The Marrying Type

by Laura Chapman

  “Now walk down the aisle, and I’ll meet you at the end.”

  The little girl did as ordered and marched down the makeshift aisle. Before playing the role of bride, Abby had graciously had the forethought to scatter flower petals down the path. She had to practice for her mom’s wedding next month. The girl was a natural. It was almost impossible to see the floor underneath.

  Someone knocked outside of the office. Elliot glanced up and caught Eric standing in the hallway for a second time that week. He surveyed the mess before meeting her gaze.

  “My sister is done with this.” He held up the binder of fabric samples. “I came to bring it back.”

  “Thanks.” Elliot stood, nervously wiping a stray ribbon from her skirt. “Sorry for the mess. We’re in the middle of . . . something.”

  “I can see that.” Eric glanced at Abby, a faint glint of something—intrigue, maybe—lit his eyes. The little girl stood more quietly than usual looking up at the man. He didn’t squirm under her sharp appraisal, but matched her gaze.

  “I’m watching the flower girl,” she blurted out. “I mean Abby. She’s one of my brides. Her mom is a bride—not Abby. She’s getting married, and I offered to take care of her for a while.”

  “Oh.” Eric nodded.

  “Who are you?” Abby asked.

  “My name is Eric.” He knelt down and extended a hand to shake one of hers. “I’m helping out my sister. She’s getting ready to have a wedding.”

  “Hello, Eric. Will you help me, too?”

  Elliot wondered what the little girl was getting at. Eric took her request in stride, though.

  “Sure. What can I do?”

  “Will you marry me?”

  His face paled. “What?”

  “Will you marry me?”

  “I, uh . . .”

  Elliot smothered a laugh at his obvious confusion. She took pity on the man when he shot her a pleading look. “You crashed our make-believe wedding. I’m playing the role of planner and master of ceremonies. Abby is the bride. We need a groom.”

  Eric laughed, and the light reached his eyes. Elliot’s heart thudded in her chest with the memories his laughter stirred.

  “Ms. Abigail,” he said, bowing to kiss her hand, “I would be honored.”

  The wedding proceeded smoothly, until the bride balked at the groom’s refusal to kiss her on the lips. Elliot, who had watched the faux wedding with humor, worried they would have a full tantrum on their hands.

  Fortunately, Abby settled for the light peck he placed on one of her little hands. She found the gesture gallant enough to suit her. With the couple satisfactorily wed, the trio cleaned up the mess.

  After the wedding wrapped and Eric politely left, Elliot sank into a sofa and closed her eyes. That had been one of the most adorable exchanges she’d ever witnessed. The way he’d sweetly followed Abby’s demands. His patience. His gentle nature. She shook her head and rose to clean up the mess. Her heart did not need any more reasons to want Eric.

  MARISSA AND CHASE ARRIVED early on Friday morning prepared to film Elliot’s in-the-moment interviews and talk business. Since her surprise trip to the hospital, Marissa had renewed energy. That naturally extended to her production. With the increasing presence of an unexpected character—served up in the form of a world-famous tech wiz—she had big plans.

  “We need more action.”

  “Absolutely,” Chase agreed. “More action.”

  Elliot glanced between the couple, hoping one of them would expand upon their statement. Neither spoke, but stared at her expectantly. Were they waiting for her to come up with a plan?

  When several seconds had passed without further explanation, Elliot prompted them. “What do you mean more action?”

  “We want more excitement on screen,” Chase said.

  “We want the people watching to say, ‘Oh My God’ several times an episode, every episode,” Marissa added.

  Both grinned like they’d won the lottery or invented a cure for the common cold. Elliot massaged her temples while she tried to make sense of what they were saying.

  “This is a show about planning weddings. You’re describing a summer blockbuster,” she said at last. “I’m a wedding planner. Not a New York City cop with the secret weapon to save the world from total disaster.”

