“Thanks, Rob,” she says with a soft smile. As always, it has that hint of self-consciousness behind it, like she doesn’t want to admit to herself that she’d gotten the present. It is so sincere that Rob would not have been surprised if the sun shone right behind her head, illuminating her in some kind of halo. Why she doesn’t seem to see herself that way is beyond him.
Suddenly, her phone starts to ring, snapping them both out of their hot-chocolate haze. Without checking who it is, Nellie picks up and politely says hello. The screen splits into two, showing Nellie on one side with Rob in the cafe, and Charlotte on the other side. It’s a bit unclear, but it looks like she’s at the office.
“Nellie, sweetheart, glad I caught you!” Charlotte exclaims. She straightens her back just a bit more as she stands in the corner of her office underneath the best lighting. “I notice you aren’t at your desk?”
“Yes, sorry,” Nellie says from her the side of the screen, already standing up and scrambling to get her things together and ready to leave. The camera briefly shifts to Rob as he remains sitting, ignoring the conversation. “I just stepped out with Rob for a cup of coffee.”
“Robbie’s here?” Charlotte exclaims, like Nellie is talking about an extremely cute bunny rabbit and not her adult son. “That’s perfect, I need you both back here in the office tout suite!”
**
“I studied French when I was in school,” Charlotte says to the camera. “But since I don’t really interact with people from that country, I try to add as many words as possible to everyday conversation. That’s why mon bébé Robbie only calls me Maman. I encourage all my staff to do the same. It adds a touch of class to conversation, don’t you think?”
**
“We’re on our way back, Charlotte. See you,” Nellie says at the end of the conversation. “Ah . . . uh . . . yes. Mercy.”
**
Robert laughs as the producers interview him on that little scene. “She has the worst French accent I’ve ever heard, and it gives me endless joy to think that my mother has encouraged Nellie to speak pidgin French. Maman has Nellie on a leash, just like Nellie has me,” he chuckles, like it was the most normal thing for him to say. “It’s just a fact that I’ve come to accept in the last two years I’ve worked in Charleston.”
**
Back at the cafe, Rob tosses some money on the table, as payment, and nudges his head back toward his car. His bun has come loose, and reddish brown strands of hair spill over his shoulders.
“Come on, petit chou,” Rob laughs, slinging his jacket over his shoulder as he swaggers over to the wrought-iron arch that led out of Ghirardelli Square. He smiles over at her and gives her a big, exaggerated wink. “Let’s see what Maman wants.”
Nellie is too busy tying up her coat over her cardigan to notice the way Rob is grinning at her.
**
“Yes, I am aware that Rob calls me ‘little cabbage,’” Nellie sighs into the camera, shaking her head. She and Rob are back in the office when the producers pull her aside for a quick interview.
“See you later, petit chou!” he calls, walking away. Nellie waves at him before turning back to the cameras.
“I can’t say that I get it, but whatever floats his boat.”
“What do you think Charlotte wants?”
Nellie shrugs.
“Knowing Charlotte, it could be anything. The last time we had a meeting, it was for her to announce that she was changing the upholstery in her office to magenta.”
**
The camera cuts to the office’s big conference room, where Charlotte is standing at the head of the table with all the staff looking up expectantly at their leader.
“People,” Charlotte announces from her perch. The cameras are really loving her low-cut neckline and silk shirt, her freckles sprinkled along her arms like she had been spending just enough time in the California sunshine. “Mesdames et monsieur,” she repeats, winking at Rob, who smiles back at her before returning to an impressive sketch of his mother in the meeting.
“I have . . . a massive announcement. It. Is. Huge.”
All seven sets of eyes sitting around the table look up at Charlotte and wait with bated breath and hushed anticipation, which she loves. She takes a deep breath and rests her hands on her hips, her blue eyes sweeping across the room.
“We,” she says slowly, “just got the Walters-Winters wedding.”
The camera sweeps quickly across the table, where the rest of the staff gasp at Charlotte.
