by Tif Marcelo
This decision, however, was now biting her in the butt. Pearl had quickly realized Carli just didn’t have the experience or the foresight to manage the moving parts of an outdoor, public wedding. Pearl ran around, flustered, keeping the ceremony space clear as the limos with the wedding party circled the parking lots to find a nearby appropriate place to stop among the tour buses that lined the streets.
The couple’s permit only allowed two hours’ time on the west lawn of the Jefferson Memorial, and they would need every second. Unlike a dedicated space where the background was ceremony and picture ready, a tourist spot begged to be prepped. The bulk of Pearl and Carli’s job today was crowd control. Most tourists were empathetic and understanding. Others? It spurred them to act inappropriately.
Finally, the wedding party arrived; the bride’s party ahead of the groom’s. To Pearl’s horror, Tonia was in tears, in contrast to her festive crystal-encrusted sleeveless trumpet-style dress, and flanked by her bridesmaids. Ken and his groomsmen milled in the background, among their parents and close friends, wary and worried. Tonia held up her shoes. One was missing a heel.
Pearl took the shoes from the bride. The maid of honor handed her the broken heel. “Holy shit.” She winced. “Excuse my language. I’m sorry.”
“No worries, I cursed way more coming out of the limo. What are we going to do? I refuse to go barefoot.”
“Superglue?” Carli offered.
“Nope. Too dangerous.” Pearl chewed on her cheek, thinking, looking out onto the droves of people around the Tidal Basin. What would the chances be that someone out there had an extra shoe? Then, a thought came to her. “Extra shoes. Carli!”
“I’m right behind you.”
“Grab my tote,” she said, then called over all the women in the group. Eight came forward. “Let’s go down the line and tell me what your shoe sizes are.”
Each woman called out their size. None were the bride’s 81/2. But Pearl didn’t dismay—this had happened once when she and her sisters took a trip to Vegas. Jane had forgotten another cocktail dress for their final night. They’d switched dresses until something fit just enough.
Carli handed off Pearl’s tote, where she retrieved ballet flats. Pearl grinned. “A must for every wedding planner who can’t handle heels for too long. To be honest, I’d rather run around barefoot.” She took off her chunky-heeled pumps. After slipping on the ballet flats, she raised her shoes in the air. “So what I’m going to ask is unconventional but necessary for this next hour. You don’t have to participate if you don’t want to. No pressure. But who here has a size 71/2 they’d be willing to trade with my black size 7 shoe?”
Beats passed. Just when Mari started to lose hope, Ken’s grandma raised her hand. “Me. I’m dying to get out of these heels. I’m closer to a 7 than I am to a 71/2 anyway.” She removed her beige size 71/2 heels.
“Great. Step one is complete. Now I need someone who’s a size 8 who’s willing to wear a 71/2 heel.”
“Oh, that’s easy. Me.” A bridesmaid raised her hand. “I got this shoe online and the size is completely off. I didn’t have time to return it. But is it okay for me to wear beige and not this pale pink like everyone else?”
“Absolutely.” She exchanged shoes with the bridesmaid. “Your dresses are long enough to cover them during pictures. Now is there anyone with a size 9?”
The maid of honor raised her hand. “I have a 9. I’m willing to wear that 8, though, if necessary.”
“Okay. Let’s see if this size 8 will do first.” Pearl took a knee in front of Tonia. “Care to try it on?”
With a face full of hope, Tonia tucked her foot into the shoe. Pearl could have heard a pin drop as she worked the shoe around the back, to her heel. And like Cinderella’s glass slipper, the shoe fit like a glove, albeit a snug one.
“Now that is a happily ever after if I ever heard one.” Kayla bumped her hot chocolate to-go cup against Pearl’s as they walked down Burg Street. It was 8:00 p.m., but the sun was still out—the only good thing about daylight savings. They’d shared a lasagna for two at Leonardo’s and thought to do a lap up and down the street to walk off their full bellies.