  “Duh.” Marissa giggled and nudged her husband. “We have to be patient with Elliot. She’s not in the biz. She has a one-track mind when it comes to action.”

  “Obviously.”

  Elliot blinked. “Would you care to enlighten me?”

  “When we say we want more action . . .” Marissa trailed off.

  “We want more activities,” Chase finished.

  “Exactly. More drama.”

  “More excitement.”

  “More change.”

  “More craziness.”

  “Have either of you paid attention to any of these weddings you’ve filmed?” Elliot asked. “There’s been plenty of drama and craziness. More than I’d like.”

  “Yes, but everything has been something people would expect,” Marissa said. “We want to do the unexpected.”

  “Let’s take the bridal party to dance classes, baseball games, parasailing,” Chase listed off.

  “Have them go horseback riding or deep sea diving,” Marissa added.

  “With the exception of the dance classes, none of those activities sounds terribly bridal,” Elliot said. Or interesting, she added to herself. “If you wanted to film parasailing and diving, why didn’t you pitch a travel show?”

  Marissa sighed. “You’ve got us.”

  “We’re not doing a show focused completely on weddings anymore,” Chase said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I told the network about Eric Warner,” Marissa said. “They want more of him. Whatever it takes, we have to go beyond the bounds of normal wedding footage.”

  “Anything to give him more screen time,” Chase said.

  Burying her face in the palms of her hands, Elliot’s headache throbbed even stronger. A bottle of water alone wouldn’t combat this brain pain. She’d probably need a whole bottle of pain killers. How had she gotten caught up in this?

  “What about the other event planners?” Elliot asked. “There are three other crews filming weddings across the country at this moment. Are they having to change their formula?”

  Marissa and Chase exchanged another glance. If they did that one more time, Elliot might scream. Headache or not.

  “The other planners’ storylines aren’t testing as well as the Charleston clips,” Chase said. “While we’d like to take credit for that, a lot of the positive response is because of you.”

  “People like you,” Marissa said. “The network brass was already making noise about wanting more of you. But after hearing about this new development with Eric Warner, well, your segments just became the main event.”

  She wanted to argue with Chase and Marissa and beg them to come up with another resolution for the network’s demands. Maybe if she pitched a fit they’d relent and redirect their attention somewhere else. Or, she could take the path of less resistance, which would ultimately be more challenging. Elliot might be a pushover, but she was not afraid of a challenge.

  From The Marrying Type Transcript

  Filmed: July

  Airing: October

  Announcer: Charleston wedding planner Elliot Lynch always seems light on her feet, but where does she get that grace?

  Close-up of dance studio’s storefront.

  Announcer (cont.): By moonlighting as a dancer?

  Elliot: I took ballet and tap when I was a little girl. Like many other couples, Sadie and Adam want to wow their guests with their first dance as husband and wife. They asked for a recommendation, so I suggested my old studio.

  Announcer: Tonight’s dance class will be a bit larger than usual. The happy couple invited the whole wedding party for a crash course in ballroom dancing.

  Sadie: We figured it w
ould be a fun way for the bridesmaids, groomsmen, and everyone else to get better acquainted before the wedding. Who knows? Maybe they’ll pick up a few moves to wow the rest of our wedding guests.

  Adam: I thought we brought them here to show off. Maybe psych them out a little.

  Sadie: (laughing) Shut up.

  Announcer: And in tonight’s lesson, a certain big brother has caught the eye of most of the bridesmaids. Who will Eric Warner choose as his dance partner?

  Eric: (shrug)

  Announcer: And what about our favorite wedding planner?

  Elliot: I’m not here to dance. I’m here to help the bride.

  Announcer: That’s what she thinks.

  Chapter Eleven

  “But let there be spaces in your togetherness and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.”

  ~ Khalil Gibran

  ON A HOT AND HUMID summer night, the Warner-Crawford wedding party met for a ballroom dance lesson. At Elliot’s urging, the bride and groom had taken weekly classes since booking the wedding. Tonight, they wanted to show off their moves and give their friends a crash course.

