by Laura Briggs
“Like his reputation?”
“Exactly. Stefan was considered very good at what he did. A lot of people loved the events he planned at his last place of employment. Some people called him the best young event planner in the business, which is exactly why people like Bianca hire him.” Tessa had given so many speeches like this one about Stefan’s reputation that she delivered it on autopilot. She could write the bio for his new website—except she didn’t know French, and Stefan would prefer more dynamic and flattering language when being described.
“I notice you point out that a lot of ‘people’ thought this,” said Blake. “Call me crazy, and maybe I’ve been misreading the signs whenever you talk about him, but I’ve developed the impression that you’re not really one of those people. You don’t think he’s the genius the rest of these people do.”
Tessa’s toes traced a line in the floor’s dust. “Stefan and I just have different taste, as I said before,” she said. “He likes everything to be dramatic and impressive down to the last detail—which is great, if that’s what your client wants,” she clarified. “Only… he had a slight tendency to dismiss any ideas his clients had that didn’t fit with the image. It was sort of a dictatorship for Stefan, not a partnership with the client, when it came to creating the event. He tended to step on other people.”
It was true. Stefan was a dictator when it came to his ideas and his style, and had mowed over meeker clients whose taste hadn’t been perfection in his eyes. Tessa would rather die than make a client cry by crushing something they really wanted.
“He sounds like a real asset to the business,” said Blake dryly.
She shook her head. “He was successful and available,” she said. “Having someone like him would prevent us from failing. That’s what I thought. It would have been horrible to work with him, but I told myself I could put up with it.”
“Why were you planning to try?” said Blake. “I know you said you’re new at this, but you’ve worked for event planners before. It’s not like nobody in the city would trust you—it just might take a little longer to find someone the first time. You talk to people confidently, honestly, and professionally, which is how a good client relationship begins.”
“Because I have no confidence in myself,” said Tessa. “I’m scared. I was too scared to try on my own, which is why I stuck with a job going nowhere, and left my dream in my notebooks and a savings account until I just… broke.”
The words had tumbled out of her, ones too honest to share with a stranger. She was crazy, confessing something like this to Blake without hesitating. Why wasn’t he looking at her like a mad person, instead of listening with that honest, thoughtful expression? There was no boredom in those bright blue depths, no laughter, not even a hint of a smirk that betrayed a lack of surprise for the truth behind her decisions.
“It’s not a big surprise, is it?” she said. “Look at me—even when I was finally brave enough to take the leap, I still wanted a safety cord. Natalie is so right about me. I would’ve hated every moment of being second to Stefan, even while telling myself I was living my dream. There’s not a chance he would have ever let me really help a client. He probably would have vetoed my every suggestion.” A short, bitter laugh escaped her as she imagined it as reality. Natalie and Ama would have hated it, too. They probably would have been glad when the partnership collapsed—which, as likely as it was even now, would have definitely happened with Stefan in the mix.
“I didn’t think that,” said Blake. “I never thought you didn’t have skills, or that you didn’t have the confidence. Maybe that you went after this guy for his reputation a little too eagerly… but we all have those moments when we grab onto something to stay afloat. It’s human. Sometimes we can’t help it.”
“That’s nice of you to say, given that it dragged you into our client’s relationship,” said Tessa, with another hint of a smile, one that couldn’t help itself. “I think you have the right to be a tiny bit scornful of my weak moment.”
“You always have to jab people just a little, even when they’re being nice to you, don’t you?” He smiled knowingly, as he lifted his toolbox and climbed to his feet.
“Not always,” said Tessa. “I’m one of those people who’s only contrary with people I know.” Know well being the implication, she realized. She was saying that she was comfortable around him, and it was this confession that made her feel uncomfortable at precisely this moment, as he stood across from her.
Standing in a hot kitchen in her thin, clingy robe, across from someone who looked so rugged and muscular… their eyes met for a moment, and Tessa’s brain lost track of both her thoughts and all the warning bells in her head about this scenario. Her breath quickened a little, and in Blake’s eyes she saw a series of emotions; which, though she couldn’t quite identify them, caused the blue to deepen and burn with a softer fire than before.
Tessa sucked in her breath and glanced away to study the faded wallpaper. Blake gathered up the torn plastic cover and the old stove element, adding them to his pile of construction debris. “Do you have a fan upstairs?” he asked her.
“No,” she said. “I have one of those cooling units that fits in the window.”
“Is that enough to make it tolerable?” he asked. “Heat rises.”
“It’s broken,” Tessa admitted, as if he hadn’t guessed already. “It wasn’t the bargain I thought it was.”
“Maybe it just needs a little adjustment,” he said. “You can’t stay up there in that heat, especially if you can’t open the window now. You’ll smother. These mini heat waves are killers.”
“I can’t ask you to fix it,” said Tessa. “I’ll open the window in my office.”
“Did you ask me? Let me take a look at it and see if it’s fixable, at least.” He brushed past her and entered the foyer, then climbed the stairs. She followed him, trying to keep her robe closed at the same time.