“If only the rest of the day had gone more smoothly.” Pearl took a sip and hissed when the hot chocolate scalded her tongue. “It was a bear getting everyone back to the reception, and catering wasn’t ready for us. They scrambled at the last minute to get hors d’oeuvres out on time. Luckily I’d earned enough props at the wedding that my couple wasn’t too bothered by it.”
“Because you’re magic. I just don’t get why Mari’s so against you getting a top.”
“It’s not just Mari; it’s Jane, too. They think Bling is too big of a client. They think I need a mentor.”
“Did they have mentors?”
Pearl thought about it. “I mean, yeah. My mom. But that was different. My mother is my mother, and there’s no arguing with that . . . that authority. And when my sisters got into full-time planning, they were younger than me, early twenties. I’m officially over the quarter-life mark. My resume is way more extensive.” She looked askance at her friend. “Why? Do you think I need mentoring, too?”
A group of teenagers gaggled in their direction, coming between Pearl and Kayla. Once they were back side by side, Kayla said, “Look, I’m not one to give you that kind of advice or suggestion. I’m not in your business. But in medicine? Even the most skilled surgeons are accompanied during an extensive case. It’s not about being alone and being the best. It’s about the health of the patient, or in your case, the happily ever after, right?”
“I guess.”
“Have you told Daphne and Carter?”
“No, because my sister and I kind of left things hanging. But I need to, soon.”
Kayla clucked. “What a mess.”
“Yeah.” She sipped her drink. “Enough about me. How are you?”
“Same stuff, different day. Work, sleep, rinse, repeat. Waiting for Trenton to move out so that sleep part can include a certain man named Calvin. This having him go home after every date is for the birds.”
Bringing up Trenton sent tingles through Pearl, but she steadied her voice. “He won’t let you have your man over?”
She shook her head. “I’m the one not allowing it. I can’t handle the idea of my boyfriend walking around in his underwear with my twin in the next room. No way. No how. Anyway, I’ve missed you.” She linked her arm with Pearl’s. “I still think it’s hilarious that you and my brother are fake dating.”
There went another delicious twinge traveling through her body. “I credit him for this big account. Carter loves him.”
“I mean, have you had to hold his hand?” She held a palm up. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. Gross!”
“What, you don’t think your brother is dateable?”
“Pearl. Seriously? The man farts, okay? And he spills globs of toothpaste in my sink and doesn’t wipe it up, ever. But anyway, you guys are like siblings. That’s just weird.” She sighed, pushing a stray curly bang out of her face. “This adulting business is for the birds, too—my social life is the pits.”
Grateful for the change of subject, Pearl said, “Yeah, if only we didn’t have to make money to eat.”
“Or drink hot chocolate.”
“Or buy shoes.” Pearl laughed and came upon the corner building that would soon become Heartfully Yours. Pearl paused at the window, curiosity drawing her closer. She hiked a hand over her eyes to block out the sun and leaned in. Shelving and racks were bunched in the middle of the room.
“I wonder how they’re going to set it up. Will they have dresses, too?” Pearl said, more to herself.
The shop’s green front door swung open and Pearl jumped back from the window. A blond woman stepped out wearing an apron; she had her hair up in a bun. “Why, hello!”
Pearl recognized her from the expo, and the need to get out of there tugged at her ear. This was traitorous for them to be speaking to Heartfully Yours, so sh
e murmured a haphazard, “Hi,” and tried to speed past.
“You’re Pearl de la Rosa, right?” the woman said, tucking her hands in her apron pocket.
“She is.” Kayla stepped in because she was way more fearless than Pearl ever was.
“Great work today at the Tidal Basin.”
Kayla shot Pearl a look. Pearl found her voice. “Oh?”
“Yeah, the video circulated around. A tourist caught you while you all were switching out your shoes.” She pulled out a business card. “I’m Wendy Salazar, the owner of Heartfully Yours. We’re a small shop. Just me, an assistant planner, and a part-time manager. I know it’s a long shot, and it’s probably totally unethical, but what the hell, you’re right here. I heard you might be up to freelance.”
Pearl’s face went hot. “Wh . . . where’d you hear that?”
