The Key to Happily Ever After

by Tif Marcelo

  Pearl: But it’s you I love!

  Kayla: All right, you pass. Seriously. Belated bday dinner?

  Pearl: Yes! Ne—

  In the middle of her text, another flashed on the screen. Mari: You know what to do if the guy is no good.

  Pearl’s fingers flew on the touchscreen, somewhat wary after today’s interaction. Then, she remembered: this text was personal, not business. This was Ate Mari, the oldest sister, not the CEO. At the end of the day, Mari would’ve done anything in Pearl’s defense, as she’d done before. Pearl texted back: Food is magnificent. Location is perfect. He’s on his phone.

  The text dots appeared immediately. You’re on your phone.

  Pearl: He started it! Okay I’m ditching him. Maybe I’ll go to the bathroom and never come back.

  Mari: Check in when you’re done!

  Pearl: OK.

  She scrolled to the next notification. An email from Daphne Brown:

  Hi Pearl,

  Loved our convo yesterday. Could you send over your contract for us to review? No promises yet, but you said all the right things.

  xxx, D

  She pressed her lips together to keep herself from squealing. Daphne was almost hers. Her plan had worked like a charm. She imagined the months ahead, picking out linens, trying on wedding dresses, and tasting cake.

  “Where were we?” Winston’s tenor disrupted Pearl’s thoughts.

  She tore her eyes from the screen. Focus. Placing the phone screen-side down on the table, she cleared her throat. “I’m not sure, to be honest. Is everything okay?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your emails just now.” Pearl glanced at his phone, which coincidentally flashed another notification.

  “Oh, yeah. Just stuff I’m dealing with . . . you know how it goes.”

  Pearl waited for more. An explanation, maybe. If anything, a jump back into some random conversation. Instead, he turned his attention down to the last patty of his undoubtedly cold Jägerschnitzel and cut into it.

  She placed her plate to the side and brought her wineglass forward, scanning the restaurant for the waiter.

  “Wow. You took that dish out,” Winston said, being garish and loud.

  “It was delicious. It’s my favorite dish here.” She jumped into the cauldron of facts stored in her head. When she took on the social media position at Rings & Roses, she created a “Friday Fact Day” on Facebook and #FridayFacts on Twitter. Since then, her research had her providing interesting tidbits about local area venues and wedding statistics. “Did you know this restaurant is one of the oldest here in the area? It was built in—”

  “I mean, that was a huge helping.” Winston spoke with his mouth open, and when he bit down on his French fries, the crunch of his jaw sent nasty shivers through Pearl, though she wasn’t misophonic. “With the spätzle and the white asparagus. Plus our appetizers. I mean, wow.”

  She willed herself to ignore the chewing. “I was hungry.”

  “Obviously.” He chuckled. “Should we order you a second meal?”

  Okay, he was officially being rude now. “Is there something wrong with having a healthy appetite?”

  “Nope.” Amusement flashed in his eyes. “I mean, I’ve just never seen anyone eat like that.”

  Pearl clasped her hands on her lap under the table. You’re hovering at a two, dear Winston. “Like what?”

  “Like some zombie out of The Walking Dead.”

  Pearl’s heart beat in her ears. Her blood pressure rose as the insult seeped into her skin.

  Why? Why did her appetite warrant a comment? What an eye-opener it would’ve been for him to sit among her sisters, food aficionados, who dug into food with wild abandon, who could’ve discussed a meal’s play-by-play like it was a World Series game.

  “Don’t get upset! I’m just teasing you.”

  Teasing, my ass. She sucked in a breath at his gaslighting attempt. Her mind clamored for peace. It wasn’t just this date. This date was a representation of the time she was wasting, in her personal life and in her career. Her emotions began to spin like a top, but she caught herself. She envisioned herself in Tadasana, or mountain pose, though she was sitting: eyes ahead, back straight, and shoulders back. Relax the shoulders and breathe.

  As she got into the pose, she felt her power return.

