by Tif Marcelo
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, but let’s stay focused on next steps. Jane, what can we do right now?” Mari turned to the logical sister and ignored the growing frown on Pearl’s face. This wasn’t the time for another pitch. During an emergency wasn’t the time to take a big risk.
“We stop spending. Seriously. Like, as in, zero new branding efforts, Pearl. I know we have it all set to plan for a new website and graphics, but we have to hold off.”
“That’s crap.” Pearl crossed her arms. “Publicity and marketing has to remain the number one priority. We can’t service clients we don’t have. But wait—the bridal expo. Please tell me we’re not backing out of it.”
“The expo will be fine. The booth is paid for, though we’ll have to be careful with our swag expenditures.” Jane took a breath. “Next, salaries. We can’t take on another employee or paid intern, and we have to pay ourselves less. If I had it my way, just living expenses for now.”
“We can do that.” Mari glanced at Pearl, who nodded.
“Finally, we have to charge in full for future family events.”
Mari winced.
“I know.” Jane frowned. “That is going to be our most unpopular decision. The family won’t be happy.”
The title of family went beyond blood relatives, to extended relatives and close friends. In line with the de la Rosas’ cultural ideals, family—literal and figurative—was given five-star service for a two-star price. But that was before the red numbers on Jane’s screen. Before Mari became CEO. “Okay, I’ll take care of it.”
Mari’s appetite all but disappeared. The positive: they had a chance to turn the business around if they focused. One thing was clear. Not a single risk was to be taken that could derail the de la Rosas’ bottom line. Time to live frugally and spread the bad news to the family that the gravy train was over.
part two
A rose must remain with the sun and the rain or its lovely promise won’t come true.
—Ray Evans
six
Mood: “Raise Your Glass” by Pink
The NBA had the Finals; the MLB had the World Series. The NFL, the Super Bowl. Rings & Roses had Wedding Day, the culmination of months of coordination, of weaving the intricate and the mundane, of fielding panicked phone calls and emails. Wedding Day was the romantic conclusion.
In Pearl’s eyes, Wedding Day was also always deliciously dramatic.
This morning, the Robinson-Ortega wedding was in its final quarter. From the sanctuary of St. Mary’s Catholic Church, a hired quartet played a Celtic version of Pachelbel’s Canon in D. The groom’s party stepped out in perfect time to the music—all were wearing the barong tagalog, including the groom; Pearl internally patted herself on the back for this win—toward the priest at the front of the church. The pews were packed. Everything seemed perfect.
The church’s foyer told a different story. Currently, Pearl was trying to mitigate an MOB and MOG, or mother of the bride and mother of the groom, catfight. Despite the women wearing delicate attire, their scowls were a sure sign neither one was afraid of throwing down.
Standing between Mrs. Robinson and Mrs. Ortega, Pearl sorted out the details of their disagreement:
One of them had put the other in charge of purchasing the veil and the cord, two critical items for a Filipino Catholic wedding ceremony. At the dress rehearsal yesterday afternoon, where they acted out the ceremony using an imaginary cord and veil, Pearl hadn’t thought to ask who was bringing the actual items this morning.
Pearl discovered that neither family had purchased them.
This type of mishap was yet another reason why Pearl wanted to be part of the planning stages. Details fell in the cracks when there were too many chefs in the kitchen. She’d only had a month with Chrissy, when she’d pieced together the timeline and her already hired vendors. After charcuterie with her sisters last night, she’d ensured the groomsmen hadn’t parked themselves in some bar somewhere too long. This morning, she’d double-checked that the cake was securely at the Fil-Am Community Center and that the head table had been relocated to the middle of the room.
Oh crap. Pearl’s heart sank. She hadn’t told catering that huge detail. She pulled her phone from her back pocket, streamlining her thoughts. She glanced at Carli, her assistant for the day, who was waiting for her instructions. The noise in the foyer rose; Pearl’s heart beat in her ear.
