by Laura Briggs
Tessa’s hand dove into the box to claim one, taking a generous bite after peeling aside the foil. “Mmm, delicious,” she declared. “And I missed breakfast. These vanilla cream ones are great, too. The exact flavor of yogurt I should have eaten instead.” She licked a little of the cream filling from her lip. “Wait a minute,” she said, pausing mid-bite. “You only bake mini cupcakes like this when you’re depressed.” She looked at the remains of the cupcake in her hand suspiciously. “Why are these here?”
An uneasy expression dimmed Ama’s smile. “Well… I might sort of have this dilemma,” she said, her sneaker nudging at the table’s decorative foot—Ama’s desk was an old kitchen worktable, scuffed and scarred and far more appropriate than the usual bland office desk. “I might have sort of… kind of… agreed to go out with Tamir a second time.”
“What? The guy from the match site?” Tessa said. “But I thought you didn’t like him. I thought the first date was horrible.”
“It was. Truly. But—but he called looking for me. Twice. And when he finally reached my cell phone, he was just so polite I couldn’t say no,” she answered helplessly. “How do you tell somebody that your date with them was more boring than watching paint dry? Especially when they seemed like they were having a terrible time, too?”
“What about the motorcycle guy, though?” said Tessa.
Ama groaned. “Luke is perfect,” she said. “Tess, he’s funny, he’s interesting, he’s spontaneous…”
“He’s sooo handsome,” teased Tessa.
“That, too,” said Ama. “He’s this incredibly laid-back but passionate person. Everything I’ve been dreaming about when it comes to love—I really think he’s the kind of person who could make it come true. He’d run away with me to places nobody has ever heard of… he’d kiss me under the stars, not caring if we were alone or everybody on the street was watching.”
“Wow,” said Tessa. “That sounds… pretty amazing.”
“He definitely is,” Ama agreed. “Which makes it kind of hard to believe he would pick me to spend time with. I mean, a guy like that would have lots of dating choices, right? Glamorous, exciting girls would probably go out with him. So maybe I’m reading too much into just one afternoon of conversation and baked goods.”
“Yeah right,” Tessa replied, rolling her eyes. “He’s probably just spending time with you for the free pastries. Seriously though, Ama, don’t talk yourself out of giving this a chance at least. Not if you want to experience that kissing in the street moment for real,” she added with a knowing smile.
“Who’s making out on the street?” Natalie appeared in the doorway, her tablet computer hugged against her chest.
“Nobody,” said Ama. “Cupcake?”
“No, thanks. I’m the bearer of news right now,” said Natalie. “Do you want the bad news first, or the worse news?”
Her two partners exchanged glances. “Now what?” Tessa said.
“Stillmeadow chapel? Booked through the entire month of December,” said Natalie.
“Not Stillmeadow! I thought that would be impossible,” said Tessa in shock. “It’s a tiny little church with no reception hall!”
“Apparently, that was before they were featured in an article entitled ‘Fifty Places to See Outside City Limits’ in last month’s City Today,” said Natalie. “But it gets better. The sleigh and carriage rental company? Their horses are all under a veterinarian’s care for some sort of equestrian virus—no harness time until spring, doctor’s orders.”
Tessa groaned. “You’re kidding,” she said. Gone was the rustic woodland chapel, the sleigh-style carriage in the hopefully snowy landscape pulled by a matching team of horses.
“Sorry. Wish I were,” said Natalie. “But good news is, my cousin knows a guy who offers carriage rides in the park, whom he thinks has a sled stashed in his barn that he used to bring out to the park in winter.”
“Work on it,” said Tessa. “I definitely want to offer Nadia good news when we see her today.” She noticed the computer in Natalie’s grip. “Are you working on the dress design?” she asked.
“What do you think?” Natalie turned the screen around to face Tessa. “First thought—fabulous? Elegant?”
“Elsa from Frozen?” said Tessa.
Natalie released an exasperated sigh and lowered the sketch.