  She took her napkin from her lap and placed it on the table. Leaning to the right, she retrieved her purse hanging from her seat back and pulled out her wallet. In front of her, Winston halted mid-chew, utensils pointed up in the air. Another faux pas that she wouldn’t have even noticed in a good man, but him? He was a caveman, with a mouth to match.

  Pearl had enough good examples of men in her life. Her father. Her uncles. Trenton.

  Had Mari been right? Had Pearl set the bar too high, even in her personal life? Maybe her expectations were skewed. Perhaps only a percentage of good men existed, and they were all married or committed.

  She shook her head.

  Even so.

  She wouldn’t lower her bar. Not in work or in relationships.

  Especially not for Winston.

  “You are officially off my chart. As in, below it.” She slipped three twenty-dollar bills on the table and stood. “I would say thank you for the night, but the only thing I’m thankful for is that I’m going home with a full stomach.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  She laughed. “Duh.” She tugged her jacket from the back of her chair, jazz-handed her goodbye, then headed to the front of the restaurant.

  Upon passing the hostess stand, a tap on the shoulder gave her pause. She heaved a sigh and turned. “Look, Winst—”

  Her words seized in her throat, because the person she turned to was Trenton, wrapped oh-so-perfectly in a double-breasted wool coat. It had been a day since their last yoga class and impromptu late dinner with Daphne and Carter, but his warm smile was a sight for sore eyes. “Oh, hey.”

  “Where are you going in a rush?” He glanced over her shoulder.

  “I was just leaving this ass—” She did her own reconnaissance. Behind him was a woman with straight posture. “I mean, I had a date. You?”

  “Me, too. I mean, I’m on one. Now,” he said, then, as if remembering, pointed at the woman. “Pearl, this is Leighann. Leighann, this is my childhood friend, Pearl.”

  Childhood friend. Right, not girlfriend, real or fake.

  Pearl shook the woman’s hand and appraised her. Firm grip. On-point golden brown and blond highlights. Confident smile. Hazel eyes that sparkled. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Same here.”

  “Well.” She inhaled a deep breath with this double blow to her ego and pasted on a smile. “I had the sauerbraten. I highly recommend it.”

  “And your date?”

  “Him, I would stay away from.” She laughed. “I’ve got to run. Have a great night, you two.”

  Pearl spun on her heel. She ducked through the revolving door of the restaurant, and into the cold night air. It woke her resolve.

  Her personal life might be a mess, but it was time to improve her career.

  In the Uber back, Pearl had gone over her words in her head. She had developed a strategy: First, she would praise the business. Next, she’d glorify Marisol, and then she was going to make her announcement—that she had Daphne and Carter practically in the bag.

  But when Mari opened her apartment door in pajamas, hair held back in a wide headband and face covered in a charcoal mask, Pearl lost all thoughts of shop talk.

  “Hey. So how did it go?” Mari grinned—or it looked like a grin to Pearl—and stepped aside. “Hungry?”

  “I’m still full from dinner. And yeah, the date sucked.” Pearl kicked off her shoes and followed her sister into her kitchen. Mari flipped the lights on, threw the freezer door open, and stuck her head in it.

  “I picked up ube ice cream at Barrio Fiesta while you were at dinner. I know you love it.”

  Pearl thought twice. Purple y
am anything was her favorite, and she would need the sugar reinforcement for what she was going to propose. She nodded, and Mari set about scooping them each a bowlful.

  “Pearl, I was thinking a lot about today.” Her sister re-covered the ice cream carton and licked the side of her palm and passed Pearl her bowl. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. About the bar thing. I didn’t mean it that way. At all. Because you’re damn good at what you do. You were amazing at the expo—you clearly know what you’re doing. The livestream was an excellent idea.”

  “Thanks.” Pearl melted onto the barstool and smiled. “I appreciate that. And I’m kind of relieved because I’ve got some news.”

  “What’s going on?” Concern rang through Mari’s tone.

  “It’s nothing bad.” She half laughed to ease the moment.

  Mari responded with a hesitant smile. “Then why do you look like you’re going to drop a bomb right now?”

  “Well, because it is one.” She stabbed at her ice cream in the bowl. “I mean, not really. The metaphor isn’t right. It’s more like if someone shot a flower cannon and roses were raining on us right now. Scratch that, a dollar-bills cannon.”