“The space is sort of messy—it’s really not that bad, the heat—” It hit them like a wave before they reached the top of the stairs, and Tessa let her argument die, although she was still desperate to stop him before he opened the door to her private apartment. Rumpled sheets, clothes thrown over the back of the old love seat from her apartment, shoes and books scattered—it was a college dorm room the day before the frantic clean for inspection week. A picture of Tessa and her mom on graduation day was on her dresser, and a baby photo of her father holding her hung on the wall beside a magazine photo of a tent decorated with star lights, a milling crowd of happy guests beneath it.
“I’ve been planning to tidy,” she said. “It’s not much to look at, I know.” She swept a few garments that she would prefer not to be seen underneath her business jacket, and straightened a framed print hanging crookedly on the wall: a shower of rose petals falling on a bride in a courtyard.
“So who’s looking?” Blake set his toolbox down and opened the cover of the cooling unit.
“You are. You’re in my space. It’s not like you won’t notice it.” She sat down in the chair, on top of a business dress and a planner’s notebook.
“I’m sure it’ll look terrific after you pick out a bargain paint color. Pumpkin orange or maroon red or something else that makes a statement.” He opened a small valve on the unit, then screwed it closed again. He tweaked one of the wires leading to the power button.
“You’re making fun of my taste,” said Tessa.
“Only because you won’t take it seriously.” His screwdriver tightened something, then he popped the front in place again. He pushed the plug into the wall and switched on the unit. Tessa felt the miracle of cool air fanning her, even from across the room.
“Better?” he asked.
“Better,” she said. He could probably hear in her voice how much, even if she hadn’t closed her eyes while basking in the luxury of the cool breeze—better than any south-coast seaboard wind turned stagnant by city steam, and the heat rising from the buildings around her.
&n
bsp; “I’ll go,” he said. “I need some sleep. You do, too.” He closed his toolbox again and rose. She forgot about the breeze and turned around hastily in the chair as he entered the hall.
“Thank you,” she said. She meant for everything, and not only for her broken window unit coming to life again. She meant for his covert attempts to fix their oven without a charge, as if shaving a few dollars from his next bill could make all the difference in the world to their future.
“You’re welcome.” He smiled at her. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you then.”
“I’ll lock the back door behind me. Don’t worry about that. I’ll leave your friend’s key on the table, so you don’t have to worry about it, either.”
“I wasn’t,” she said. She had forgotten all about it, actually.
His smile became a smirk. “So you claim.” Tessa rolled her eyes.
She heard the sound of his boots crossing the foyer, then the kitchen floorboards. Hugging a throw pillow against herself, she listened quietly until she couldn’t hear anything else downstairs, and knew that Blake was gone for the night.
She wasn’t tired anymore. With a sigh, Tessa switched off the lamp and sat in the dark, thinking as the cool air began circulating through her room.
Twenty-Six
The next afternoon, Tessa arranged to take Molly and Bianca to see the courtyard, after borrowing a friend’s car. “I think you’ll really like this location,” she told them.
“I wish that you had shown it earlier,” said Bianca worriedly. “All those people—what if it’s some place too small? What if they come and see it and the rest is pretty and the site is plain?”
“Gran, I told you, we decided to trust Tessa and Blake’s choice. I said they could surprise us,” said Molly. “They’ve done such a good job, it’s the right thing to do.”
The unconventional thing to do was more like it, Tessa thought—but it was the only way to keep Bianca from choosing a venue herself.
“When I saw this place, I could really picture a wedding on site,” said Tessa. “Flowers, chairs for the guests, maybe even a red carpet leading to the altar, so Molly can walk there in style.”
“From a limo car,” chirped Bianca. “This neighborhood is familiar,” she added. “I haven’t been here in a long time. There was a grocery on that corner. And a little bakery over there that sold day-old pies and bread.” She pointed through the window for Molly, in the direction of a wireless service store.
“I think the place we’re going will seem familiar, too,” answered Tessa.
She parked the car across the street from Bianca’s old building. As the grandmother climbed out, Tessa could see a look of puzzlement on her face. Molly helped her cross the street to the stately old buildings with a stone wall between them, the iron gate leading to the sidewalk unlocked for Tessa’s benefit by the left-side apartments’ doorman.
“I think…” began Bianca. “I know this… is it…?”
“Look, Gran,” said Molly eagerly. “Isn’t it pretty? It’s like a cool little Italian garden.” She led Bianca inside, a smile of pleasure on her lips as she admired the landscaped courtyard.
Bianca looked at Tessa. “What is the address of this place?” she asked.
“It’s your old building,” said Tessa. “The Brentwood. That’s why it seems so familiar. It’s not likely you recognize it as it is now—it’s changed a little with the times.”
Astonishment filled Bianca’s eyes. “I remember,” she said. “This courtyard—there were laundry lines across those windows, not all these fancy metal frames on the stairs. Children drew games with chalk on the pavement… and there was a little shed where the building’s carpenter kept his things…”
“You lived here?” said Molly. “That’s so neat.” She held up her phone and took a photo. “We have to show Paolo this. He won’t believe it. Isn’t it incredible?”
“It looks so different,” said Bianca softly. “I don’t know… I don’t know if this is the place we should have the wedding.” She shook her head a little.
