Beach Wedding

by Cruise, Bella

  “Pixie?” Marcie interrupts. “One more take?”

  Theo winks at her. “You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

  Pixie is reassured. “OK, one more time.”

  “Perfect.” Marcie sighs. “Places, everyone!”

  I move a safe distance away, while they try it one more time. So much for being discreet: since the production arrived in town this week, all of Pelican Key Cove has come to a standstill. There are massive trailers parked along the streets, electrical cables running everywhere, and people clustered watching on every corner, getting their glimpse of real life celebrities.

  “No, act natural!” Marcie tries calling to the group of townspeople standing woodenly by the square. “Just walk around, go about your business. Ignore them!”

  She’ll be lucky. Everyone’s preening for their big moment on-screen. This town is usually all about casual beach wear: no shoes, no shirt, no problem. But ever since the crew rolled in, I’m seeing full makeup and enough fancy cocktail dresses to fill a pleasure boat cruise. Right now, there’s a group of teenage girls giggling by the library, wearing skin-tight skirts and sky-high heels, like they’re about the hit the Miami club scene. It’s a novelty right now, but I’m worried how people will take it in another week, when the excitement’s worn off and they’re faced with a massive production cluttering up their town.

  I duck under a barrier and find a quiet spot to check my messages. If there’s one good thing about all the chaos, it’s been helping keep my mind off that kiss with Luke. Almost.

  I sigh, remembering the feel of his lips on mine. I haven’t seen or heard from him since that night, even though I find myself searching every crowd and passing face. But try as I might to distract myself, I can’t help replaying it over and over in my mind.

  What was he thinking?

  Get your head in the game, I tell myself sternly. He was probably just falling victim to the same nostalgia I was feeling too. Old chemistry dies hard, but I need to focus on this wedding if I’m going to pull off the job of a lifetime. Otherwise, my failure’s going to be broadcast to the nation on almost-live TV.

  “There you are,” Theo finds me hiding behind a trailer. “They finally got the scene wrapped. Now Marcie needs us for a staff meeting at the inn.” He turns to leave.

  “Wait, come walk over with me.”

  Theo frowns. “I was supposed to go fetch Pixie’s juice. She’s getting them sent in from the city, but they have to be drunk fresh.”

  “Um, aren’t you supposed to be my assistant?” I ask. “Where’s my cold-pressed vegan agave juice?”

  Theo laughs. “Uh, if I brought you one of those, you’d probably fire me on the spot. Don’t worry, I’ll still keep you in coffee and cell phone chargers. I just figure, you know, happy bride, happy life.”

  “Uh huh.” I watch him, narrowing my eyes. “Just remember, I’m going to need you for this job even more than usual. The rest of the team is up in New York handling my regular clients. It’s just you and me for this rodeo, partner.”

  “Yee haw.” Theo grins.

  We stroll over to the inn. Just as I expected, the crew has taken over every square inch of available space in this town. They have people bunking two to a room at the old motel by the beach, and Pixie and Clyde are staying right here at the Pelican’s Nest. It’s definitely a far cry from Kincaid Kastle: no whirlpool tub in the middle of the bedroom, just old wicker furniture and tiny pelican figurines at every turn.

  “Marcie’s in a foul mood today,” Theo warns me, whispering as we step through the front door. “Apparently, nowhere in town does gluten-free. She nearly had a meltdown at the bakery trying to get a wheat-free muffin.”

  I laugh. “I can just picture Eddie’s face. Good luck with that one.”

  “I’ll try and get the juice people to bring some on their trips.” He catches my incredulous look. “Hey, as far as I’m concerned, we’re dealing with two brides here. Pixie needs to keep calm, but Marcie’s the one you’re really pleasing.”

  I look at him, impressed. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

  Theo’s idea makes perfect sense. I’ve been going about this all wrong, trying to ignore Marcie and focus on keeping the couple happy. But if she’s our proxy bride, then I need to make sure she’s not worried about a single element of this wedding. “Thanks.”

  Theo grins. “I’m not just a pretty face.”