“No, wait—let me see it again,” said Tessa quickly. “Maybe it will look different to me this time—”
“Forget it,” said Natalie. “I’m still not envisioning something unique enough for Nadia’s wedding, clearly. Back to the drawing board.” She passed Blake in the hallway. “Free cupcakes,” she informed him.
“I’ll never say no to that,” he answered. He paused before the open box on Ama’s desk. “Okay if I take two?” he asked.
“Take them all,” answered Ama gloomily. “What do I care?” Chin propped on both fists, she sighed and gazed at her wall board of creative bakery designs. Blake studied her quizzically as he lifted two mini cupcakes with one hand.
“Everything okay?” He glanced from Ama to Tessa as he asked.
“Fine,” said Tessa. “Just a few minor issues with the wedding. You know, nothing that can’t be fixed.” She crossed her fingers behind her back.
“Not with the flowers, right?”
“Relax. I’m not going to ask you to be Stefan’s assistant again,” said Tessa. “Like you’d take orders from somebody you demoted to assistant-to-the-assistant in their own office, anyway.” She reminded him of this with chagrin and a smile.
“Maybe I got a little carried away by the spirit of things,” he replied, as he polished off cupcake number one. “Oh, by the way—about that transom in your closet—”
“Let me guess. You found hinges for it that only cost a hundred dollars apiece,” said Tessa.
“No, that’s not what I was going to say,” answered Blake. “I wanted to offer to buy it.”
“Buy it?” she echoed.
“Yeah. See, there’s this door in need of replacing upstairs in the house I’m working on—it’s way too rotten to save, which we didn’t realize until we tried to adjust its frame, and discovered there was some damage from an old leak, which means we’ll have to pull out part of the frame as well. So I was thinking—”
“This is the house you’re working on right now?” said Tessa. “The historic district home?” She picked at a frosting crumb, which was melting to a sugary dot on Ama’s table. “I thought you were almost done with it.”
“So did I. But the door’s gotta be replaced. A real shame, because we thought the whole house would be ready for Christmas, and now we’ll have to tear out part of that bedroom’s wall. The whole hall will be cordoned off for two weeks minimum.” He pulled out his cell phone. “You should see the pictures from downstairs, though. It looks pristine, and Mac did a great job decorating it.”
She had. Tessa looked at photos of the flawless powder blue paint in the dining room, the perfect arrangement of an antique love seat to one side, and an old sea captain’s portrait framed on the wall perpendicular to the room’s wide windows. Blake showed off the parlor with pride, where he and Mac had apparently struggled to move an incredibly heavy ornate sofa with green velvet cushions to face the doorway instead of the fireplace, for better aesthetic appeal. He showed the ‘before’ pictures of the house intermixed with them—patchy, dull paint, faded-out drapes in unappealing fabrics, the big velvet sofa looking like the victim of a gang of vicious wolfhounds with its worn fabric and leaky stuffing.
“This Mac is a miracle worker,” said Ama, looking at the photos. “Which decorating firm does he work for?”
Blake didn’t have to answer, because Mac appeared in the flesh now. “Hello, hello,” she said, tapping on the doorframe. “I was pretty sure that was your baritone I recognized from downstairs, Blake, so I knew this must be the right place.”
“Hey, Mac,” said Blake. “Tess, Ama, this is Mac—Tessa, you’ve met before, obviously. Mac, the
se are the clients I told you about, who own the building.”
“Oh, right. The wedding planners,” said Mac. “Blake’s told me a lot about you. And a lot about this building, which I can see is definitely impressive, even if it’s a little rough.”
A little rough? Tessa bristled, even though it was perfectly true. “I like to think of it as characterful, actually.” She tossed her head slightly. Ama was giving her a strange look, but she ignored it.
“A little character goes a long way, right?” said Mac, laughing. “Those stairs—those are totally incongruous with the rest of the building. When did they put those in, the thirties maybe?” She was talking to Blake now.
“I’m guessing sometime in the forties,” he said. “I found an old notice about the place being converted into some kind of artist’s studio after the original store it housed had closed, so I figure somebody got artsy with the redecorating, or else bought the stairs off an old mansion after the original ones started to get creaky.”
