinxed. Cursed. Those were not terms to utter here and now, when positive thinking was crucial to their survival.
“I think,” said Natalie, leaning across the desk as she slid off the armchair’s cushions, “that’s because you’re secretly thinking it with every new problem that crops up.”
“I’m not listening to you.” Loftily, Tessa stacked the portfolio pages from the florist and began making a sketch of her own, which included adding white tulips and narcissus to the centerpiece of ‘All Dressed in White’. Natalie flipped her own sketchbook closed.
“Let’s just hope that really expensive billboard you purchased brings us better luck in the future,” she said. “By the way, the bill for it is still unpaid, I noticed.”
“I’m going to pay for it,” said Tessa. “I just need a few more days.”
“Are you sure?” A little concern was in Natalie’s voice. “If there’s a problem, we can talk about it, Tess. Talk to me.”
“There’s no problem.” Tessa gave her a smile. “I promised I had it covered, and I do.”
“With your super-secret job?” Nat raised one eyebrow. “What is it, anyway?”
“Can’t tell. It’s my own private commission, and I promised that it would stay that way,” said Tessa.
“Who made you promise?” said Natalie. A thud came from down below, where Blake was back in place, fixing an issue with the parlor’s floor. “Not Blake?” she asked, in a way that suggested this was exactly what she was thinking. “Is that what your secretive little looks his way are about?” A sly smile flitted across the designer’s lips.
“I’m not saying any more,” said Tessa cryptically. “Let’s just leave it at that.” She sealed her lips and put on her best poker face to prevent any clues to this mystery from being revealed under Natalie’s shrewd gaze.
“Fine. Be that way,” said Natalie, giving up as she followed Tessa toward the staircase. They had started to descend to the foyer below when a familiar figure came through the front door. “Here comes trouble,” Natalie muttered before they had reached the threshold where Paula now waited for them impatiently. “Hi, Mrs. Kardopolis,” she said, greeting the groom’s mother as she passed her in the doorway.
“Hi—have you found the dress for Nadia yet?” Paula asked, momentarily waylaying Natalie.
“Not yet.” Natalie smiled as nicely as she could. “That is, she wants her gown to be custom designed. She picked out some special fabric from an online vendor, but she hasn’t settled on a pattern yet.”
“Well, good. I don’t want her to get talked into something too plain.” Paula was now hovering behind Tessa, who was willing her to go away. “I just wanted to give you the card for Lyle’s head caterer,” she said. “He forgot to give it to you, and he figured you need to talk with him about the menu.”
“Thanks,” said Tessa, tucking it into her bag. Paula noticed a folder that was open on the hall table with some initial notes Tessa had made about the centerpiece. She reached for a pen, crossed through ‘All Dressed in White’ and wrote ‘Blizzard’ below it.
“That’s what Lyle really wants,” she said in a hushed, conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t tell that to
Cynthia, though. Poor boy’s so modest, he never gets a word in edgewise whenever she’s around.”
“But I can’t—” began Tessa, with dismay.
“You make sure those flowers are real big and beautiful—I don’t want my son’s wedding to be some big snore because of somebody’s froofy opinions on what’s elegant,” said Paula. “Gotta go. I don’t want Cynthia getting suspicious that I talked to you on my own. This’ll be our little secret, all right?”
“We really shouldn’t—”
“See you later.” Paula disappeared. Five minutes later, as Tessa was still trying to find the words that ought to have been her reply, Mrs. Emerson appeared.
“I only have a moment, Ms. Miller,” she said. “I just wanted to be clear—it is the sophisticated second bouquet reserved for Nadia’s wedding, correct?”
“It is, but—”
“Perfect.” She sighed with relief. “I was afraid that dreadful Paula would try to talk Nadia out of it the moment my back was turned. Such cheap taste.” She shook her head. “Don’t tell Nadia I said that, however. I’ve promised her that I will be polite, and it wouldn’t do to have her know I’ve been interfering behind her back.”
“You are—”
“Just keep everything tasteful and delicate like Nadia herself, and it will be perfectly fine,” assured Cynthia. “Well, I must run. We’re all having lunch at some awful place that Paula thinks is the last word in Mediterranean cuisine.” A limp little smile of approval was bestowed on Tessa, who was then left alone in her office to ponder how impossible it was going to be to get anything accomplished with these two women in charge.
“No,” said Natalie, releasing a long groan of frustration. “Look at this! How did this happen?”
The open box before her, which was supposed to contain the fabric she’d ordered for Nadia’s dress, was filled instead with a bolt of fuzzy pink flannel printed with tiny sheep in pajamas. Ama whistled.
“Gorgeous,” she said. “I can’t wait to see the finished gown.”