**
“My employees know how big of a deal this wedding is. I’m looking for a partner, an official second-in-command,” Charlotte says seriously to the cameras. “It is something the network suggested to make the show more interesting, but I’ve conceded that I need a real man Friday for smaller accounts. The Walters-Winters wedding is going to be my final exam. I’m really quite excited!”
**
“Renée Winters is a goddess,” Donna says with a straight face, looking into the camera like she is talking to Renée herself. “She’s my bae. She’s a legend, she’s . . . she’s Renée Winters. I am convinced that meeting her is my birthright.”
“She’s a singer,” Nellie adds, looking incredulously at her friend as they stand next to each other for the interview. “And an actress—”
“She’s a fucking icon,” Donna interrupts.
“She’s also engaged to Congressman Ewan Walters, who is twice her age,” Nellie finishes, as Donna nods in agreement.
“Big scandal, especially since he’s still technically married or whatever? But the divorce must have come through—”
“It’s the biggest wedding of the year,” Nellie points out.
“Isn’t this network televising it?” Donna asks, looking over at the producer.
“Anyone Charlotte picks to run this wedding is a shoo-in to be her partner,” Nellie finishes, and the camera sees that she bites her lip right at the end of the sentence, like she doesn’t want to say the sentence at all.
**
Back in the conference room, Charlotte is continuing her speech. “I have a meeting scheduled with the couple tomorrow, and I’ve chosen someone to come on board as my associate planner,” the big boss says, squinting her eyes a little as if she were considering each person in the room. “Someone reliable, someone I trust, and someone who I know can bring their vision to light.”
Charlotte Bertram’s piercing blue eyes finally land on her chosen candidate, her thin pink lips curled up slightly into a smile. “Cornelia Canlas,” she says, turning her body completely. “Petit bébé. In the words of my best girlfriend RuPaul, good luck, and don’t fuck it up.”
**
“Aaaaaaaahhh!” Nellie exclaims to the cameras.
**
Episode Two
The episode opens with an exterior shot of the building, zooming in quickly to Nellie’s desk, where the cameras are interviewing her. There’s a date on a subtitle on the side that shows that it’s the day after Charlotte’s announcement and everything looks normal, like nothing happened.
**
“Everyone knows on some level that Nellie was going to get the gig,” Donna explains as she files her nails. “She is Charlotte’s favorite, after all.”
**
The cameras pan in on Nellie (in another cardigan), sitting behind her desk, a cold cup of tea on her table as she hunches over her black planner, scribbling furiously and working. We see Donna glancing occasionally over at her friend’s desk. Rob’s desk is unsurprisingly empty and sparingly decorated.
**
“So I was chosen for the Winters wedding,” Nellie says to the cameras, trying her hardest to keep her face calm and straight. “I’m excited, and extremely terrified. Nobody is going to be willing to help me, look at them,” she says, turning her head toward the small crowd of people in a corner, muttering and whispering amongst themselves. They don’t seem to care that the camera is on them.
**
Th
e show airs a flashback of a scene between Charlotte and Nellie the day before, just after the meeting. Everything is in black and white, just to emphasize that it is a flashback. The cameras are filming through a gap in the doorway, where we see Charlotte sitting at her desk and looking up at Nellie, whose back is to the camera. We can clearly see her fingering the pages of her planner, held securely in her hands.
“What can I do for you, Nellie?” Charlotte asks, leaning back on her chair and crossing one leg over the other.
“Well . . . I was hoping I could ask why I was chosen for the Winters wedding,” Nellie says slowly, as if it pained her to say each word. It wasn’t really in her nature to question Charlotte’s decisions. “You have older, more experienced planners in the office, and I’m just an assistant—”
“Oh, chérie,” Charlotte crooned, leaning forward on her desk. “You don’t want to ask me why I chose you,” she corrected, shaking her head emphatically.
“I don’t?” Nellie asks, recoiling slightly.
