Diary of an Engaged Wedding Planner (Tales Behind the Veils Book 3)

by Howe, Violet

  “Block out an hour. Do you know the address?”

  I dutifully wrote it down as she said it, but I already knew the address. Everyone in the industry knew the address. Reynalda’s office was located inside the Ritz Carlton. I wasn’t sure how exactly she’d scored that coup since she wasn’t a Ritz employee, but it certainly helped her get the majority of their wedding clientele.

  I walked to Laura’s office to update her. “I set up a meeting with Reynalda for nine in the morning.”

  “Into the den of vipers they sent her,” Lillian called out from her office adjacent to Laura’s. I leaned around the door frame and peeked in.

  “I’m sorry, were you talking to me?”

  Lillian removed her glasses from their perch on her nose and sat back in her chair, crossing her hands in her lap and grinning quite the sinister smile.

  “You have no idea what you’re in for. I told Laura she’d lost her mind sending you over to that twit.”

  Lillian never spoke favorably of Reynalda.

  “Calm down over there!” Laura yelled.

  “Agggh. She’s a media whore, nothing more. Couldn’t plan her way through a covered bridge in broad daylight. She chews up people and spits them out. Has no use for them if they don’t serve her purposes, and uses them up if they do. If the purpose of this folly is for you to learn, I’m not sure the lessons you get there will be of much benefit to you or us.”

  “Now, now. Let’s not put notions in Tyler’s head,” Laura answered from her own desk. “Let her meet Reynalda and come to her own conclusions. Her work style notwithstanding, she does book complex events, and I think Tyler could learn a lot with the right frame of mind.”

  “Ha. She surrounds herself with the best vendors money can buy. Those events have nothing to do with her, and everything to do with the people holding her up.”

  “That in itself is a lesson. Let’s just see what Tyler does with this, shall we?”

  Lillian rolled her eyes and winked at me as Laura spoke, then she returned her glasses to their perch and waved me out.

  I don’t know what they’ve gotten me into, but I can’t see why I wouldn’t enjoy working on a wedding that’s not counting how many servings of cake get handed out.

  Tuesday, July 22nd

  I got up an extra hour early so I wouldn’t be stressed out before the meeting, but after changing clothes twenty times, I ended up barely making it out the door on time.

  I wanted something that said professional without being dowdy. Fashionable without being trendy. Modern without being pretentious. Nothing in my closet seemed to make all those statements.

  Traffic was a little heavier than I expected, and by the time I pulled into valet at the Ritz and got directions to her office, it was nine o’clock on the dot without a minute to spare.

  The door was closed and locked with no lights visible through the glass panel. I checked my watch and my phone in case I’d screwed up the time, but both confirmed it was nine.

  It was clearly the right location. Hers was the only office in the narrow hallway off a small courtyard on the side of the convention center. The glass panel was etched with her double “R” insignia with her name below the design in a scrawling cursive. Two lush armchairs sat in the hallway just outside the door with a stack of magazines on the table between the chairs. Reynalda stared at me from the covers.

  When fifteen minutes had passed with no sign of anyone, I began to worry that I had misunderstood where to meet. I checked the address I’d written down, which was clearly the Ritz.

  I gave it another five minutes and called Reynalda’s number, which went straight to voice mail.

  When a half hour had passed, I stood and walked to the end of the hallway, trying to decide what to do. Should I just leave? Should I ask at the convention services office or front desk if they knew her whereabouts? I opted to go to the restroom first and make decisions if no one was there when I returned.

  The light was on when I got back so I opened the door and went inside. It wasn’t an office space in the traditional sense. It had originally been conference space. A nice area for a breakfast room or a small breakout lunch. The ceilings were low but lit with two exquisite chandeliers. The back wall was filled with windows overlooking manicured gardens and the lake with its massive spray fountain beyond the grass. The rich tapestry walls in soft peach tones were complimented by the upholstered sofas and chairs she had placed in a vignette to the right of the entrance. Two large mahogany desks dominated the nearest half of the room with copy machines and file cabinets lining the walls on either side. An ornate double screen in mahogany had been erected behind the desks, and through the design I could see another desk banked against the windows.