  We meet the others in the Tiki-decorated living room. Marcie’s there with her production assistants, plus Pixie and Clyde, and the director, Enrique. He’s a serious-looking man with a tiny goatee. Whenever I’ve tried talking to him about the show, he just mutters something about ‘cinematic verisimilitude’ and ‘ur-reality as a statement of modernism’. I make sure to take a seat on the other side of the room from him.

  “So,” I greet Marcie brightly. “Looks like everything’s running smoothly.”

  She blinks. “Are you kidding me? This is a disaster!” She lets out a piercing whistle for silence. “People, I’ve been reviewing the dailies, and this stuff is useless. Worse than useless. A total waste of time.”

  “I thought today was sweet!” I protest. Rule 1 of dealing with difficult brides: see the bright side in everything.

  Marcie just snorts. “You mean dull as a freaking dishrag. ‘Babes, I love you.’ ‘Pumpkin, I love you too’,” she mimics. “We need drama! Action! A reason for your fans to keep tuning in, instead of just changing the channel and looking at all the wedding photos online.” She looks at me. “Where are we with the wedding plans? Any juice there?”

  I’m not sure what she means by juice, but I’ll go squeeze a dozen of the oranges on the tree out front if it means keeping this gig running smoothly.

  “I’ve put together a checklist. I usually sit down with the couple to start making decisions. We need to pick a venue, a theme, flowers. Bachelorette party, too, so we can send invitations and get all her friends lined up. Luckily, everything’s local,” I continue, “So Pixie and Clyde will be able to meet everyone, and get a real sense of the wedding.”

  “Yes!” Marcie exclaims, lighting up. “Of course, we can film all this stuff. America will love watching them get their hands dirty. You can fight over the table settings, make up with a romantic cake tasting. Will they make it to the altar, or will the wedding planning tear them apart? Front page, guaranteed. Love. It.”

  “You want us to break up?” Pixie looks confused.

  “No, don’t worry,” Marcie soothes her. “It’s just like the costume ball last year, remember? You and Olivia both came dressed as slutty sloths, and had that big fight and fell in the chocolate fountain. But we’d planned it all along.”

  “Oh.” Pixie brightens. “I can do that. It was fun. Like real acting.”

  “Exactly!” Marcie cheers. “You got that, Clyde?”

  “Huh?” Clyde looks spacey. “Oh, yeah, whatever.” He yawns. “I think it’s time for my disco nap.”

  “Just a few more things.” I can see Marcie speaking through gritted teeth, and surprisingly, I feel a little sympathetic. I’m exhausted after a week, but she’s been trying to corral this pair into action for a few years now.

  Pixie raises her hand.

  “Yes?” Marcie asks.

  “Have you found us someplace else to stay yet?” Pixie looks around. “I told you, the feng shui in this place is all wrong. My energy consultant skyped in, and she says my room is going to be really unlucky.”

  “And we can’t have that!” Clyde cracks, chortling.

  Marcie takes a deep breath. She looks about ready to snap, so I quickly speak up. “I have the number of a new developer, Driftwood Realty. They have several luxury beach houses in the area. I was going to scout as a possible wedding venue, but I can see if they have any rentals available.”

  Marcie exhales with a relieved look. “There you go. Ginny will take care of it.” She gives me the ghost of a smile, so I take my cue to leave before the fireworks start again.

 
; “Call me if you have any big wedding ideas!”

  It’s a relief to get a moment alone away from the madness. I get in my car, and head out of town. True to his word, Theo drove my vintage old convertible down from New York. It feels like bliss to be back behind the steering wheel with the top down and the sun on my face. The beach stretches beside the highway, a shimmering white expanse leading down to the sapphire ocean.

  As work assignments go, this isn’t too shabby. Which is what I need to keep reminding myself every time Marcie makes a new outrageous request, like organizing the entire town to do a flashmob dance routine for the show trailer. But I’ve handled my share of crazy brides in my time, and I’m confident I can keep a level head, even if everyone around me seems to be losing theirs.

