by Laura Briggs
“What do you want instead?” Tessa asked.
Paolo paused. “I honestly don’t know,” he said, leaning against the light post. “We can’t afford much. I suppose a small ceremony at a church. Maybe a few friends stopping by for cake at Gran’s place. If Molly has a white dress and we hire a limo for a few hours, maybe Gran will be happy. And me and Molly will be married, which is what we both want most.”
It didn’t sound like his dream wedding to Tessa. But then, maybe Paolo really didn’t care about the details so long as he was marrying Molly. He was only afraid that Bianca would be upset if he and Molly held onto their realistic expectations.
“I don’t know how much of your grandmother’s mind can be changed,” said Tessa. “But I’ll try. We’ll all do our best to make Molly and Bianca happy without spending your grandmother’s life savings. Maybe we can find something besides expensive lounges and flowers, anyway.” She smiled.
Paolo’s features relaxed. “Thanks,” he said. “Anything you could do would really help us out.” He smiled at her, as his cell phone beeped with a text message.
“My office,” he said, checking the screen. “I have to go. But I’m glad we talked. I couldn’t bear the thought of Gran leasing that lounge for the big day, or insisting on that giant cake Mr. Ellingham likes.”
“Trust me, he’s not really that keen on the cake,” said Tessa, knowing Blake had no intention of endorsing the sugar doves and roses motif Bianca had shown them. “He’ll be happy to forget it.”
“Good,” said Paolo. “Thanks again—Tessa.” He hurried to catch the next train, leaving Tessa to ponder the promise she had just made. How easy would it be to make Bianca see this was what Paolo truly wanted? Especially since she was fairly sure it was more a matter of what Paolo didn’t want than anything else… namely, to save his grandmother from spending her final years bankrupt.
The biggest problem of all was that Paolo technically wasn’t really her client. It was Bianca who was paying for their services, and that was the person whose wishes she had just promised to sabotage, unless she could find a compromise between the two sides.
* * *
“We need a new game plan,” said Tessa. “We need to find a way to make this wedding special without emptying Bianca’s bank account.”
“How?” said Natalie. “Cancel the ceremony and have her grandkids elope?”
“Be serious,” said Tessa, who didn’t laugh because Paolo’s story was in her thoughts. “It won’t be easy to persuade her to look past the big and shiny when it comes to the wedding and reception, but I think it’s possible. And it will take all of us to do it. Please, we have to try—for Paolo and Molly’s sake at least. They’ll never enjoy their big day knowing that it cost Bianca almost everything to give it to them. It’ll be meaningless to them, and that’s the last thing Paolo’s grandmother would want.”
“We’ve known this since the beginning, though,” said Natalie. “Why bring it up now, Tess?”
“Because Paolo asked me to help him,” said Tessa. “He sees what Bianca has in mind, and it’s not something he and Molly can let happen. He told me that Bianca regrets that the weddings in their family’s past were always small and understated—no traditions, no family or friends gathered, no real celebrations—and that’s why she’s so desperate to make his and Molly’s the opposite. So I promised him that we would help fix it.”
“So we have to find a way to make the wedding truly special,” said Ama. “Something that will be memorable for the right reasons?”
“Exactly,” said Tessa. “This isn’t just about Bianca’s regrets from the past—this is about Molly and Paolo turning a new page in their lives. It needs to be about them—their past, their future.”
“Maybe we need to find a way to create traditions,” suggested Natalie. “Make it feel as if we’re including things which belonged to their families. Maybe that would help Bianca feel better about her family’s past, and give Molly and Paolo something to connect with for their kids’ weddings someday.”
“First, though, we have to agree to keep the spending costs low,” said Tessa. “Anything that we help them choose has to be affordable, so no one in this family loses their money.”
“First order of business for me—keep Bianca from putting a deposit on that dress,” said Natalie firmly.
“For me, it’s persuading Bianca not to choose the NiteLite Lounge,” said Tessa. “There must be a less pricey venue I can show her instead. And the photographer—I’ll take care of that, too.”