  A young girl—well, younger than me—emerged from behind the screen and greeted me. She wore a pale pink skirt with a snug white sweater, which looked great on her petite frame, whereas on me it would have looked like it didn’t fit.

  “You must be Tyler,” she said, extending her hand in greeting. “I’m making coffee if you’d like some. Reynalda will be here shortly.”

  “Yes, coffee would be great. I’m sorry. I thought I was supposed to be here at nine?” I glanced down at my watch. It was nine-forty.

  “Yeah, nine. Reynalda’s just running a couple minutes late. She’ll be here soon.” The girl I assumed was Heidi turned and went through a door I hadn’t noticed before. The telltale red soles on the bottom of her nude pumps shone like a beacon as she walked away, and I immediately had shoe envy.

  I took a seat on the nearest sofa for lack of anything better to do and wondered if I’d stepped into some weird alternate time zone. Since when was forty minutes late considered a couple of minutes? Lillian would have had my head on the chopping block if I’d been forty minutes late to a meeting. And with no apology? No explanation? No call to let me know she was on her way? My first impression wasn’t a good one, and I hadn’t even met her yet.

  It was almost ten when Reynalda finally glided into the room.

  Her perfume preceded her entrance. It was heavy and floral, and it stung my eyes and burned my nostrils.

  She was hardly a size zero. I don’t know if they make negative sizes, but if they did, that’s what she’d wear. Even though she was tiny, she had curves, and her crimson red wrap dress hugged every one of them in all the right places. She wore strappy stilettos that I recognized as Jimmy Choo, and she carried several designer shopping bags in both hands.

  She didn’t make eye contact with me or greet me in any way, despite my obvious presence in the room. Instead, she breezed past me and continued behind the mahogany screen, depositing her packages on the floor with a huff.

  “Heidi!” she yelled. “Do something with these bags.”

  I could see Reynalda through the carved design on the screen, rummaging through papers on her desk.

  The girl came out and scooped up the bags, taking them with her back into the other room.

  “Heidi!” Reynalda yelled again. “Who’s here?”

  Heidi reemerged and disappeared behind the screen, still visible, as was Reynalda.

  “That’s Tyler Warren. Your nine o’clock. She’s here about interning the wedding.”

  “Right. Okay. Tell her I’ll be a minute.”

  Was she actually under some delusion that I couldn’t hear every word she was saying? We were in the same room. Separated only by a piece of wood with holes in it. I could see her.

  Heidi leaned out from behind the screen and gave me a smile. “Reynalda will be right with you.”

  I nodded at her before she disappeared again and I turned my attention back to watching Reynalda behind the screen. She went and looked out the window for a few minutes. She rummaged through paperwork again. She popped open a compact mirror and checked her hair and makeup. Reapplied the blood-red lipstick on her obviously injected pout.

  It actually seemed like she was stalling to meet me, though for what purpose I have no idea.

  When sh
e finally told Heidi to show me in, the hour I’d blocked out for the meeting had already passed and then some.

  I followed Heidi behind the screen, more than a little irritated and under-impressed. Reynalda stood by the window turned at an odd angle which suggested she’d posed in just that spot awaiting my arrival.

  “Tyler, this is Reynalda Riley,” Heidi said in what may as well have been a pre-recorded message for all the pomp it conveyed.

  Reynalda turned slightly and appeared startled, as though she hadn’t realized she had company and was surprised to see us standing there. “Oh, well hello, Tyler. Welcome, welcome.” She extended her hand, but it was turned over. I don’t know if she expected me to kiss it, but I grabbed hold and shook it anyway.

  “Sit, sit.” She indicated the upholstered zebra print fur chairs across from her desk, which clashed so badly with the muted and elegant surroundings that they almost seemed a joke.

