by Tif Marcelo
Meanwhile, Mari’s feet were glued at her doorway. Kayla shot out past her and into the foyer. Mari caught her eyes—they were stricken with anger, with grief. Backing up to the building’s front door, Kayla blindly reached for the knob and stepped out. “I’m sorry for yelling. I have to go.”
A second later, Trenton stepped out and hesitated when he saw Mari. He opened his mouth, then shut it, and instead followed his sister out the door.
When Mari finally entered Jane’s apartment, Pearl was at the kitchen counter, dumbfounded, with tears in her eyes. “I messed up,” she said.
Mari took Pearl in her arms. “It’s okay. We’ve all done our share of that, Pearl. I’m here.”
There was no rest for the ambitious, all right.
As soon as Pearl calmed, Mari’s cell phone rang, and Pearl’s buzzed. It was back to business. Without another word about the debacle between her and Kayla, they both headed out to their respective clients—Pearl to the Gonzalez home, and Mari to Rings & Roses to meet Hazel.
Old Town buzzed with shoppers. The weather had soared to a balmy eighty degrees. This weekend was rumored to be the height of bloom for the cherry blossoms, and the ones in Old Town flourished. Petals drifted in the warm air with every mild gust of wind. A sheen of pollen from oak trees covered the tops of cars.
Hazel was sitting in her parked car half a block away from the shop when Mari arrived. Mari knocked on the passenger-side window and leaned down. Her client was blowing her nose.
Not a good sign. “Hey. Are you okay?”
She got out of the car wearing dark glasses. She shook her head. But instead of Mari inquiring about it, she led the way swiftly to the privacy of the shop. She held the door open for Hazel and stepped into the sunlit foyer. Walking to the back office, Mari asked, “Care for something to drink? Juice? Tea? I have decaf.”
“Tea, please.” Hazel’s voice trailed as Mari filled and turned on the Keurig. “I’m sorry to take you away from your nephew’s party.”
“How’d you know?”
“Reid told me.”
“Ah. It’s fine. We were done, just cleaning up. So, you saved me from it.” Mari grinned, popped a tea pod into the Keurig, and pressed Brew. “How was your weekend?”
“It was okay.” Her voice grew louder, and Mari turned. Hazel was at the break room door, glasses now removed. Her eyes were rimmed in smudged black eyeliner.
Nope, not a good sign at all.
“And how’s the baby?”
This got Mari a smile. Hazel’s hand automatically rested on her belly. “Good. I had an appointment yesterday and everything seems to be going well.”
“Have you decided if you want to know the sex?”
“No, not yet.” Hazel gazed at her through her lashes. “I want to know, but Brad wants the big reveal at the end.”
Mari pressed her lips together into a smile to keep a comment from bursting through. Of course her fiancé would chose to take the opposite stance. He couldn’t just give her what she wished for without a fight.
The tea finished brewing, and Mari loaded their cups and a small jar of cubed sugar and spoons onto a silver tray and turned. “Let’s hang in the lobby, shall we? The shop’s closed for the day. I don’t expect us to be bothered.”
They each took a seat in the upholstered chairs, the silver tray set upon the glass tabletop.
Hazel linked her fingers in her lap. “I texted you because I wanted to discuss a couple of things without Brad, if that’s okay.”
“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.” Mari’s gaze scoured her client’s face. The bells in her inner conscience chimed. Was this the first time a client had wanted to discuss their wishes separately from their partner? No. But in conjunction with what she’d witnessed—Brad’s temper, the way Hazel cowered in his presence, how swiftly she changed her mind when Brad showed displeasure—Mari stilled with dread.
“First. I want to tell you that I’m totally okay with you and Reid.”
The insinuation took a second to sink in. Mari cleared her throat. “Oh, but I wouldn’t—”
Hazel put a hand on Mari’s knee. “He told me today how much he likes you, and I love the idea of you and him. I consider you a friend, and the thought of two of my favorite people coming together . . . I think it’s perfect. I get it—you don’t want it to come between us. You’re a professional through and through. But I need to get it out there that I approve.”
