Emily watched as the coffeepot jumped from Mari’s hand in a race to see who would hit the floor first: Emily or the pot. Emily won the race, with the coffeepot landing directly on her chest and stomach, the hot liquid seeping through the fabric of her blouse and burning her skin. Emily yelped, and tried to get up, but her shoe was still stuck in the carpet, and her motion sent another spasm of pain though her ankle.
In the confusion surrounding her, as cups were righted, and the Wests tried to help her to her feet, Emily saw only one thing…the fury coming at her from Mari’s eyes. She felt tears stinging at the back of her eyes, partly from the pain in her ankle, and the indignity of lying on the floor with hot coffee soaking her to the skin, and partly from the certainty that she was about to be fired, for something that was SO not her fault. Some family.
Determined not to cry in front of Mari, Emily tired once again to free her high-heel from the carpet. It was still stuck tight, and in the end, she kicked her foot free of the shoe, scrambled to her feet, and hobbled out the door. With each step, it felt like someone was sticking needles into her ankle. The tears welling in her eyes threatened to spill over at any second, and Emily’s only thought was to make it to the semi-privacy of the bathroom before that happened.
Unwilling to risk Mari hunting her down in the bathroom that was housed within the suite of offices that made up Rivera Productions, Emily pushed into the hall of the main part of the building, and fled toward one of the restrooms by the elevators. She didn’t make it far, though, before she smacked into something solid and hard. It was a someone, actually, and his scent gave up his identity before Emily lifted her eyes to his. The man from the elevator.
Emily took a quick step back, wincing in pain from her ankle. She made a move to go around him, only something stopped her. He was looking at her with an intensity that took her breath away. She saw concern in his eyes, as he reached a hand out to steady her.
“Are you okay?” he asked her, in the same deep, sexy voice from earlier. She hadn’t remembered it being quite so thrilling. His eyes drifted down her body, and she followed them to see that the coffee had made the thin cream-colored fabric of her blouse nearly transparent, and the shirt was stuck to her skin, revealing the lacy outline of her bra.
Embarrassment brought a flush of pink to her cheeks, though the mortification quickly changed to something else when his pupils darkened as he stared at her breasts. Her nipples hardened in response.
“I’m fine,” Emily replied, flustered. “Really.” She took another step back, needing her space, wincing again as pain shot through her ankle. “I just…I just need to go,” she blurted, limping past him toward the bathroom. She had one hand on the restroom door when she felt his hand on her arm. His touch made her hot, the feel of his fingers though her blouse like fire, and she jumped at the sensation. He pulled his hand back quickly…had he felt the spark, too?
“Take care, Cinderella,” he said, with a nod to her bare foot.
Emily nodded back at him, and then pushed her way into the relative safety of the bathroom.
*****
A deep sob escaped from Emily before the door had even fully shut behind her. The tears that had been threatening spilled out in two giant drops, one from each eye. Unable to ignore the throbbing in her ankle any longer, Emily slumped down into an armchair positioned in the “lobby” of the restroom. Emily had often wondered why anyone would ever need to sit in one, but now she supposed she knew. They were crying chairs.
The door whooshed open. For a split second, Emily imagined the man from the elevator would come striding in, would sweep her off her feet and carry her away to his mansion to ravish her. It was Charlotte, instead.
Charlotte smiled kindly at Emily, who struggled to wipe the tears away. She held Emily’s shoe out to her, that stupid shoe that caused all these problems. Emily took it silently and slipped it back on her foot. Doing so, she noticed her ankle was already swelling up, and the thought of having to put weight back on it, and in three-inch heels no less, made Emily want to weep.
Charlotte went to the other half of the bathroom and came back with a handful of paper towels, which she offered to Emily. Emily took them and blotted ineffectually at her chest.
“I guess that won’t help much,” Charlotte observed. “You know, it took me forever to find you. I checked all the other restrooms before finally noticing this one. I was kind of giving up on finding you, but figured you couldn’t go too far with only one shoe.