  “So how long have you been with Lillian and Laura?” she asked as she sat on the edge of her huge desk, one leg braced against the floor on her Jimmy Choos and the other slender leg swinging slowly back and forth in a contrived movement that in no way looked casual or without effort.

  I got the feeling everything this woman did was calculated for the effect it would have, and I had to wonder what she was like when she was all alone with no one to watch her.

  “Going on four years now.”

  She crossed her arms and tapped a long manicured finger against her sleeve. “So. What brings you to my door? Why would you want to intern if you’ve already been doing weddings for four years?”

  Her stare was so direct and so bold that I found it hard to maintain eye contact. Her make-up was impeccable. She must have someone do it for her. Her eyelashes were gargantuan. A long, thick black fringe framing her dark chocolate eyes. Her hair tumbled in waves around her shoulders but was pulled up away from her face in a small hive atop her head. Probably one of those bun things you see on TV. Her hair was almost the same color as her eyes, a rich, dark brown with subtle hints of auburn. I guessed her to be mid-thirties, but she obviously went to great lengths in self-care so it’s possible she was older.

  I kind of thought Laura would have already explained to her what we were trying to accomplish, but based on her question, I guess not.

  “I’ve recently been promoted, and I wanted to visit other event planning companies to expand my knowledge base.”

  Reynalda didn’t reply. She just stared at me through those ginormous lashes.

  Heidi came in with coffee and handed us both a cup. Reynalda stood as she took hers and went behind her desk to sit.

  I noticed the zebra chairs were a little lower than her desk chair, so that even though she was a petite lady, she still appeared taller than me as we looked across the desk at each other.

  “Have you ever heard of a yard sale?”

  The question caught me off guard. What the hell did that have to do with anything?

  “Um, yes. I have.”

  “So in theory, people take stuff out of their homes they no longer want, and set up a shop in their driveway to sell it?”

  I’m sure my expression betrayed my bewilderment. “Yes, that’s basically how it works.”

  “People buy it, though? They actually come into someone’s driveway, rummage through their castoffs, and then hand them cash for it?”

  I nodded.

  “How crude. So how much money could be made?”

  I scrunched my brows together in confusion and uncertainty. “I’m not sure. I suppose that depends on what was being sold.”

  “My housekeeper tells me she and her sister are having a yard sale this weekend to help pay for her daughter’s wedding. Is this something people do?”

  My brows scrunched tighter. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard of it, but I guess they could? Again, it would depend on what they had to sell.”

  I couldn’t for the life of me imagine how on earth this pertained to the event I was supposed to help with. Were some hip-hop star and his swimsuit model going to have a yard sale to pay for their event? For real?

  “Heidi? Ring the usual list of media and tell them I have an idea for an article. Then research yard sales and get me some statistics on how many happen annually and what income they generate. See if you can find anyone who has actually done this to pay for a wedding and get me a quote. I’d like to see this in an issue somewhere next month to get publicity before the Woodcock wedding, so get on it pronto. Bring me the file for Donaldson.”

  I heard the file cabinet open and close as Reynalda stared at me over her coffee cup.

  “Here you go.” Heidi placed a thick binder on the desk in front of Reynalda, who set down the cup and opened the binder. Paper-clipped to the inside was a manila folder of papers, which Reynalda handed to me.

  “I’ll keep the original file here, of course, but Heidi has already made copies of the most pertinent information you’ll need. You’re to meet with the clients on Friday at eleven. They’ll expect an update from you on their vendor proposals, especially the floral orders. You’ll need to get from them a definitive song list for the band and a payment method for the furniture rental. I also need you to come up with a projected timeline and itinerary for them to sign off on. Heidi can get you letterhead to print that on. Welcome aboard.”

  With that, she stood and walked away. No goodbye. No parting handshake. Not a single sentence of discussion about the wedding, the clients, what my role would be, or how any of it pertained to a freakin’ yard sale.

  Now I have three days to memorize all I can in the limited details they copied for me and come up with updates from her vendors on her event with no prior knowledge of what’s going on.