“You know . . . word gets around.” She grinned. “Actually, it was from the mouth of a potential customer—she said she heard it while at your shop.”
Pearl froze, unable to form words or thoughts.
“Well, thank you, and nice to meet you, Wendy.” Kayla took her card and guided Pearl by the elbow down the street, toward home. “We’re going to look for that video online. Holy shit, Pearl. What the hell was that?”
Pearl said the first thing that came to her mind. “That was someone who wants me.”
fifteen
Mood: “You Dropped a Bomb on Me” by The Gap Band
Mari turned the key to lock up Rings & Roses and jingled the doorknob for good measure. It was an early Saturday night for her—the shop, usually closed on Saturdays, was especially quiet without the crew. Pearl had wrapped up her wedding and was out with Kayla, and Jane had called it a sick day and didn’t step into the office. It had given Mari the time to catch up on administrative work. And it allowed her some alone time to think.
She and Pearl had to make up. It was necessary. Their fight on Tuesday had gone too far. She’d decided: tonight she would apologize and somehow find the middle ground in their negotiation. Compromise was the bedrock of weddings, of marriages, of every relationship, and the de la Rosa sisters only had each other. She’d missed Pearl during their last four days of radio silence.
As usual, she took her time on her walk and enjoyed the sixty-degree day. The sidewalks were especially crowded. Locals had donned their shorts and T-shirts—it was a heat wave compared to last weekend.
A text pinged, and Mari viewed a message from Jane: Click on this video!
The link went straight to someone’s Facebook page. The caption: J.Lo move over, this is the real wedding planner.
The still was of Pearl across from a line of women: a bride, three bridesmaids, and their wedding party. Behind them was a large, blooming cherry tree.
“What the heck?” Mari clicked on the Play button, and the video came to life. The scene played out with Pearl switching shoes, one for the other until the bride had a pair to wear. The conclusion brought the bridal party to a rip-roaring cheer, including the person who took the video.
“Yessss,” Mari heard herself say. Way to go. She was going to tackle her sister to the ground with a hug. Not only for her creativity, but because she’d given them some publicity. She texted Jane back: OMG! Did we boost this on social media?
Jane: Not yet, and I feel too gross to act chipper online. Post it. Don’t think Pearl has seen it.
Sure enough, after Mari found a sidewalk bench to park herself on and clicked on their Facebook page, she discovered Pearl hadn’t yet posted.
No time like the present. While Pearl had been meticulous about curating their social media schedule, message, and branding, she’d never ruled that the other sisters couldn’t help out. And really, as much as it had been an ordeal to set up their page, the rest was easy, in Mari’s opinion.
Mari copied the link of the video and pasted it into the Facebook page, then added a caption: One of our own solving a crisis. #switchinghoes. She tapped on Post.
There. That was sure to bring in some attention.
But as she stood and crossed over to Mary Street, passing a family who’d taken up the whole sidewalk, something else caught her attention: her baby sister speaking to someone in a Heartfully Yours apron.
Bright and early the next morning, Mari spun a red light bulb into the Rings & Roses front porch light fixture. On the way down the ladder, she pressed a palm-sized Washington Nationals static cling on the window.
“Thought I’d find you here,” Jane said, then coughed and sneezed. Correction, that sound was no mere cough or sneeze, it was a monster’s howl that had Mari cackling. “Not funny. I can’t seem to kick this illness.”
“Did you take your meds?”
She nodded, clearing her throat. “I’ve been. Both the steroids and the antibiotics.” She promptly squeezed a dollop of hand sanitizer on her palms, the prepared mom she was. “You’re changing the subject. I knocked on your door last night but you didn’t answer. What are you up to?”
“Nothing. Thought I’d spend today doing some building maintenance, and supporting our Nationals, of course.” Mari wiped her hands on the front of her apron, then tucked them into the pockets of her zip-up hoodie all to avoid Jane’s appraisal. What she’d wanted was out of the building, to avoid running into Pearl. “Which reminds me. We have to make sure we grab tickets for the home game against the Cubs.”