  I pull out my notebook and check the address. The developer has a show home office just a few miles south of town, so I drive over. Hopefully, it’s the kind of place that can meet even Pixie’s outlandish standards. I’m lucky, crashing at my aunts’ place, but I want to make sure the happy couple are comfortable, too. I’ve learned that nothing makes a bride more agreeable than a good night’s sleep on three hundred thread count sheets.

  I reach the address and turn off the highway. At the end of a short driveway the house rears up, an incredible modern design with a whole wall of glass looking out across the bay. It looks like it belongs in Architectural Digest, a sharp contrast to Pelican Key’s usual rustic charm.

  I feel a shiver of excitement, the way I always do when a piece of the puzzle falls into place. Pixie and Clyde are going to love this place, and, maybe more importantly, Marcie will, too.

  I park and get out. There’s no sign for an office or where to go, so I climb the back steps to the main floor. “Hello?” I call, looking around for a bell. The door is open, so I push it wider and step inside.

  Wow.

  I take a breath. The living area is all open plan, modern and sleek, but everything pales in comparison to the jaw-dropping view out of that wall of glass. Ocean and sky stretch endlessly toward the horizon. I stare, taking it in, until I hear a noise behind me.

  “Sorry.” I turn, ready to introduce myself to the owner of this incredible house. But my words fade on my lips.

  It’s Luke.

  Chapter Eight

  “Ginny.” Luke looks as confused as I am. He’s wearing worn faded jeans and a plain white T-shirt, with some rolled up papers under his arm and a tool belt slung around his waist. He looks way too good to be taking a girl by surprise. A face like that should come with a warning. “What are you doing here?”

  I scramble to pull it together. “You work for Driftwood Properties?”

  He gives a lopsided smile. “It’s my company. I studied architecture, in the end. Now I design and develop luxury properties.”

  “That’s… amazing.” I’m seriously impressed. Every inch of this property looks perfect and thoughtfully planned. “Wait, those other houses further up the shore. Are they yours, too?”

  He nods. “I built them a couple of years ago. They got snapped up the minute they hit the market. Now there’s a waiting list as long as my arm.”

  “Wow,” I say again, still thrown. “This is amazing. Really, Luke, you’ve got a great talent.”

  “Thanks.” He pauses and shoves his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “So what can I do for you?”

  I remember the last time we spoke, and feel a flush on my cheeks. “I, umm, I need a house. For my clients, Pixie and Clyde. Remember them?”

  Luke chuckles. “How could I forget?”

  I smile too. “Well, they’re going stir crazy in the inn, so we need a place for them to stay for the rest of filming. Another three, four weeks maybe?”

  He nods. “That could work. I keep this place as a show home for clients, but if you need something move in ready, it’s pretty much good to go. You want a tour?” he asks.

  “Sure, I’d love to see it.”

  Luke shows me to the kitchen, with the gleaming concrete countertops and stainless steel appliances. “I try and build around the views,” he says. “You should be able to see the ocean from every point in the house.”

  “Even the bathrooms?” I crack.

  “You bet.” Luke takes me downstairs and shows me into the master suite. Just like upstairs, there’s an amazing glass wall looking out across the ocean. I can see massive walk in closets, and a modern four-poster bed. It’s like something from a magazine.

  “They’re going to love this place,” I say, a touch of envy in my voice. “I forget how much space you have down here. My place in New York is barely big enough to squeeze a sofa, let alone all this.”

  “There are some perks to small town living.”

  I check if that’s a pointed note in his voice, but Luke’s expression is still relaxed.

  “Come in here. This is my favorite spot.” Luke shows me to the bathroom. It’s tiled in gorgeous pale marble, and right under the windows is a deep soaking tub that’s more like a small pool.

  “You’re kidding me,” I gape. “It’s like you’re actually swimming in the ocean!” I look around again. “I can’t believe you built all of this.”

  “Me and my crew,” he corrects modestly.

  “You know what I mean. You had the vision, and you brought it to life.” I look at him, so impressed by the man he’s become. The old Luke was always just happy to hang out, take things easy, and let life pass him by. He never seemed to understand my ambition, or that hunger to make more of my life. But here he is now, the head of a successful company, with a real skill and vision. “You should be proud of yourself. I bet your dad was.”