“The truth is,” Charlotte continued, “I had to get out of there. Mari kept apologizing and apologizing for you, and trying to blot invisible drops of coffee off my mom’s shirt. We kept telling her to stop, but she just went on and on. My mom finally asked her if someone should check on you to make sure you were okay, and Mari said she was sure you were fine and we shouldn’t concern ourselves with such trivial matters.
“Then she had us move to another room and started bringing in all these people with huge binders full of information, but she was still fuming about the whole thing. I could tell.”
Emily sniffed. “I’ll bet she’s fuming. I’m going to lose my job over this.”
Charlotte’s mouth gaped open at that. “For tripping? Really? You should sue her for having that crazy rug in the first place. That thing is a death trap. I almost tripped on it myself.”
Emily shrugged. “I’m pretty much done here. If you don’t sign with Rivera, she’ll blame it all on me. And if you do sign with her, she’ll claim you did it despite my clumsiness and fire me anyway.”
“She’s totally scary,” Charlotte said. “I don’t know why you put up with working for her anyway.”
“I was planning to leave soon. I want to start my own company. Doing wedding planning, like this, but my own way.”
“How would you do it differently?” Charlotte asked. “Rivera is one of the biggest event planning firms in the south. So she must be doing something right.”
Emily looked at Charlotte, debating how much she should say. An internal shrug and she figured it couldn’t do any more damage to talk about it now.
“Well,” she began. “Mari does lots of things well, and she knows a lot of vendors. She throws a lot of business to her preferred vendors, and that makes her think they owe her. So she threatens and intimidates them. If someone gets on her bad side, she doesn’t hesitate to tell other people and companies not to do business with that person anymore. Or she won’t work with them. The truth, though, is she’s a brilliant planner. She has some amazing ideas, and she has the discipline and eye for organization to make sure that everything goes off without a hitch. So you’d actually do really well to work with her. She’ll give you a beautiful day. She’s just not so nice to the people who work for her.
“My vision is different. I don’t want to have a huge enterprise like this one. Mari talks a good game about us all being family, except that’s all it is. Talk. But I actually really do want that. I like getting to know a couple, feeling like friends with them. Sometimes that means I don’t do things their way…because I actually get to know them well enough to know what they want, even if it’s not what they ask for specifically. I want to give them a day that’s amazing and memorable, but not exactly perfect. Because no day can live up to that promise. Things happens, and nothing ends up flawless, but sometimes the flaws are what make something the most interesting and memorable. Most of all, I want people to have fun and feel comfortable and free. And all that will take lots of time from me and my partners, assuming I get some. So we won’t be trying to plan the most weddings or the biggest weddings, but I do think we’ll make ones that are the most fun.”
Emily paused, as she let the idea that she was about to be fired, and likely blacklisted, sink in.
“I don’t know how I’m going to make that happen now. Mari will make sure that no one around here works with me. I guess I can make new contacts, but I have so many good people who I work with now…it’ll be like starting from scratch. I’m not su
re I can manage that financially. Not yet.”
Charlotte tilted her head and gazed at Emily. “What do you see for my wedding?” she finally asked.
Emily looked back, studied her for a moment. She took in Charlotte’s wide eyes and perfect, heart shaped face. This was a woman who people said yes to. She was someone who was used to getting her way. But she was also kind. She had searched Emily out and helped her. And she was smart and observant. She had seen through Mari’s outward charm. She also hadn’t let on that she’d seen Emily’s eye roll, though they both knew she had.
Emily studied Charlotte’s outfit. She was wearing a perfectly tailored outfit, high quality, but also flattering to her curvy figure. It was overall conservative, but a brightly colored scarf and funky earrings that were mostly hidden under her curly hair suggested Charlotte had a bit of an artistic side. Emily would need to talk with her more to find out if she truly embraced the arts of just wanted to express an unconventional side. She moved and spoke with a fluidity that brought to mind a graceful sea creature, but one with a bit of spunk. Maybe a spinner dolphin that could twirl in the ocean like a ballerina but also smack its tail on the surface just for the pleasure of splashing you.