  And thanks to Marissa and Chase’s mandate to give them more non-planning opportunities, a night at a dance studio seemed like a fair enough compromise for everyone’s needs.

  In the same dance studio where she learned to sashay and plié as a young girl, Elliot watched the eclectic bunch awkwardly go through the motions of ballroom dancing. Of course Heloise snapped up Eric for her partner. Unfortunately, her attempts to dazzle him with her cleavage and eye batting kept her from getting any of the steps right.

  The other couples paired up and tried to follow the instructor’s orders. With overly stiff posture and choppy motions, they moved around the floor. Elliot winced when one of the groomsmen trampled on a bridesmaid’s foot for the seventh time in five minutes.

  From the sidelines, Elliot offered praise, hoping the encouragement would help everyone relax. “Nice.” “You’re making progress.” “Keep up the good work.”

  The dance instructor snorted. Madame Angelica had always scoffed at undeserved praise. Each compliment had to be earned by diligent hard work, tireless practice, and flawless execution. As a young dance student, Elliot craved her approval. Years later, she still cherished the time Madame Angelica had called her a beautiful swan.

  “You must be watching a different set of students,” Angelica said in the heavy French accent she’d developed during a two-year stay in Paris after high school. “Your first grade tap class had more coordination than any of these people.” She waved her hand carelessly at the group. More loudly, she called out, “Be thankful you are bankers, teachers, and whatever else you do. You’d never survive if you had to live off dancing.”

  Marissa barely stopped herself from laughing. Instead, she jotted down a note in her tablet, probably to remember the quote for later use. She wanted more drama, and Madame Angelica would deliver more than enough.

  Thankfully no one else seemed to care or notice the woman’s remarks. They were too focused on staying in step to pay attention to the critiques.

  Except for Heloise. Like Elliot, she’d taken years of instruction from Madame Angelica. Unlike Elliot, she’d never been likened to a beautiful anything. Instead, the teacher had often chided the girl for her lack of concentration and inability to execute even a relevé. Apparently she never recovered from the slight.

  Pulling her shoulders back, she stopped dancing and released her hold on Eric to cross her arms. “Maybe you should let your prized pupil take a shot at the dance.” She glanced at Elliot, attempting to mask her mean tone with a grin. “You always said she was the best.”

  “What a marvelous idea.”

  Angelica pulled Elliot out of her seat on the sidelines and onto the dance floor. The instructor ignored her protests and left her to wait while she selected a suitable partner from the men. Standing in the middle of the room, Elliot felt every bit as awkward as she had at her middle school dances. She’d spend the whole time waiting for a boy to come ask her to dance when a slow song came on over the PA. It never happened. Instead, she’d stood with a friend or two, swaying unconsciously to the music while her cheeks blushed red.

  Years later, Elliot liked the sensation even less. She barely noticed when Angelica chose a dance partner until she thrust Eric’s hand into her own.

  “I have found you the perfect man,” Angelica said. “This one has the steps down, but was spending a little too much time leading the mouthy one.”

  Elliot’s eyes shifted to Heloise, who looked less than pleased with the turn of events. Knowing that she had ticked off her friend’s obnoxious little sister, Elliot momentarily felt better. The worry returned in the pit of her stomach when Eric unhappily placed one of his hands on the small of her back. The action sent shivers down her spine. She barely remembered placing one of her hands in his and the other on his shoulder. She focused her eyes on his chin. She was too nervous to meet his eyes, unsure of what she would see.

  Madame Angelica cued the music. “Now for the Viennese Waltz. One-two-three. One-two-three.”

  Eric raised her right hand higher to lengthen their arms. His hand slipped up her back. She instinctively angled her left arm on his shoulder and turned her head to be parallel with her arm.

  Elliot fell into step with Eric as he led her through the motions. The dance called for impeccable posture. It was also one type of dance that didn’t require the partners to make eye contact. She appreciated the lack of intimacy.