  So needless to say, I told Cabe I wouldn’t be packing tonight. Instead, I’ll be studying the file and firing off emails while Cabe heads to Dean’s for gaming. Oh lucky me.

  Wednesday, July 23rd

  This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

  The paperwork they gave me is minimal. Pretty much nothing has been done for this wedding, and now I’ve got to somehow pull a bunch of plans out of my rump in order to meet with the bride and groom on Friday and present myself as having my act together.

  Is Reynalda Riley really this clueless or is she just malicious enough to compromise her own business to set me up to fail?

  I’ve tried to call her several times today but her phone always goes straight to voice mail. How on earth does someone run a business without ever answering their phone? (Okay, come to think of it, Lillian does the same thing and seems to be successful, but whatever.)

  Six messages on Reynalda’s phone and three messages on the main company line later, I finally got a call back from Heidi as Cabe and I were on our way to dinner.

  “Heidi? Thanks for calling me back. Look, there are several things that Reynalda wanted me to report on with the client on Friday that haven’t been put in place yet. I’ve sent emails and made phone calls, but I’m waiting to hear back from vendors and I may not have what we need before Friday. I’m not sure what she wants me to do.”

  I heard Reynalda talking in the background as Heidi paused. “She said just do the best you can and be ready Friday.”

  “Oh, is Reynalda there? That’s great. I’ve been trying to reach her all day.”

  Another pause, and distinct whispering in the background. “Reynalda has stepped out, but she said just do the best you can with what you have and send her an update Friday morning before the meeting.”

  My temper flared hot at the very idea that this woman would put me in such an impossible situation with her clients and refuse to talk to me. Then have someone lie to do so.

  “Heidi, I can hear her talking. I know she’s there. Can you please put her on the phone?”

  Another long pause. My phone beeped its low battery warning. A quick glance showed me the battery had barely any red left, which meant my phone was about to die. Aargh.

  “Heidi? Can you hear m
e? My phone’s about to die, but I need to talk to Reynalda. I can’t go in and meet with her clients without talking to her. Decisions need to be made. I need more information”—my phone beeped again—”so can you please put her on the phone?”

  When they paused again, I couldn’t hear any whispering in the background, and I thought my phone had died. I reached for Cabe’s phone in the console between the seats but then heard Reynalda’s voice in my ear.

  “Tyler, hello! Sorry I haven’t called you back. I had meetings and interviews back to back today and it’s been brutal.”

  “Reynalda, hi. Look, my phone’s about to die, but I really need to talk to you. Can I please call you right back from my fiancé’s phone?”

  “Actually, I need to run right now, but listen. I realize the file hasn’t had much attention. We’ve been shorthanded here in the office, and Heidi and I haven’t been able to focus on these clients, which is why I thought our arrangement would be perfect. Laura spoke so highly of you, and you mentioned your recent promotion. I know Lillian Graham would not promote anyone she didn’t have full confidence in. So just take it and run with it. I’m sure any decision you make will be fine. We’ll talk later.”

  “Wait! Reynalda! I need to talk to you with specific questions. Can I please call you back from my fiancé’s phone? I’ll be brief, but I need—”

  “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at eleven on Friday.”

  “Wait—can we talk before then?”

  Whether she hung up first or my phone died first I’ll never know, but she was gone. I tried calling her number and the office number from Cabe’s phone and got no answer at either.

  “Ugh!” I growled, tempted to slam my phone into the dashboard but realizing that would do nothing to solve the problem and would only leave me without a phone. “What a bitch! How does she do business this way?”

  “Have you talked to Laura? Can they do anything?” Cabe asked as we exited the car at the valet stand.

  I shook my head. “I haven’t. I spent all day trying to go over what each of the vendors sent to see what I could match up with the file. I swear they didn’t give me everything. There has to be more in the file that I’m not seeing, but none of the vendors had complete profiles either. I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell these people on Friday. Hi, I’m Tyler, and I have no information for you? Oh, and by the way, can you give me a credit card for the furniture order I’ve never seen?”