“I hoped you would think about it,” said Tessa. “This place is just like you. It found a new life… but it still remembers its past.” She broke a sprig off one of the spicy evergreen shrubs and held it out to Bianca. “I thought maybe it was time to remember what you loved best about your wedding in Italy.”
Bianca took the tiny evergreen branch between her fingers. “These didn’t grow here when we came to this place, Pietro and me,” she said. “But I remember the smell. Some like this grew outside the olive grove Pietro’s family owned. I used to meet him there sometimes, in the afternoon.” Her voice had grown even softer than before.
“Think about it,” said Tessa. “I think Molly looks pretty excited about it, though.” Molly was talking on the phone, presumably to Paolo, who had probably already seen the photos his fiancée had taken of the courtyard. Tessa stepped back, letting the three of them admire it on their own for a while.
* * *
“I guess we’ll have to wait for them to call us with the verdict on Bianca’s approval,” said Natalie, sitting in Tessa’s office a few hours afterward. She was watching as Tessa tallied the total costs for the wedding, trying to wrestle the budget’s numbers into still smaller ones.
“It wasn’t a mistake to choose it,” said Tessa. “I don’t think it was, anyway.”
She had had a few feelings of regret since this afternoon’s outing. Had she stirred unpleasant memories for Bianca, somehow? Bittersweet reflections about leaving her European homeland for another life? Maybe that wasn’t something for this wedding to either celebrate or heal.
“There’s a place down the street from the bakery that sells garden supplies,” said Natalie. “I’m going to call them and price a lightweight garden arbor tonight. Something we can assemble really easily, that won’t leave any damage in the courtyard. Hopefully, my cousin will have set aside some nice flowers to dress it up a little—those things look pretty plain on their own.”
“Just no fluffy tulle sashes, okay?” said Tessa. Her phone rang and she answered it as Natalie left. “Hello?”
“Tessa?” She recognized Paolo’s voice on the other end.
“Hi, Paolo,” she said. “Is everything okay?”
“I just wanted to call and let you know that we really like the courtyard for the site for the wedding. We really appreciate you finding it… and that’s exactly what we want, so long as it doesn’t cost too much,” he added.
“It won’t,” said Tessa. “I already appealed to the heartstrings of both buildings’ managers. They’ve agreed that it’s fine, so long as we have permission. And I can take care of that this week.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I wanted to say again how much I appreciate this. I never would have thought of choosing a site special to my grandparents’ story. Gran never would have told me about it in a million years… I don’t think she even considered the possibility of retracing her and Gramps’s steps when Molly and I tried to think of places from the past.”
“I hope she’s okay with choosing it,” said Tessa.
“She can’t get over how much it’s changed,” said Paolo. “It’s not the glamorous site she pictured, of course. I think she’s a little disappointed we’re not getting married in some grand cathedral, though—even the church’s stained glass wasn’t quite what she had in mind,” he joked.
“Before we’re done, Paolo, I think she’ll see it as more than just a pretty courtyard where kids used to park their bicycles,” said Tessa. “I can’t promise you that… but we will do our best.”
“I know you will. Tell the rest of the staff we’re grateful, okay?” said Paolo.
“I will.” Tessa hung up the phone.
“Guess what?” she said, peering into Ama’s office, where Natalie and Ama were laughing over an internet video on Ama’s phone.
“What?” said Ama, as the two of them looked up.
“Bianca isn’t sulking,” hinted
Tessa.
“No way! She liked it?” said Ama.
“Are you serious?” said Natalie.
“I just had Paolo’s personal seal of approval,” said Tessa. “We’re moving forward with the plan to set up Molly and Paolo’s ceremony there.”
“But what does Bianca really think?” said Ama. “She has her heart set on paying for a dramatic wedding. I can’t see a garden outside of her old apartment building being what she had in mind—especially since it probably won’t cost all that much to stage it there.”
“We’ll have to do our best to prove that it’s exactly what it looks like—the perfect place for this wedding,” said Tessa.
Natalie and Ama exchanged glances. Tessa thought she sensed a little doubt between them. “So,” said Ama. “Who wants to try my version of brudlaupskling?”
* * *
“I’m having sixty chairs delivered to set up rows on either side of the aisle,” said Tessa on her phone, as she walked past the chic little couture fashion store which had taken over the former grocery in Bianca’s old neighborhood. “That’s ten rows of chairs on either side, with three in each row… plus, we have the guests stationed on the fire escape balconies above for the big surprise.”
“How did you pull that off?” Natalie asked. “I thought the residents would be weirded out by the idea.”
“Simple. I appealed to their romantic side,” said Tessa. “All it takes are a few willing people to make something happen. Anyway, if you could pick up the aisle carpet sometime today, I would really appreciate…” The rest of Tessa’s request died away as she opened the courtyard gate and stepped inside.
There, in front of the tree’s ornamental bed where the arbor should go, stood a wooden altar. It was hand-carved with flowers across its front, and ornamental scrolls traveling down its supports, with a rough, handcrafted, artistic beauty. A light finish gently darkened its wood.