  Mari slipped onto a barstool and started on her ice cream. “You’ve got my attention. Pray tell.”

  When it was only the two of them, Pearl felt the heavy truth of their birth order. Without Jane to buffer the space, to fill in their six-year gap, their differences were magnified so Mari was the knowledgeable one, the mature one, the successful one. An incredible temptation existed within Pearl to succumb, to defer to her oldest sister’s wisdom.

  Mari had paved the way for all of them, and Pearl, if she’d chosen it, could have followed in this shadow, could have lived comfortably, and could, truthfully, have had all the advantages without the struggle.

  But she didn’t want easy. She wanted to tear down Mari’s pedestal so they could be on equal ground.

  Though if someone were to ask her how it felt to be under her sister’s appraising gaze, she would have described it in one word: intimidating.

  “Daphne Brown and Carter Ling nuptials. Henceforth known as ‘Bling.’ ”

  An eyebrow shot up.

  Pearl ran with it. “Four hundred guests. Thatched Roof Winery. Full-service from day one to the big day.”

  “They’re looking for full-service?”

  “Better. They have our service.”

  “You’re kidding. You landed them? When? I want all the details. Is the venue already locked in? After the Glynn wedding, I will be absolutely free, though I may need to get Carli to help me until that time. Oh, did you already have her sign the contract—”

  “Ate.” Pearl burst through the barrage of words exiting her sister’s mouth. Her heart had begun to beat the dreadful song, like a civil war drum line leading soldiers to their sure deaths.

  “What?”

  “Bling is mine. Remember? Last week? At Hazel’s dress fitting? You agreed I would keep them if I got them to sign on the bottom line. And well, though it’s not official, yet, I have a verbal. I forwarded her our contract, and she said she would get back to me soon.”

  “Okay, so it’s not completely official yet—let’s hold off on discussing the details. You know these brides, they’ll do their due diligence and research before actually saying yes. Tell me though, how did you do it?”

  Pearl frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, how did you make contact? Did Kayla do the introductions?”

  “Not exactly. We spoke at couples’ yoga. Her wedding came up and I told her I was a wedding planner and I pitched her a theme.” Pride welled up insider her. “I had a little help from Trenton, who instantly bonded with Carter. We had a late dinner last night—like a double date.”

  Mari’s spoon was halfway to her lips. “Couples’ yoga? Trenton, as in Trenton Young?”

  “He was actually filling in for Kayla, but long story short—yes.”

  “So . . .” She narrowed her eyes. “She thinks you and Trenton are a couple.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Pearl shoved the ube ice cream in her mouth. It was delicious. Her sister’s shoulders sagged, a sure sign of what Pearl had been afraid of. Her body tensed. “What is it?”

  “It’s just that we touched on this after the pregnancy spill with Hazel. The relationship between a wedding planner and their client must be built on trust, Pearl. You made contact under false pretenses. It seems like it’s a tiny detail—that you and Trenton are a couple—but you used that to create this bond with her.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I know what I’m doing.” Suddenly her ice cream turned sour on her taste buds. She set down her spoon.

  “Do you, Pearl? Because sometimes I think you totally gloss over the basics. You think you’re above doing what the rules dictate.”

  Pearl’s core shook as anger bubbled up like lava in a volcano. “You’re not going to say that I’m not ready for this. Because I am—you just said so. And I’ve been assisting for years.”

  “And then you do something like this that makes me question where your head is at.” As if detecting Pearl was about to blow, Mari put a hand up. “I don’t want us to fight—I’m bringing up a valid point; it’s something you’ll have to tackle if she comes on board. You have to tell her the truth eventually.”

  It was a cork that stopped Pearl from bursting with frustrated words. Her sister was right in all her points, but it was in the way she said it, in the way she had control over Pearl’s future career. “Just as a point. I’ve done over two dozen coordinated functions on my own. And it’s not easy to come in at the last minute either. My relationship skills are spot-on. I mean, if social media doesn’t test my ability to interact with people on a daily basis, I don’t know what would.” She put up a finger. “I can talk people down from a ledge. I know I’m a little frazzled at times, but in the end, I come through. And I know I messed up with Hazel. I get it. Lesson learned. It won’t happen again. Finally, if Daphne signs with us, she’ll know the truth about me and Trenton.”