“I’ve already told Pio’s teachers that he won’t be at school that day. Although, we’re all going together, right?” All meaning the sisters and Pio. They had been season ticket holders the last eight years or so. But since her parents had left, collectively, the sisters had decided a home game against Pio’s favorite team, the Cubs—though it was a mystery as to why—would suffice.
“Of course we are. Why wouldn’t we?” Mari collapsed the ladder and, with Jane following behind, maneuvered it into the shop and to the back storage room. The metal was unwieldy, and it clanged against the doorway. She hoped the sound camouflaged the doubt screaming within her.
Would they still hang as a family? Pearl hadn’t exactly been speaking to Mari. And with the new development of seeing her with the Heartfully Yours owner—she didn’t know what to surmise. Last night, her mind had run the gamut of reasons, all the way to the assumption that Pearl would leave Rings & Roses for their competition. Which was a preposterous idea. Right?
Pushing it out of her brain, Mari asked, “So why did you need me last night?”
Jane laughed, shaking her head. “Did you even check back on your post last night on Facebook?”
“Nope. Why?”
“Because! Oh my God.” Jane pulled out her phone. “I took a screenshot.”
Mari glanced at the screen. “I don’t get it. I posted the video.”
She shook the phone. “Look at the hashtag.”
“Switching shoes.”
“No, you wrote”—her voice dropped to a whisper—“switching . . .”
“What?”
She whispered it a second time. Then, exasperated at Mari’s confused expression yelled, “Switching hoes!”
Mari’s hand flew to her neck. “No I didn’t.” She grabbed the phone, reread her post, her stomach bottoming out at her obvious typo. “Oh God, I did.”
Pearl put a hand on her arm. “No worries. Pearl caught it and changed it just as the first of the comments came in.”
“Why didn’t she text me?” When Jane didn’t respond, Mari raised her eyes to her. Handed her the phone. “Of course she wouldn’t.”
“See why I’m worried about the two of you not making up? This isn’t right, this fight. Anyway, this morning I had to get some sun and air. Luckily our sister took Pio for some auntie time.”
“It’s not as if I want us to be fighting, Jane.” Mari grabbed a screwdriver, and while passing her planner, she flipped it from Seasonal Checklist to the To-Fix Checklist. She went to the front door and screwed the hinges in until they were nice and tight. “She wants to go. And honestly, I’m insulte
d.”
She nodded. “I admit I’m still pretty shocked.”
“Yeah.” Mari bit her lip at the memory of the escalation of their discussion. It went from what she thought was a negotiation to a full-on ultimatum. Were the sisters so unimportant to Pearl that she hadn’t cared to warn them of her unhappiness? And then her interaction with Heartfully Yours . . . “It came out of left field.” She thought about telling Jane what she’d witnessed, but decided to wait.
She’d confront Pearl first. It was foolish to jump to conclusions with something as neutral as Pearl speaking to the competition. There was no law about communication; there was no standing rule about their boundaries.
Jane’s attention zipped away to the front window, to a child holding his father’s hand. “I should keep walking, get my sun in.” She hacked a protracted cough. “To be honest, I’ve been on edge lately. Pio is at a . . . tricky age.”
Mari nodded. Pio was having a bit of a time without his grandparents. He looked to his lolo as a father figure.
“And with his party next Sunday . . . well, he keeps asking for his father as his birthday present.”
Mari choked out a laugh. “What? What do you tell him?”
“As little as possible. I try to weasel my way out of the conversation by bribing him with a toy or ice cream. How do you explain his sperm donor doesn’t want anything to do with him? Daddy not being here makes it worse. Pio has no one else to distract him.”
Jane’s ex had earned the Lifetime Jerk award. Marco Padilla had been her college love affair. Their meet-cute had been all too romantic: two hearts brought together while working at a theater production company. He was a theater major; she the finance major brought on to do the production’s accounting. It was their last year of school. They’d all thought it’d been love. But he’d ghosted her before she found out she was pregnant right before graduation, only for him to emerge as an off-Broadway actor. Jane had tried to connect with him, to no avail. She still carried the heartache. It didn’t help that Pio was the spitting image of his father.