  Luke looks away. “Yeah, I think so. He helped me with the plans for this place,” he adds, his voice quiet. “It was always our dream to build it together. But I guess he’ll never know I finished.”

  Before I can stop myself, I place a gentle hand on his arm. “He knows.”

  Luke looks up, sadness in his eyes that I know all too well. I’ve been carrying that absence ever since my own parents passed. Out of everyone, Luke was always the one who helped me the most when I was missing them. He knew when to crack a joke and lift my spirits, and when to just be there, silent and loving, to help me through.

  He swallows, and then slowly steps away. My hand drops. “So, you think you’ll take it?” Luke says, and clears his throat. “It’s ten thousand a week.”

  “The production will take care of it,” I nod, wishing I could say something else. “Thanks.”

  Luke heads back upstairs. I follow, wracking my brains for something else to say. Should I mention the kiss, or should I just follow his lead and act like it never happened?

  I’m saved from having to decide. Upstairs, a bright looking young woman is waiting with a stack of papers in her hand and a phone under her ear. “Yes, he’s right here,” she says. “Luke? It’s the plumbing guy.”

  He gives me a rueful look. “I gotta take this. Just leave your details with Gracie here, and we’ll get this fixed up. Rental agreement,” he mouths to Gracie as he takes the phone and stride over to the windows. “No, Bill, you’re killing me on this…”

  “Hello?” Gracie pulls me back. “I have the paperwork right here.”

  “Sure,” I say, turning away from the sight of him against the ocean, illuminated by the midday sun. “Whatever you need.”

  Instead of driving straight back into bedlam, I take a detour down the coast. I find myself driving to that spot Luke and I always used to park, the secluded place where the woods and marshland meet the water. I hope it hasn’t been razed over for some hotel to build, but to my relief, it’s still deserted. Nothing but a cluster of pelicans and a swaying palm for company as I park, turn the radio off, and look out across the bay.

  Luke’s a man now.

  In my mind, he’s always been frozen as that easy-smiled, charming boy of eighteen. Now, I can see ten years have made their changes. Not just physical – his shoulders are broader, that tanned face more
weathered with the stubble – but the way he carries himself, too. There’s a new confidence, but a quiet maturity, like he’s at ease in his own skin.

  Losing his dad must have been a terrible blow, but he seems to have made it through all right, building the business and a life for himself. I told him his father would be proud, but I am, too. I always knew he was capable of doing great things. I always tried to tell him, but he just took that as a sign I didn’t think he was good enough yet.

  I let out a wistful sigh. We sure made a mess of things back then, and I was the one to carry most of the blame. But we didn’t know any better, two kids so swept up in each other they didn’t know how to steer that steady course. I’ve been telling myself for ten years now that passion like the kind we shared was bound to go down in flames, but coming back here, seeing him so settled, it makes my heart ache with the terrible question:

  What if I’d never left at all?

  It could be me that Luke comes home to every night, me curled up beside him for a sunset drink. Talking about our days, laughing and kissing the way we used to. And then, later, heading off to bed…

  I force my thoughts away from that king-sized bed at the house. It’s all just make-believe, I know. Even if I’d stuck around longer, never made that midnight drive out of town, we wouldn’t be the people we are now. Luke would have driven me crazy with his laziness and carefree attitude, and I would have felt my frustrations build, itching for a freedom I needed to taste for myself before it could be sated.

  But still, the ‘what if’s circle like gulls, calling their echoes into the wind. Maybe it would be easier if I’d fallen in love like that again, but my dating life since leaving Pelican Key Cove has been nothing to write home about. I didn’t really date in college, still too raw and heartbroken about what I’d left behind, and then the whole New York scene just seemed too fast and polished for me. Guys would keep one eye on the door and the other on their phone in case something better came along. Or, worse, the endless parade of first dates where you have nothing in common and just awkward silence to fill until one of you finally calls for the check.