Emily also noticed that Charlotte surreptitiously kept her arms crossed in front of, or over, her stomach as she sat. A hint of a rounded belly, if you looked closely. Pregnant, or self-conscious of her curves? That one Emily didn’t know just yet.
Finally, Emily spoke. “I see you in a flowing dress, something soft and romantic, but also with a touch of color. And I see your wedding outside, somewhere with water…maybe a pond or a pool. It’ll have a dreamy atmosphere, like you’re in a magical world, but comfortable as well. Low benches with soft cushions. The kind of party where everyone kicks their shoes off. You’ll have some more conservative guests, so we’ll have more traditional seating as well—standard round tables. No formal dinner, though, so people can be mingling together the whole time. They’ll get a full dinner, but they won’t realize it. Passed appetizers and tables with snacks for people to enjoy all night. Some of the older folks might grumble about that, but the food that we serve will be so good, they’ll enjoy it in the end. Nothing boring like stuffed mushrooms, but nothing too avant-garde either.”
Emily thought for a moment, her mind whirling. “Maybe Southern home cooking made fancy…shrimp and grits cakes, bite-sized fried chicken paired with a creative and unexpected sauce. It’ll look fancy, but taste like home.”
Emily noticed a dreamy look in Charlotte’s eyes, and taking that as a good sign, she continued.
“Lights, lots of them everywhere—floating candles in the water, fairly lights in the trees. A band at the beginning, with more subdued music for everyone, and a DJ later on to get everyone moving.”
“Amazing,” Charlotte cut in. “What else?”
“No standard wedding songs from the DJ…it’ll be more of a club mix instead, but not too edgy. Something like a mix of jazz and trance music. Loud enough to bring people to the dance floor, but subdued enough that we won’t drive the older generation away.
“I see it as sophisticated and classy on the surface, with a touch of trendiness to make it interesting. Not so much that anyone will even notice, just enough that it’s more than a standard, traditional wedding, but no one will be able to pinpoint exactly why. But it’ll be a party that no one wants to end.”
Emily paused. “I mean, that’s just off the top of my head. Normally I get to know the bride a little more first, and the groom too, before I can get a sense of how a wedding should go. And,” she went on, “if the couple has a specific idea in mind, I, of course, defer to their wishes, even if it isn’t what I see for them. I might try and sneak my ideas in a little, but I would never do something that they absolutely didn’t want.”
Charlotte’s eyes glistened. “Oh my goodness,” she drawled, the southern in her voice becoming more pronounced. “That was just perfect. That sounds just so amazingly perfect. You just described my perfect day, half an hour after meeting me, and I don’t think I ever even learned your name.”
“Emily. My name is Emily.”
Charlotte smiled, and the room lit up with the brightness of her beaming face.
“Well, Emily, it’s so lovely to meet you. I’m Charlotte, and I think I’m going to enjoy working with you. Now take a few minutes to freshen up in here, and meet me back in the office when you’re ready.” Charlotte turned to walk out the door. Just before she pushed it open, she reached into her purse and retrieved a small ball. She turned back to Emily and tossed the object to her.
Surprised, Emily’s reflexes from years of softball kicked in, and she caught the ball easily. As Charlotte left with a quiet swoosh of the door, Emily looked at the object in her palm and smiled. It was a pair of roll-up flats, inexplicably in a size that fit Emily’s size nine feet.
Chapter Three
Sighing with relief, Emily slipped her heels off and slid the soft leather shoes onto her feet. She dabbed at her tear stained cheeks with a damp paper towel, and finger-brushed her hair. Her blouse was hopeless, but she had a scarf tucked into a drawer in her desk that she could use to cover up the worst of the dark coffee stain. There wasn’t much she could do to fix her appearance completely, but at least she’d stopped crying, and with the flats on, she could walk with only a hint of a limp.
Buoyed by Charlotte’s words and kindness, she tipped up her chin and made her way back to the Rivera offices. Her elevator man was nowhere to be seen.