“I can take a look at the florist options,” Natalie offered. That was awfully generous of her, Tessa thought, given Natalie’s warnings about not wanting to “fluff flowers” for clients. “The one Bianca’s friend recommended is probably way out of her price league.”
“There’s always a chapel for the ceremony,” said Ama. “But if they want a special spot outside, maybe we can find an inexpensive outdoor location. A park or a public garden that will let a small crowd be present with the right permits.”
“Great,” said Tessa, jotting these suggestions down. “I’ll pull together ideas for Irish and Italian traditions for the wedding—food, decor, ceremonial aspects, wedding favors. We’ll find out what kind of music they like and see if we can find a local musician who’s affordable.”
“And I’ll see about catering,” said Natalie. “Again, lots of contacts in the restaurant world.”
“Shouldn’t that be more Ama’s specialty?” Tessa wondered out loud. “After all, her family does own a restaurant.” Of course, bakers would probably have catering connections too, Tessa knew. Technically, Tessa herself could have handled the catering decision, and flowers were her favorite part of planning a wedding, but right now they needed to divide and conquer to come up with a swift counterplan to Bianca’s.
“Not unless the bride and groom want Indian food at the wedding,” answered Ama. “I know a nice Bengali restaurant that caters,” she added jokingly.
“What about the cake?” said Tessa. “How are your plans for it coming along?”
“I’m working on steering her away from the giant sugar doves,” said Ama. “I’m really hoping I can think of something unique… but it’s not easy.” She bit the eraser on her pencil as she gazed down at her latest sketch, which featured a small wedding cake decorated with French motifs. “It would help if we had the wedding’s theme locked down, maybe. I could draw inspiration from it.”
“Heritage, traditions, and new beginnings,” said Natalie. “That’s what it’s all about, right? Different cultures coming together, building a future. Paolo and Molly come from different backgrounds, but they’re building a life together with pieces of those pasts. That deserves celebration.”
“But what would Bianca say?” said Ama. “She sounded less than excited about exploring her family’s cultural past.”
“This has to impress her,” said Tessa. “We have to give it one hundred percent so we can amaze her without the usual pricey choices. We have to show her what she truly wants in this wedding—something unique and meaningful that Molly and Paolo can pass down to the next generation.” She glanced from one partner to the other. “We’re all on board with this plan, right?”
“I am,” said Natalie.
“Me, too,” said Ama. “Operation Wedding Surprise, here we come.”
“Wedding what?” echoed Natalie.
“You heard me. I think it fits,” said Ama.
“Come up with a better title than that, will you?” Natalie said to Tessa.
Grinning, Ama tucked her latest cake designs back inside her tote bag, while Tessa checked her phone for new business texts. The baker rose to retreat to her kitchen and her sketches, with Natalie catching up to her in the hall, carrying a flat gift box that she had stowed out of sight when she first arrived.
She held it out to Ama. “This is just… well, something I thought you might like,” she said offhandedly. “Something I didn’t have a use for, but thought maybe
you would.” She shrugged to convey that it was totally fine if she didn’t.
“What is it?” Ama wore a curious smile as she untied the ribbon holding the lid closed. “Something new for the kitchen? I have a lot of empty shelf space in there still, I know…”
She trailed off at the sight of the garment tucked beneath the layer of tissue paper. She pulled it out, unfurling its candy-stripe fabric to reveal a knee-length spread skirt and sleeveless, ruched blouse. Little vintage, enamel heart-shaped buttons in pale pink cinched either side of the waist to complete a cute, breezy summer style that someone like Ama would pull off effortlessly.
“This is adorable,” Ama told her, admiration in her voice as she held the garment in front of her. “Is it vintage? It can’t be, it’s too perfect and new-feeling. Did you make this?” She lifted her gaze with astonishment.
“I did,” Natalie admitted. “A while ago, actually. I found it among some finished projects when I was cleaning out my space at Kandace’s shop and thought it would suit you really well. If you like it, that is,” she added, with another casual shrug.