  Mari bit her lip. Pearl jumped in with a plea. “I am perfect for this client. In fact, I’m going to leave now, and we’ll go on with the week and do our thing, and you can tell me yes if and when the contract comes in.”

  “Pearl.”

  “Ate Mari.” Pearl’s voice shook. She hated herself for it, but she’d run out of tangible arguments, and the only thing left was her honest-to-God feelings. “You cannot keep holding me back. I want to fly. On my own.” Then, at the surge of emotions from deep inside her, emotions that she’d had to overcome through yoga, she begged, “So don’t make the decision right now, okay?”

  Finally, Mari nodded. “Okay.”

  part three

  There is no rose without thorns.

  —Pam Muñoz Ryan

  eleven

  Mood: “Heart of Glass” by Blondie

  When a top gets married, it is all hands on deck, especially during a spring snowmageddon.

  Mari crossed her arms and shivered at the sight of the snow that had begun to blanket the tops of buildings. Forecasters had predicted a twenty-four-hour snowfall that would end with four to eight inches of accumulation. While the inside of Studio 1900, the penthouse restaurant and event space in an upscale historic hotel in Arlington, was cozy and warm, this didn’t bode well for a smooth wedding afternoon for Jane’s couple, “Rhockenzie.” Maggie Rhodes and Gabriella Mackenzie expected to take the bulk of their photographs outside after the ceremony. Worse, most of their guests were coming from out of town, notably from Florida.

  Jane, next to her, shook her head. “It’s literally freaking March thirty-first—Mother Nature is killing me right now.”

  Mari shook her head, dismayed. “Do you know the status of your couple’s guests, and what’s plan B for the photographs?”

  “Most of their out-of-town guests are staying at this hotel, and a majority of them got here last night for the rehearsal dinner, so we should still expect generally t
he same number of attendees. I’m more worried about the serving staff not getting here. The DJ has yet to arrive.” She glanced at her iPad. “Pearl had an idea to propose regarding the photographs and she should be back soon. Snowfall on Easter weekend. What a mess.”

  “We can only do what we can, right?”

  Jane nodded and heaved a breath. “Right. T-minus an hour before start time. Let’s keep going.” She scrolled up on her iPad. “Follow me to do the final walk-through of the ceremony spaces? Help calm me?”

  “I’m at your disposal. And we can chat while Pearl isn’t here.”

  “Okay?” Jane’s tone lifted at the end of her question. “Is this about giving her a top?”

  Mari hummed a “yes” and followed Jane through the ceremony room. With walls of exposed brick, a large antique fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling windows that brought the outside in, the view of the snowfall would surely be a topic of conversation for days to come.

  The decor the couple had chosen had an old-world aesthetic with a modern twist: hammered copper Moscow mule mugs, rose gold cutlery, contrasted by classic bright white plates and dainty, romantic orchid centerpieces. The jaw-dropping star was the two-tier square cake with white icing, hand-painted with rose gold luster dust. Mari had met the couple briefly months ago. On paper, the vision seemed mismatched. Now, with all the details, it was a masterpiece. And it was all Jane’s doing.

  Mari and Jane were built for this kind of business. Both were mega-focused and uncompromising. Detail oriented. Early. Jane was more gifted in the budget arena, while Mari saw the big picture. They had both become assistants as each graduated from high school, working side by side and absorbing their mother’s lessons when Rings & Roses was a one-woman show, when Regina de la Rosa worked morning till night, seven days a week. When each young woman turned twenty, they’d been promoted to day-of coordinators. At twenty-one, after Jane and Mari graduated from Georgetown and George Washington University respectively, when each had shown the drive and promise, and when Mari was over the hump of her short-term rebellion, they’d been promoted to full-time wedding planners, the business doubling and then tripling in size by the time Jane came on board.