With more than a little trepidation, she knocked on the closed door to the intake room, and then entered without waiting for a reply. At her appearance, both Charlotte and Vivienne stood.
“Oh, honey, are you okay?” Vivienne asked sympathetically.
“I am, thank you. I just twisted my ankle a bit.” Emily replied with a smile at the woman.
“Oh, Emily, why it’s a miracle you didn’t hurt yourself,” Mari gushed with saccharine sweetness. “You should see the rip your heel gouged out of my imported carpet…it’s hard to tell who suffered more from your clumsiness…you or me? You have a little ankle twist, and I have to replace a $5,000 hand-woven piece of art.” Mari tittered out a laugh. Her thinly veiled criticism didn’t bode well for Emily later, but no matter how angry Mari might be with her, she would never say anything too obvious in front of clients. The fact that she said something with even a hint of snark, as she just had, let Emily know that this was one mistake that wasn’t going to disappear.
Then Charlotte came to her side. “Mama,” she said to Vivienne, “anyone who can take a fall like that and come back in here calling it a twist is someone who can handle all sorts of surprises with poise and grace. I want that quality in my wedding planner. I’d like to hire Rivera Productions to plan this wedding of mine.”
At this, Mari’s face lit with greedy, self-satisfied glee. Her smile winked out a second later with Charlotte’s next words.
“And I want Emily here to be my planner.” To Mari, she said, “We’ll sign today, but only under the condition that Emily is our exclusive contact here. I want her with me every step of the way.”
Mari stared at the Wests in what Emily imagined was surprised silence as she tried to think of a way to keep the contract but get rid of Emily. Emily could practically hear the thoughts processing through Mari’s brain, but in the end, she caved. She’d do whatever it took to keep the Wests.
Mari plastered on a new smile and said, “I’m so pleased we’ll be able to work with you. While Emily is an adequate planner, we have several more experienced team members you might want to consider.”
Charlotte stood firm. “I appreciate your advice, but I’d like to stick with Emily. I have very good instincts about people, and I can just tell that Emily is the right person to do this with me.”
Mari wasn’t ready to give in just yet. “Well, we can have Emily consult as needed, but certainly a more seasoned planner would be an asset to you during this process.”
> Charlotte looked ready to argue again, but Vivienne spoke up, carrying a hint of the power that one could see in her movies and her older interviews. “Mari, we have a very busy day planned. Please get those contracts to us, exactly as Charlotte specified, and we can get started. Or shall we stand around and argue about it some more? I, for one, have more important things I’d like to do.”
At that, Mari capitulated, and called the admin assistant who managed the paperwork and contracts for the office. With a tight-lipped smile, she told the admin about the specifications for the contract, including the provision that Emily was their primary contact. Within a few minutes, the paperwork was ready and signed.
Emily knew there’d be hell to pay for this later, but for now, she was safe in her job. She owed that to Charlotte, and she vowed that she would make sure Charlotte had the most amazingly perfect wedding ever. As the Wests prepared to leave, Emily sent Charlotte a look of thanks. Charlotte smiled and winked back, and suddenly, Emily felt like everything just might work out.
Chapter Four
Seven hours later, Emily breathed a sigh of relief. She had propped her ankle on a cardboard box under her desk for most of the day, and the swelling and pain had receded. The flats from Charlotte had been a lifesaver, as she’d had to run around the office compiling ideas for Charlotte’s wedding. Mari had sent Emily numerous death glares, but Emily knew that, for the moment, she was safe, and ignored the nasty looks and comments. Now it was quitting time, it was Friday, and those elements combined made Emily so happy.
As Emily began packing up to leave, Troy sauntered over.
“Hey, hotshot,” he drawled. “Now that you’re planning the wedding of the decade here, and it’s all thanks to me and my brilliant calendar switching skills, I think you owe me a drink. Or, like, a million drinks.”
Emily grinned up at him. “You’re totally right, but you’re too valuable to me to let you die of alcohol poisoning, so I’ll start with just one or two drinks tonight. After everything that happened today, I can definitely use one right now.”
Private Engagement Page 3