“I . . . I’m stunned.”
“I know. Me, too. My brother has never been this giddy about anyone.” She grinned, but just as quickly, her eyes dimmed. “The second thing—the dress.”
“The dress?”
She bit her lip. “Is it too late to choose another?”
Mari’s hands began to shake on her lap, so she clamped them together. Squeezed. “You want another dress? Why?”
Hazel waved away Mari’s words like she hadn’t pulled the rug from underneath her, but her eyes were glossy and regretful. “It’s so . . . tight and so . . . suggestive, you know?”
“I see.” Mari bit her cheek to silence her conscience that wanted to respond with “No!” She gathered logic like the tendrils of her hair during a windstorm, and reminded herself that this was Hazel’s life. Not hers. Not even her sisters’, where she could’ve meddled.
Think.
From her purse, Hazel retrieved a folded page torn from a bridal magazine. “I was thinking a traditional gown, princess style.”
“We’re a little less than two months away from the wedding.”
“This is what I want.” Hazel shook the page at her; agitation laced her voice.
Mari accepted the page. The dress on the model was beautiful, but it bore no similarity to the first dress Hazel had picked.
This was not okay. She set the page on her lap. “This concerns me. As your wedding planner. As your friend.”
Hazel inched backward in her chair in what Mari knew was a defensive posture. Knowing she could chose to leave at any moment, Mari took a deep breath and said, “This is something I don’t disclose to many, but I was in . . . I mean, in a position in which I was being . . . managed.” Just say it, Marisol. “Emotionally abused.”
“What are you talking about?” She stiffened.
“I want you to know I’m here for you, Hazel.”
“How dare you even assume? I came here for help, not accusations. For the record, Brad and I are perfect.”
Mari kept her voice neutral. “Okay . . .” Seeing that Hazel was a breath away from fleeing, Mari stood and grabbed a Post-it note from the front desk. She scribbled a 1-800 number on it, pulled easily from memory. She peeled the page off and held it out for Hazel to take.
Hazel became a whirlwind, refusing the Post-it, rising from the chair, and backing away. She pushed her sunglasses back onto her face and slung her purse onto her shoulder. “This is preposterous. You are overstepping your bounds. I’m going to go. Forget about all this, the dress, our contract is cancelled, and stay the hell away from my brother.”
“Hazel!” Mari called out, following her out the door. Down the street, Hazel’s car engine growled to life; the running lights flipped on. The car pulled out of the spot, speeding away with the screech of tires.
Seeing her go sent Mari’s physical world spinning. The memory of her own family’s intervention materialized. Her father, mother, and Jane in the living room at five in the morning. They’d waited up for her. She was warm from drink, hair a mess from a night of the drama she’d become addicted to, of having this man who wanted and hated her at the same time. Saul had become her whole world. He’d surprise her with fear or with goodness; the adrenaline and the rush of emotions had been a high.
Mari knew now that the high was fear, but back then, she’d thought that was living. She’d been convinced that no other love would’ve thrilled her as much. She’d believed Saul’s assertion that it was them against the world.
She’d moved out of 2404 Duchess Street that night, fir
st crashing at Saul’s before finally finding that third-floor apartment in Falls Church. All her life, she’d been the frugal type. She’d saved all her paychecks. Despite her partying ways, she’d been a bear of a student, earning a full ride to GW. She was twenty-one, an adult, and obviously around a family that hadn’t wanted to accept the one person she loved.
No, Saul hadn’t asked her to choose, but he didn’t have to. She did it all on her own.
Of course, there had been manipulation and fear, couched in between hot passionate lovemaking and the promise of forever. She paid for it with that horrible night with Pearl.
She was still paying for it. Now her mistake had cost her a top client, the commission of which they were depending on to keep the shop afloat through the summer. First Pearl, the Bling wedding, and now Hazel—these two months had been an open fire hydrant of loss.
Mari entered the shop once again, grabbed her purse, and focused on what she could control, knew that she’d done all she could.