“It’s definitely my style,” Ama said, holding the dress against her now, as she smoothed the skirt with one hand. “It’s gorgeous. I love it. And look—I think it’s the perfect size too.”
“Lucky, huh?” Pink invaded Natalie’s features with this compliment for her work. “It’s nothing special, really, but I’m glad you like it.”
A scoffing sound from Tessa, who was behind them on the stairs. “Don’t listen to her. She’s actually very talented despite her best efforts to convince everyone she knows otherwise.”
“I can tell,” said Ama, grinning as she folded the dress carefully back into its box.
“It’s just one outfit,” Natalie protested. “It’s a simple, basic pattern. Hardly proof that I’m some design genius.”
“Yeah, but what about the pieces you make for your own wardrobe?” Tessa challenged. “You’ve gotten plenty of compliments for those in the past. In fact, you made what you’re wearing right now, didn’t you?”
She pointed to Natalie’s current ensemble: a chiffon dress in a vintage cocktail cut, with a hint of shimmer in the dark gray fabric that kept it from being too conservative for the designer’s tastes. Ruching on one of its three-quarter sleeves gave it a sophisticated air, while the matching jacket hanging upstairs in Natalie’s office would dress it down for the job interview she had that afternoon. If she could land even some part-time work somewhere, it would help keep their new business afloat without confining her to the kitchen at her family’s bakery to earn extra cash.
“You made that too?” Ama was amazed. “Natalie, you really are a design genius. You have to design Molly’s bridal gown,” she told her, as if it were the obvious conclusion.
“What? No, that… is not happening at this juncture.” Natalie laughed. “Our first client deserves a gown made by a professional—and Bianca definitely wants her to have the best one possible. Not the work of an amateur whose designs have barely seen the light of day.”
“Again, exaggeration,” countered Tessa. “You’re wearing your own clothes, Nat. So is half your family, probably. Me? I have two dresses you’ve sewn, including one so drop-dead gorgeous that I will probably keep it forever.”
“I’m making the wedding cake and I’m not a professional baker,” Ama pointed out.
“I’ve never been a professional planner, but I’m coordinating this event down to the last dime we spend for it,” Tessa added. “What gets you off the creative hook, may I ask?” She folded her arms, a stubborn gleam of challenge in the stare she leveled at her longtime friend—one that shook a little of Natalie’s resolve, judging from the way her cheeks went from pink to pale.
“Let’s compromise,” Natalie said. “I’ll design a mother-of-the-bride dress for Bianca instead. Bianca would look lovely in silk, don’t you think? I’m picturing an ankle-length gown with sleeves in a semi-transparent lace… a sort of tapered princess dress, only with modern touches of elegance.”
“Isn’t that technically the ‘grandmother-of-the-groom’ dress?” Ama asked. “But it sounds gorgeous, anyway. Bianca is bound to love anything with ‘princess’ in the design name—although, I think she would rather it was a bridal gown for Molly.”
Natalie shook her head. “What did I say? Limited couture for this wedding. Maybe next time will be different. Who knows? Our second client might need bridesmaids’ dresses, for instance. No one expects those to be perfect, right? Anything less than hideous will qualify. I can definitely handle that.”
Both her partners rolled their eyes at Natalie’s words. “Now, I better run if I want a chance of finding gainful employment anytime soon,” said Natalie, retreating upstairs to fetch her jacket and purse. “Wish me luck, ladies—if I land one of these, we might be able to pay off our debts to a certain handyman after all.”
Thirteen
“It’s just for a quick session,” Tessa whispered, as she steered the handyman along the flower stall’s aisles. Row after row of hot pink tulips, rose-colored buds, and bright, cheery daisies nodded in the breeze. “We just need to get some samples for the bouquet selection. Natalie’s hunting for a florist, and I want to be able to give them some idea of what they’re doing before we hire them.”
“You said you would keep me in the background,” Blake whispered back. “And by the way, are you sure about your friend Natalie being a fashion expert?” He gestured toward his outfit—donned under protest back at Wedding Belles’ headquarters an hour earlier.