“Carli, do you mind backing the bridal party up a few feet for some space, please?” Pearl gestured to the frightened Chrissy and nodded at her MOH, or maid of honor, in silent communication. The MOH hastily gathered Chrissy’s extended train. Carli ushered them and the six bridesmaids and four flower girls deeper into the church’s hallway. Meanwhile, the two mothers continued to bicker.
“Mrs. Robinson, Mrs. Ortega, please, there’s a solution to this.” She kept her voice low. No doubt, the rest of the church inside had heard the commotion, even above the music. Pearl dialed the shop in silent prayer someone was there to answer. Jane, too, had a wedding today, starting in an hour. Mari was her assistant. They could be in transit. “We can fix this.”
Mari answered the other line. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Pearl’s relief switched to humiliation. She expected me to mess up. But she swallowed her pride and took a breath. “I need a cord and veil from stock, please. And I need it at St. Mary’s ASAP.”
Mari sighed. “This is on our Day-Of Event Checklist, Pearl. You said you were all set. I hate it when you do that, when you say things just so I lay off—”
“I . . .” Pearl started. Next to her, Mrs. Ortega huffed at Mrs. Robinson, stomping once in her short heel. Her makeup cracked as a deep scowl created a wrinkle between her eyebrows.
“How much is that going to cost? Naku, this is your fault, Sara,” Mrs. Ortega said.
“Oh, who cares?” Mrs. Robinson’s hand flew in the air, exasperated. “I’m paying for everything anyway.”
Someone in the foyer gasped. Carli, who’d stepped up to the circle, bit her lip to stop a giggle.
Yes, it was entertaining, and if Pearl had been a bystander, she’d have pulled up a chair and grabbed some popcorn to watch it all unfold. But she had been hired to fix this. She had been hired not to have forgotten items in the first place.
She had also been hired to make sure the head table was set up in the right place.
The procession music repeated. The low rumble of voices from the pews reminded Pearl that time was ticking by and her pride had to take a back seat. She hated to do it, but it was time to beg.
“Ate Mari. Please.” She interrupted her sister’s rant while she feigned a smile to the bridal party who was watching her intently. “The least ornate of the stock. And hold for one moment.” With a soothing voice, she settled her face into a warm smile and turned to Mrs. Ortega. “It won’t be but a small charge. And it can be here in less than ten minutes since the shop is just up the road.”
With that, the two ladies calmed, but Mari snapped in her ear. “You can’t send Carli down here? I have to head to Jane in five minutes.”
“The procession has begun,” Pearl said, then gritted her teeth. Her blood pressure escalated at her sister’s inability to just go with it. Mari knew emergencies happened, that wedding planners forgot things, too. It was like her sister was hell-bent on proving that Pearl wasn’t ready for a big client.
“Fine,” Mari said.
“Great. Hold on.” She gestured for Carli to reposition the bridal party. She led the parents of the bride and groom to the church doors and cued their entrance. When everyone was in place, she found a quiet corner. “Ate? I need another favor.”
“Yes?”
“Please call Ivanna at Fanciful Catering. We need the head table set up in the middle of the room.”
“Pearl!”
“No lecture, please. Help me?”
“Of course I’ll help you. These are amateur mistakes, is all.”
“I know,
I know. But I’ve got to go. Thank you.” Pearl hung up, 100 percent upset but confident that all would be fine. If there was anyone who could remedy mix-ups, it was Mari.
Pearl marched down the right aisle of the church. She signaled Father John with a thumbs-up. The groom, standing to the left of the priest, visibly relaxed at her cue.
Thank you, God. That was close. And remembering she was at a church, she whispered, “Please, let the rest of it run smoothly.” She’d told Mari she was ready for a top. She couldn’t make any more mistakes.
St. Mary’s Church had a modern, minimalist feel with a simple altar and a large hanging cross, bringing attention to its curved archways and stained glass panel windows. Sun shone through the glass, and warm beams of maroon, gold, and blue gave the place a feeling of hope. A generous swath of white fabric draped the center aisle and a trail of greenery marked each pew.
The quartet quieted after the wedding party entered. Pearl cued the organist. With a flourish, the musician raised her arms. “Wedding March” piped through the space and the congregation stood. And when Chrissy proceeded down the aisle to meet her groom, the swell in Pearl’s chest grew. Tears sprang to her eyes, right on time.