“But that molding above the upstairs windows is still original, isn’t it?”
“It is in these rooms, but not in the hall. I had to replace it above the big window.”
“A perfect match, though,” said Mac, sounding impressed. “Blake is such a genius when it comes to wood,” she informed them. “Isn’t it incredible what he comes up with when there’s a little problem on the job? Did he tell you about the plan to fix the upstairs bedroom?”
“He did,” said Tessa. “Sounds like the two of you will be busy for several more weeks.” No doubt Mac would appreciate his strong muscles when it came to moving heavy furniture. She noted the decorator had asked the contractor for help instead of the big, burly crewmembers who had been toting around the scaffolding the day she was there.
“Lucky me, having to work with this guy two more weeks, right?” joked Mac. “But that brings me to the reason why I tracked you down, Blake. I wanted you to see the photos of the downstairs, now that we finished decorating it last night.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way downtown, though,” said Blake. “You could have texted them and saved yourself the trouble.”
“I know, but I wanted to see your reaction firsthand,” said Mac, as she pulled up the images on her phone.
“Wow,” said Blake. “Tessa, Ama, look at these.”
Fir trees dripping with authentic Victorian ornaments—paper cones, lace, and ribbons, with fake LED candles lit on all the branches. Shiny Christmas balls, tiny wax and hand-painted celluloid figures hanging from branches; big garlands of seasonal greenery decking the halls from the banister to the dining room’s big white mantel, with nuts heaped artistically in silver bowls, and a trinity of pomegranates, oranges, and apples piled on antique serving platters.
Yep, it definitely couldn’t be any more perfect. But at this moment, Tessa felt that perfection might be a tiny bit overrated. There should be at least one or two flaws in every so-called ‘perfect’ project, right? A pomegranate or two that wouldn’t stay in the fruit pyramid… maybe a sagging battery-operated candle or two on those tree branches, held in place by wonky clips? How did she get them all to stand so infuriatingly upright?
“I’m having the outdoor garlands delivered today, so I have to run,” said Mac. “I have an interview with the new bed and breakfast on Fifth. Wish me luck.” She tucked her cell phone in her bag.
“Break a leg,” said Blake.
Mac paused before Tessa. “I really do think your building has potential,” she said. “If you want some help while restoring it, please give me a call. I gave you my card, didn’t I?”
“You did,” said Tessa. “It’s in a safe place.” At the bottom of the drawer where Tessa tended to pile paid bills and junk mail, actually.
“Call me up sometime. I can give you an estimate. I have connections to some of the best restoration fabric warehouses and wall decor people in the business. That big room down the hall, the master bedroom with the dressing room? I could find a sample of its original wallpaper and completely cover that modern blue paint.”
She was talking about Tessa’s office, maligning the ‘Romantic Blue’ she had personally selected. “Thanks, but we’re really not in the market for a decorator,” said Tessa.
“Still… you never know when you might change your mind,” said Mac with a smile. She was on her way out now, almost bumping into Natalie in the hallway. Who, Tessa realized, had been standing there for several minutes, watching them all.
“So that’s the famous Mac,” Natalie said to Blake. “How long have you two worked together again?”
“Six or seven jobs. I’ve lost count,” said Blake. He stole another cupcake from the box. “Mmm, these are really good,” he said to Ama. “Let’s see… first job with Mac was the house on Dillard Street… then the old city meeting house…”
“She seems like fun,” said Natalie.
“She is,” said Blake. “She takes her work seriously, but not herself seriously, if you know what I mean.” He tossed the foil wrapper in the trash can.
“You should think about Mac’s offer,” he said to Tessa. “She could do wonders for that little room downstairs I’ve been working on. You wouldn’t believe it afterwards; it would blow your mind when you see it come together. I could get you a pretty sweet discount,” he hinted. “The kind only friends get.”
“Thanks, but… I think we’ll just stick to the original plan for the room for now,” said Tessa. “You know, bargain paint and a set of drapes. Not that I don’t appreciate the offer. From her or from you,” she added hastily. “It’s just she might be a little too… what’s the word…?”