“Sure she is. That’s what fashionable men are wearing these days, okay?” She glanced behind her, seeing a grimace of apology on Natalie’s face once again.
“Sorry,” Natalie whispered to her. “It was all that was in his size at the warehouse, I swear. It was this or a white tuxedo.”
Instead of a suit, Blake was wearing an ill-fitting pair of electric-blue slacks, a yellow polo-style shirt that looked one size too small, and a fluffy white cardigan tied around his shoulders—the best Natalie could do on short notice for this last-minute outing, cobbling together the most casual garments from the warehouse’s storage racks and from a box of items that Kandace was “repurposing” in her work. But Blake couldn’t wear his flannel and denim, they had reasoned, and since he was out buying building supplies at the time, they couldn’t ask to raid his home wardrobe for alternative clothes.
“You look very hip and modern. Exactly like Bianca and Molly would expect a top-notch wedding planner to look.”
“I feel like a moron,” he answered.
She could agree that he probably did. She, too, preferred his work clothes to this outfit, but it would have to do for today. Even Bianca would have noticed something out of line with a sophisticated wedding planner in faded Levi’s and a tool belt.
She stopped to examine a bright florist’s bucket packed with freesias in bloom. “Don’t worry. All we have to do is take some photos of flowers and figure out which ones will make Molly happy. You’ll be back to electrical wiring in no time.” She hadn’t told him about the plan to keep the floral costs as low as possible, although that was implied by the very existence of Bianca’s tin-box fund.
Remember to smile, Tessa willed the contractor silently. He did—although it looked as awkward as he probably felt at this moment. They should have found another wardrobe option, Tessa thought. Didn’t Blake say he owned a suit? Or two? Would that be overkill for an outdoor floral stand?
“So many flowers,” declared Bianca, who was hovering in front of a display of extremely costly long-stem roses. “How do you choose?”
“Very carefully,” said Tessa. “And with Molly’s favorites in mind.” She glanced at the bride.
“I don’t have a favorite, really,” said Molly. “I think of colors more than types. I’m pretty much a mixed bouquet kind of person when I buy them at the market. Paolo always brings me roses… but I think he picks them out because they’re traditional to give to th
e woman you love, and he wants to pick the most special bouquet in the shop.”
“You deserve it,” said Bianca, squeezing her arm. “What do you think is good for a bride as beautiful as Molly?” she asked Blake. “So she won’t outshine them so much on her wedding day?” she teased.
“Flowers aren’t really my specialty,” Blake answered, then received a pinch on the arm from Tessa. “I’ll need a moment to think,” he amended. He made a show of studying the surrounding blossoms, pretending to look thoughtful while scanning the possibilities.
“I think the freesias are very promising,” hinted Tessa. “Or maybe something in… purple,” she said, spotting some asters. “Maybe something very light and soft to accentuate Molly’s dress.” A mythical dress at this point.
“Some of these,” said Blake, in return pulling out a handful of the asters. “With some of these, maybe”—a mix of eucalyptus stems, in a soft gray-green—“and maybe a few sprigs of this lavender.” He added one or two stalks of it after glancing at the available flowers.
It wasn’t a bad selection, Tessa thought, as if Blake had some instinct for this kind of thing; maybe from years of studying paint chips for his contractor’s work?
“There,” said Blake “It’s—”
Don’t say “fabulous,” thought Tessa. Just this once, she was actually hoping the handyman would be more himself and not like Stefan, who would have sighed with despair at least three times now over the number of wilted buds and imperfect blooms on display.
“—a perfect match for Molly’s eyes,” finished Blake. With a smile, he held out the mixed bouquet to the bride.
That was the last thing Tessa would have expected him to say. Surprise left her temporarily wordless, even as Molly evidently admired the understated but elegant simplicity of the flowers—which did indeed look beautiful against the bride’s eyes.
The cost of these flowers would be nothing compared to the more exotic arrangements Bianca tended to prefer, so they would fit perfectly with the couple’s wedding budget. Thanks, Blake, she thought. We owe you this one.