The tissue was already in her hand, taken from her discreet dress pocket. She stepped deeper into the dark corner of the church and dabbed her eyes.
This moment. This moment was worth the stress, each and every time. The trouble, the fights, the mad rush in the end. Even the unforeseen disasters. This scene in front of her was her reason. This happily ever after, if even for just this day, for this couple.
The phone in her hand buzzed. Trenton. You ok?
The Ortegas and Youngs were cousins by marriage, though it didn’t dawn on her until then that Trenton might have been invited to the ceremony. They hadn’t spoken since their couples’ yoga class, except for a quick text she’d sent thanking him for jumping in. She scanned the packed pews and spotted Kayla and Trenton. Kayla was taking a photo with her phone—illegal and she knew it. Chrissy had requested no cell phone photographs during the ceremony. Pearl’s fingers flew on her phone screen.
To Kayla: Put that phone away, you!
To Trenton: Now that C is down the aisle, I’m good. :)
Trenton: You’ve got this.
Pearl: Did you ever have any doubt?
Kayla: Party pooper.
Trenton: Not after you kicked my ass at crow pose I don’t. I mean, butt. Sorry, God.
A grin snuck onto Pearl’s face. He’d been a good sport attempting the intermediate poses despite being an amateur, but as the heat had risen in the room with the grunting, stretching bodies, he’d lost steam while she kept on, lifting herself into the crow position: both hands on the ground, body crouched, legs off the floor, bottom raised, knees resting lightly on her triceps. She’d even gotten an approving nod from Daphne behind her.
She bit her bottom lip: I need a favor. For this Friday the 23rd? You can say no if you’re not free.
Trenton: Pearly-pearl, yes, I will be your plus one at your next yoga class. Adding it to my calendar now. Consider it a birthday present.
She blushed. Twenty-six today and she’d almost forgotten. Thank you.
The phone buzzed again, though this time, it was Carli. OMG. Caterer called. DJ arrived drunk.
Crap. Pearl skirted the perimeter of the church while scrolling through her phone for the DJ’s number, heart pounding in anticipation of the butt whooping she would have to lay on him.
Forget birthdays. Weddings—they gave her life.
Pearl’s number-centric sister, Jane, once did a study of the shop’s clients and concluded that Rings & Roses successfully ushered ninety percent of their clients to the altar. Unfortunately, one out of ten weddings would never come to be. One example was a couple from Manassas, Virginia, who broke up a week before their wedding. It hadn’t surprised Pearl; they’d fought over all the details, down to the color of the napkins. Pearl also remembered a bride who’d left her groom at the altar for their officiant. The groom had been waiting patiently at the end of the aisle, alone, anticipating the yawn of the double doors for the pastor and his bride, only to be heartbroken when it never opened.
Today would not be a sad day. Despite being lectured by Mari, and the fight between the mothers, aside from a groomsman passing out during the ceremony because his knees locked, despite the ring bearer untying the claddagh ring from the ring pillow and dropping it onto the marble floor of the church, beyond finding another DJ within an hour’s time frame, the close call of the table arrangements, and the most embarrassing maid-of-honor speech from a woman as high as a balloon that had slipped from a little girl’s hand, the Orbinson wedding would go down as a win.
Now that it was all said and done, Pearl was going to enjoy this glass of Riesling in her hand.
She sat at the pop-up bar at the corner of the reception area. The guests had cleared and the cleaning staff was out in full force. Carts with dishes and silverware clinked passed her. The occasional instruction from a supervisor rose from the clanks and thumps of tables being moved, dismantled, and stacked. She’d sent Carli on the final run back to the shop while she oversaw the rest of the cleanup.
“There you are.” An accusatory high voice called from behind, followed by a signal guaranteed to snag the attention of any de la Rosa, and any Filipino, in Pearl’s opinion: Pssst.
Mari.