  They started off the dance rigid, but soon they slipped into an even-stepped waltz. One-two-three. They turned. One-two-three. They twirled. One-two-three. They glided across the floor. Elliot’s heart pounded in her ears, nearly drowning out the music. Her only recognition of when to step and move came from Eric’s lead. She feared her legs would give out at any moment. Only the strength of his arms prevented her from slipping.

  Her overactive imagination and steel-trap memory kicked in mid-dance. She remembered the laughter when they’d learned to do the Viennese Waltz back in college. She’d tripped over his feet, and they’d both ended up sprawled out on the hardwood floors.

  The song came to an end, and Eric dipped her once more. They froze in the middle of the room, both trying to catch their breaths. In her hands, she felt his pulse race every bit as fast as her own. She slowly turned to read his face, searching for a change. Aside from a few creases around his eyes, he was the same.

  His chest fell up and down. For a moment, he dropped his careful mask and let her see his emotions. They played across his face fast. Surprise. Interest. A hint of pain. Standing with their faces inches apart, Elliot didn’t care about technique. She wanted him to lean forward to kiss her. More, she wanted to kiss him herself. She nearly stopped breathing altogether when the truth slammed into her. Elliot wanted Eric now as much as she did when she was eighteen.

  A roar of applause and cheering broke the spell, and reality set in once more. They each stepped back. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Kissing Eric would be a mistake. Making that mistake in front of an audience and camera crew would be a disaster beyond her comprehension.

  “Magnificent,” Angelica said. “You two have done this before.”

  The dance instructor was right. For fun, Elliot and Eric took an eight-week dance class during the winter months. Being underage, their social opportunities had been limited. She’d been surprised when Eric had made the suggestion. At a studio within walking distance from campus, they enthusiastically threw themselves into learning everything from the foxtrot to salsa.

  “That doesn’t seem too hard.” Heloise walked up to Eric and Elliot and demanded their attention. “Show me how to dance like that.”

  Elliot allowed the younger woman to step into her place. Eric’s blue eyes stayed focused on her own a few seconds before turning to his new partner. He grinned at
Heloise’s zeal, but Elliot caught the tension in his stance. This time, the missed steps were not entirely his partner’s fault.

  He had to be furious with himself. She understood his pain. Wouldn’t life be easier if a person could turn their emotions on and off like a light?

  More up to the challenge after witnessing the demonstration than before, the other men and women returned to the floor to learn the waltz. Sadie stood back with Adam while Angelica outlined the basics for the other dancers. She beamed at Elliot and motioned her over.

  “Madame Angelica wasn’t kidding,” the bride said. “You know your dance moves.”

  “Growing up with cotillion made it a necessity,” Elliot agreed. “Heaven forbid us teenagers didn’t know how to dance while wearing a tuxedo or ball gown.”

  “I didn’t realize your brother was such a good dancer,” Adam said. “He makes me wish we had a few more months of practice before the wedding.”

  Sadie laughed. “I don’t know why I’m surprised either, but I am. When I told him about tonight he mentioned that he took a few classes in college, but I didn’t believe him. I wonder why he took dance classes. It’s not like they’re required, unless that’s how you did it at UVA.”

  “No.” Elliot laughed at the suggestion. “Dance classes weren’t a graduation requirement.”

  “Maybe he did it for a girl,” Sadie mused. “He was pretty serious about someone his last year of school, but after he moved to California he never mentioned her again. I wonder if he took ballroom dancing classes to impress the girl.”

  “Your brother had a serious girlfriend?” Adam’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “What was her name?”

  Sadie shrugged. “He never told us.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t that serious then,” Adam said.

  “Maybe it wasn’t.”

  Elliot kept her expression neutral and turned her attention to the dancers. A few of them seemed to have the hang of it. None of them would win Dancing with the Stars, but they might impress a few of the wedding guests.