Digging her phone out of her purse as she locked up Rings & Roses, key chain dangling from her thumb, she discovered that she’d received two voicemails and over a dozen texts during her twenty-minute meeting with Hazel. The texts were all from Jane. Each an SOS.
The huge fight between Pearl and Kayla.
Hazel breaking their contract.
Terrible things came in threes.
twenty-five
Mood: “Sunrise, Sunset” by Jerry Bock and lyricist Sheldon Harnick
Pearl dropped her purse and jacket at the door and kicked off her Toms. She kissed her cousin Christina Gonzalez on the cheek. “Hey.”
“Thank God you’re here.” Christina gestured to the right, to the sunken living room, where the rest of the family milled, a couple of heads peeking into the kitchen on the far side. “They both want a divorce.” She rolled her eyes. “This time they said it’s for real.”
“Ah . . . and for what reason?”
“You know my mother had her heart set on their first dance.”
“Yes.”
“Papa backed out. He said that”—she curled her fingers as if quoting—“ ‘It’s our fortieth anniversary. I’ve earned my choice.’ ”
“Oh dear.” Pearl stepped down into the living room, parting the crowd like Moses parted the Red Sea. The quiet murmuring added to the loud argument in the kitchen, and with it the aftermath of her own day fell away. There would be time to go after Kayla, time to fix things with Trenton. David and Imelda Gonzales had a fortieth wedding anniversary next Sunday with two hundred guests attending, and it would be ideal for them to still be married. Right now, Pearl had to fix this.
The Gonzales family were not blood relatives, but their clans were entwined in the way people of the same culture gravitated toward one another, with ferocity and loyalty. Pearl called Christina her cousin; she considered Christina’s parents her aunt and uncle. Hence, Rings & Roses had agreed to provide day-of coordination for this party at half the service cost, arranged pretransfer of ownership. Otherwise, Pearl would’ve charged them double—they had been so high-maintenance.
She walked into the brightly lit kitchen, in the midst of what looked like lunch cleanup. One was accusing of the other of smashing their dreams.
“Finally. You can talk some sense into this man.” Imelda smacked the air with her hand.
David’s arms were crossed and rested on his tummy that poked out from his short-sleeve dress shirt. “I’m the one with sense. Who wants to watch us dance anyway? It’s overrated.”
“This is my wedding!”
“It’s mine, too. You get everything you want. See this house? And the furniture, and your precious Mercedes MLK with white leather seats that stick to my legs in the summertime? All I want is no dancing.”
“I don’t care about the Mercedes. Take the Mercedes. The dance is more important to me.”
“You choose the dance over the Mercedes?” He laughed, then caught himself. “No. Absolutely not.”
“That’s enough.” Pearl shot a hand out to each side of the room. “I’ve about had it with the both of you. First of all, this is not a wedding. This is a vow renewal.”
The crowd in the other room gasped. Nice. Thanks for helping out, people. “Which means you are already married, and there’s no way you’re allowed a divorce, else there won’t be a party.”
The two seemed to put away their claws, and she gestured for each of them to take a seat. They both sank into breakfast table chairs across the room from each other. Imelda refused to look at her husband.
Pearl brought an empty chair, set it next to Imelda, and gestured for David to take it. After a huff, he moved to her side.
Pearl swore under her breath. It didn’t matter how old couples were, when it came to planning something so close to their heart, they held on tight to their wishes.
She perched on the breakfast table. “What happened today?”
Imelda jumped in. “After months of not caring, suddenly, he thinks he gets to have a say. The party is in a week!”
He growled. “How can I care if I’m not informed of the plans?”
Pearl eyed the man. “Is that true? I think half the family knew the plans.”
He looked sheepish. “Well . . . but . . . I was hoping she’d listen to me. I said all along that I hate to dance.”
Imelda raised a finger. “That’s not true. Today with the karaoke—”
“That’s different. It wasn’t in front of everyone everyone,” he gruffed. “And another thing. I hate the song ‘At Last.’ ”
“I see. Tita, would you consider changing that song?” Pearl asked.