“What you want,” Charlotte says, standing up from her desk, walking over to Nellie, and placing her hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes, “is to know if this will make you stand a little taller, look more desirable, if this will make you better. You want to know if this is your ticket into the big leagues.”
Nellie blinks in surprise at her boss’ blunt statement. She’s obviously taken aback, the camera adjusting as she dips slightly away from the view.
“That’s very condescending, Charlotte,” Nellie answers, trying to keep her cool.
“Yes, but you and I both know it’s the truth,” she says, sitting back against her desk and crossing her arms over her semi-exposed chest. “You’re a brilliant assistant, Nell, and I love you. I could practically go away on holiday to Provence and you would keep this company running. But you need to be a little more self-confident and not hide behind your notes and planners for this job.”
Charlotte raises a pointed eyebrow, her eyes casting toward the planner in Nellie’s hands. She looks down as well, suddenly trying to hide it away.
**
“I like to think I inspire my employees to be the best versions of themselves,” Charlotte proclaims to the camera later. “Let’s face it, Nellie could do this with her eyes closed. She’s at a crossroads in her career, considering whether she should stay here or find her own way. So I’m giving her a little nudge in the right direction.”
**
“You can do this, and I wouldn’t have chosen you if I didn’t think you could,” Charlotte says, still perched on her desk. The cameras can’t see Nellie’s face, but her arms are crossed over her chest and her back is slightly hunched. A look of concern passes Charlotte’s face, but only briefly. “Focus on that, for now. Find your inner confidence, chérie, and I’m sure not even that cute lawyer from upstairs will be able to resist you.”
Nellie looks up suddenly in surprise, but the moment is over. Charlotte is back behind her desk, looking at a picture of Renée Winters and reading through a few printed interviews, trying to divine proposals for themes. Nellie sighs and walks away, almost right into the cameras. She seems surprised, as if only now remembering that they were being filmed. There’s a sharp intake of breath before she quickly tosses the planner in the trash. A producer comes toward her, as if to ask for an interview about what had just happened, but Nellie holds a hand up to stop him.
“Don’t follow me,” she says to the cameras, brushing the back of her hand against her nose before walking away from her desk.
There is a quiet lull in front of the cameras before Rob enters the scene, almost making a beeline for Nellie’s planner. He picks up the day keeper in his hand, testing its weight, brushing the spine like he is holding a treasured tome before looking around to see if anyone has seen him (he seems to not have noticed the cameras). Then he closes his hand around the planner and walks away, but not before his mother catches him.
“Robert,” she calls from her door, making her son whip his head and look in surprise. “In here, please.” She curls her index finger inward so he would know to follow her inside. The cameras do the same, pulling back as Rob drops to the seat in front of his mother’s desk.
“What can I do for you, Maman?” he asks, crossing his arms around the black planner like a child who doesn’t want his teddy bear taken away. If Charlotte notices it, it doesn’t show. She raises an eyebrow and resumes her work. Then she hands him a folder.
“Special project,” she says in a businesslike voice. “I think you’ll find it a challenge.”
Robert says nothing, reading through the contents of the folder.
**
“Are you sure I can say this kind of stuff on your network?” Rob asks the producer curiously in his interview. This time he’s wearing a shirt with the last names of all the Doctors from Doctor Who written in Helvetica.
“It’s no big deal, we just want to get all the footage.”
“Right. We were told that the network would occasionally swing us clients like Renée Winters or incite certain situations to make things more interesting for the viewers. But what Maman wanted me to do . . . well.”
**
Back at the office, Rob’s face is frowning in concern before looking up at his mother. He looks exasperated, like he has no idea what to do.
“Are you serious?” he asks her incredulously. “I’m sure you have someone else . . .”
“I do, but this is about you,” Charlotte says, smiling at her son. “Let’s see what you’ve learned by osmosis, bébé.”
**
“I’ve been assigned to handle Nellie’s sister Ellie’s wedding,” he announces, like he can’t believe it. “Aaaaah!”