“Pricey?” suggested Ama.
“I was thinking ‘perfectionist,’” said Tessa. “For our tastes, anyway.”
“Look, she’s not a stickler for the historic thing when a building’s not becoming a showcase,” said Blake. “She’ll show you modern paint colors, modern upholstery fabrics that have a limited print and weave availability—basically, anything you want in a style she can help harmonize with your space.”
She sounded brilliant. Tessa pictured Mac transforming this building into a magazine showcase, hovering close by Blake’s shoulder as they studied catalogs of hardware, molding, and the ornate decorative touches that Tessa had routinely nixed for pocketbook reasons… Blake’s muscles steeling as he lifted that heavy bookshelf away from the wall for the decorator…
“I have my heart set on the paint color already,” said Tessa. “We’re good.”
“Even with a steep discount?” said Blake.
“Even with a discount. Strangely enough, I am unmoved,” said Tessa. Her smile was becoming artificial, because being sincere about her feelings on this subject would endanger her working relationship with Blake. Maybe it was because the decorator had insulted her personal taste, she decided. Had Mac, an interior designer, no appreciation for a color as pretty as ‘Romantic Blue’—for personal touches that made a room unique, like a chintz chair with striped pillows? So what if it was free-spirited, totally out of character with the building’s origins, and maybe a little kooky with regards to the modern wall mural in Natalie’s office…?
“Come on, Tessa,” he coaxed. “You know you want to see that room at its best, don’t you?”
“Oops, there’s my phone,” she said as it rang. “Nadia. Can’t miss this call, since today’s the day for the big floral unveiling and the cake tasting.” She answered it as she escaped from Ama’s office.
Accented Creations had submitted the final floral design for Nadia and Lyle’s wedding. White tulips, paperwhites, glittered rosemary sprigs, and miniature powder blue bells in frosty, embossed ice vases formed the table bouquets. In between the flowers, votive vases made of ice with tiny LED candles flickering inside, with a shallow silver basin beneath each.
The biggest arrangement was destined for the altar, then the center of the wedding party’s table, with smaller ones for either end, and for the guest tables in the dining room. T
he icy branch floral arrangement would adorn the cake and dessert table, with frosted evergreen boughs for the windows and doorways of both the restaurant’s dining room and the site of the ceremony.
As for Nadia’s bouquet, it was perfect: white tulips, white bud roses, and paperwhites, wrapped in white satin and trimmed with a pale blue and silver ribbon at the head of the stems. Nadia’s bridesmaids had miniature versions of the same, only without the tulips. The florist was ‘over the moon with the results,’ as Stefan Groeder’s false assistant was informed via an email to his false assistant.
So was Nadia, when she saw the pictures that afternoon. “It’s so beautiful,” she breathed. “I cannot wait. Does Natalie have a sketch for my dress, by the way?” she asked. “I was really hoping it would be finished soon. I’m kind of eager to actually see the fabric become my gown.”
The replacement fabric, of course. But that brought to mind other replacements that Tessa had not quite found a good moment to discuss. “She’s very close,” said Tessa reassuringly. “By the way, there’s been a little issue with the church, but I think we have something very promising in mind to take its place.”
At first, Nadia was disappointed by the loss of Stillmeadow, but when she saw the photos of the replacement Tessa had chosen, it left her more breathless than the bouquet. From a list of small scenic churches in a fifty-mile radius, Tessa had located a newly built chapel constructed from insulated, reinforced glass, which was nestled in a wooded glen on the outskirts of the city. The closest thing to an ice castle in this part of the world, Ama had laughed—and with a perfect view of snowy oaks and evergreens, if only the weather would favor them with a surprise pre-Christmas snow in time for the wedding.
“Look at it, Lyle,” said the bride, nudging his shoulder as he busily texted someone on his phone. “Imagine us inside on our wedding day. There’s the altar, and the pews are gorgeous blond wood. Don’t you love it?”