“No.”
Her gaze darted between the two. The frustration came off them in waves. They were at a standstill, much more than they’d been the last few weeks. Pearl had since employed all the tactics: logic, being understanding; she’d done her share of pleading. She only had one last card to pull, a card she’d never thrown faceup into a ring before, a card her mother had thrown once and won, at a wedding she was so sick of planning because the families were contentious. Her mother had been willing to lose the entire account. Pearl had watched from the sidelines as it all unfolded in their mother’s office like the quarterback’s Hail Mary throw in the final seconds of a Super Bowl game, in painful slow motion. Luckily, her mother had won.
Pearl lowered her hands, shoulders sagging. “Fine, then. I’m done.”
“What?” the two asked, first glancing at each other, and then at her.
She made a commotion of fixing her hair back up into a bun, as if she herself was in the fight. “I’m not here to make you want to walk down the aisle again. If this was your wedding, I might’ve stuck this out, considered that maybe you were making the wrong decision, but you are two grown individuals—I mean, you’re retired! You both want the same things. You both want this party. You want to celebrate, and yet you continue to argue. I can coordinate, I can plan for contingencies, but I can’t make you see what is so obvious to all of us. That you love each other, that you’re committed. Shouldn’t that be enough to set all these little things aside?” She planted a kiss on each of their cheeks, her words catching up with her. Her eyes watered at her mistake, at her horrible judgment. How could she have even doubted that she wanted Trenton? How had she let fear drive her actions?
She had to call him. But first . . . “I love you both. You know that. I also respect you. But maybe I’m not the woman for this job.”
Her aunt’s face skewed in pain. “Iha.”
Pearl’s heart leapt at the small victory but she kept up her charade. “It’s clear you aren’t happy, and I’m at my wit’s end. I’m not sure what more I can do.” She moved toward the doorway. “I’m going to forward your contract to Ate Mari.”
She stepped into the living room and was met by a shocked crowd. Christina emerged from it with widened eyes. “What the f—”
Pearl stopped her with a hand on her elbow and directed her to the front door, away
from the discerning ears of the others. “Don’t worry.”
“But—”
“They should come to their senses soon.” She unzipped her purse and took her keys and phone out. A message flashed on the screen.
Mari: Need you at Alexandria General SOS.
Pearl’s voice choked. “Or, hopefully, anyway. Look, I’ve got to go, but I’ll keep my phone on me. Text me to update. Okay?”
“Okay.” Christina’s voice was tenuous, trailing behind her as Pearl scrambled to put on her shoes. “Sorry, for grabbing you out of Pio’s party to deal with a couple of wannabe teenagers.”
She hugged her cousin. “Hey. It’s what family’s for. No judgment. Love you.”
But as soon as Pearl stepped out from under the home’s covered porch, her mind was already on Mari’s texts.
Mari never sent SOSs.
Damn this Volvo without Bluetooth capability—Pearl couldn’t check her phone as it beeped. She couldn’t call Trenton to beg for him to hang on, to not give up on her. Couldn’t text Kayla and ask for forgiveness. Her eyes solely on the road, she swerved through the busy streets to Alexandria General Hospital. Her thought: Pio, and his need to get on high structures. Did he fall off the monkey bars? Did he break an arm? He had nine lives, that kid, but he had the attention span of a pup.
She streaked through the hospital valet driveway. A pretty penny to pay, but she couldn’t think, much less park. She threw the attendant the keys.
Finally, she checked her texts, all from Mari.
Jane’s in the ER. Pio is with one of his friends.
Where are you? We’re moving up to the ward.
nvm. I’ll meet you in the lobby.
Drive safely.
Sure enough, when the hospital’s automatic doors opened, Mari was on the other side. Her face was taut—worry was never one of Mari’s emotions. She was serious or stressed or triumphant. Never worried.
“Ate Mari.” Pearl’s voice shook.
“Don’t cry.” She enveloped Pearl in a hug. “She’s okay for now. C’mon. It’s a ways to her room.”