**
The initial meetings for the Winters and Canlas weddings happen at the same time in two different conference rooms. Of course the cameras are more interested in one meeting over the other. The scene opens with a wide shot of the reception desk. Donna is talking on the phone, typing something on her computer. The camera turns and we see she’s actually messaging a Brazilian-Japanese model on Facebook.
Renée Winters shows up to Charleston Weddings alone, her bright green eyes flickering excitedly over every corner of the well-decorated office as she approaches Donna. The receptionist’s eyes swivel up toward the actress/singer.
“Renée Winters,” Donna says, standing up without preamble. “We meet at last. My name is Donna Smith, enchanté.”
Renée, confused and a little bit amused, cautiously shakes the hand Donna holds out to her. She opens her mouth to say something when Donna raises a perfectly manicured hand to silence her idol. “Your music,” she continues reverently, “has been the official soundtrack to my life. No other artist in the world has that honor.”
“Oh, well, I—”
“Donna, did my . . . oh, Miss Winters,” Nellie says, coming up from the inside the office. She was slightly breathless, trying to get Rob to come in to work before the client noticed, with no manner of luck.
Nellie and Renée regard each other, while Donna shoots her friend a piercing, almost predatory gaze. Nellie ignores her friend, walking up to the singer like she wasn’t a Grammy winner and Golden Globe nominee. “Welcome to Charleston Weddings! I’ll take you to the conference room and let Charlotte know you’re here.”
“Take me with you,” Renée commands, following after Nellie and matching her stride easily. “What’s your name?”
“Nellie,” she replies, smiling politely, quickly over the celebrity’s brassy blonde hair, bright green eyes, and perma-tan skin. “Nellie Canlas—I’m Charlotte’s assistant.”
“Nellie,” Renée repeats, letting the words roll off her tongue. She easily returns the polite smile, although we don’t know if it’s genuine or not. “I had a cow once named Nellie. It’s . . . apt,” she says, eyeing Nellie’s cardigan and straight blue cotton shift, her nose upturned at the sight of her black flats.
“Is your receptionist always that . . . intense
? She says my songs were the soundtrack to her life. I don’t know if I should be flattered or scared,” Renée says, looking away like she couldn’t stand to see those shoes again. “Should I be flattered?”
“I would,” Nellie answers seriously. She is so busy trying to focus on work that she doesn’t notice Renée carefully studying her. The celebrity giggles as they reach the conference room. It is by the windowed side of the office, lined with old art-deco-inspired windows and red brick. Renée actually sighs at the view. The Charleston Weddings office is somewhere near Twin Peaks, and has a beautiful view of San Francisco Bay, with the Bay Bridge not too far down.
**
In the backroom interview, Nellie is being asked questions about her first impressions of Renée Winters. She seems confused by this question.
“I can’t really look at her and think celebrity, you know? But I’ve seen the same veiled excitement, pun intended, like with a lot of brides. I have to admit, I think it’s nice that she still has that. It made her seem . . . normal. “
**
“Do you need anything, Miss Winters?” Nellie asks. Renée’s shimmery blonde hair fans her face as she turns her head.
“It’s Renée,” she insists, giving Nellie a wink. “I would like a vitamin water. Preferably one with goji berries. I can’t drink anything else. Seriously, anything else makes me vomit, and we don’t want that.”
“Er . . . okay?” Nellie asks hesitantly. “I’ll be right back with Charlotte,” Nellie assures her, stepping backward into the hallway and nearly bumping into the cameras. As someone who works in a very visible and well-known company, she knows not to judge her clients, whatever they look like, no matter the circumstances of their nuptials.
“Yo, Nell C,” Donna says, tottering toward Nellie. “Your sister and her fiancée are here. Rob just got here, so I can round him and the boss up.”
“All right,” Nellie sighs, taking a quick breath, as if to steel herself. “Wish me luck.”
“You better not be trying to steal Renée from me!” Donna calls after Nellie’s retreating form. Nellie twirls in her flat shoes and smiles at her friend.
Marry Me, Charlotte B! Page 2