What was she doing here? Pearl scanned her brain for more of the day’s imperfections. No wedding was ever flawless, but Mari was a brilliant executioner. Her weddings appeared flawless, even to Pearl. Things always clicked into place for her. During crises, Mari had such a smooth facade; she was the epitome of calm. She was the best in the business, and right now, this thought infuriated Pearl. For while Mari wasn’t her boss, per se, pleasing her was the key to stepping up at Rings & Roses. She was the gatekeeper. As it was, Pearl knew she was due an earful because she hadn’t used her checklist, and for lying—Mari’s pet peeve.
Pearl set her glass back on the bar top, anticipating an admonishment that she shouldn’t have been drinking on the job, and took a long, deep breath. She turned in her seat and promptly relaxed, a laugh bubbling from her lips.
Mari wasn’t alone, nor was she empty-handed. With her was Jane, who’d raised the distinct blue bottle of her favorite Moscato in the air.
“Happy Birthday!” they said in unison, dancing in her direction despite the absence of music, and Pearl cackled at the silly sight. Mari reached over as the bartender passed her a corkscrew. Jane handed her an empty glass, brought two stools over, and created a circle. Mari poured a generous helping of Moscato into their glasses. From her pocket, she fished out a small bottle of San Pellegrino—she must have lost the bet and was dubbed the designated driver—and twisted the cap.
“You guys don’t know how much I needed this,” Pearl choked out as her sisters parked themselves on the stools, though she couldn’t quite look at Mari. “What are you both doing here?”
“Jane’s cleanup went much faster than expected so we thought we’d surprise you. And after your last phone call we thought you needed the wine . . .” Mari said, kindly, but the words stung anyway. “We couldn’t let the night go without making this part of the highlight reel. Hey.” She nudged Pearl.
Pearl raised her eyes to her sister’s. Their knees touched.
“You did it. You have a happy couple. That’s what matters. The rest are lessons we learn from, okay?”
Pearl didn’t understand how Mari could compartmentalize situations. How she could go from being cutthroat to comforting and expect for Pearl to just go with it. Mari treated situations as black and white. On and off. Now that Pearl’s event was over, suddenly they were back to being good?
“Pearl?” Mari had raised her green bottle up in a toast.
Pearl raised her glass.
“To the bunso of the family on her birthday.” Jane touched her glass to theirs. She was the toastmaster of the three, despite seeming t
he quietest. An objective person might have assumed that it meant she was shy, unsure of herself. Pearl and Mari knew better. Jane had the most to say.
“We are so proud of you.” She gazed at Pearl lovingly. “You might be the youngest, but you are the toughest, and the only one who could have handled today with such grace. Including an inquisition from one of our own.” She peered at Mari.
Mari shrugged. “Sorry?”
“May this year bring what your heart desires.”
“Hear, hear!” Mari cheered.
Pearl sipped her Moscato, cheeks burning at the toast, at what her heart desired . . .
A full-service client.
A true seat at the business’s table.
Autonomy.
But if the worst-case scenario happened, and she had to leave Rings & Roses, she would have to leave her sisters, too. She might not have agreed with her sisters’ decisions, but they had this partnership, this bond that couldn’t be re-created with another group of people.
“And”—Jane pulled out a credit-card-sized silver box—“your present.”
The box was tied with black ribbon and adorned by a tag with her name written in calligraphy. Over the years, the sisters had started going in together for a gift for the other—leading to creative results. Jane was still riding the heck out of her cruiser bicycle, complete with basket and bell; she hated driving when she could ride. And Mari—well, suffice it to say, their fiber levels were at peak from the fruit strips she made using the food dehydrator they’d given her last year.
Pearl didn’t bother being gentle. She tore the ribbon off and tossed the cover open, revealing a silver card, embossed with LU in block letters. She read the text. “Happy Birthday! You are now a Silver Member for Love Unlimited.” Pearl looked up at her sisters, both with frozen, slightly bemused smiles on their faces. “Love Unlimited. As in the matchmaker?” she asked.
“The one and only.” Jane sipped her wine.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say.” Was she supposed to laugh or be insulted? Did they think she needed help? That she needed a man? That she was a failure at dating?