My least favorite part is the father and daughter dance. I even try to pick the song I’ll play for us when it’s time for Dad and me to dance. Who knows… at this pace, I’ll never get a wedding of my own. This is why I enjoy doing what I do, the moments when I help the groom and the bride create the event of their dreams.
Sighing, I walk back toward the table where the bride and groom taste the different cakes, fillings, and frostings that we recommend according to what they like.
I look at the trays George, the baker and owner of the place, set on the table. The one marked as Loved is empty.
“Do we have any favorites so far?”
“This is it. Don’t you think, Pablo?” Laura Moy asks her fiancé. She points at one that is placed on the Don’t Like tray.
Okay, I’m guessing they didn’t understand the instructions. Is the Maybe tray the one that holds the flavors they disliked? Yikes, why is it so hard for people to follow simple instructions?
Pablo nods. He grabs another piece of the cake.
I look at the tag under the small cake. Pulling my tablet, I scribble all the details. Then I read it out loud to confirm I got everything right. “We’re ordering a cake for two hundred and fifty guests. Pink champagne cake with white chocolate mousse filling and raspberry buttercream frosting?”
“Can you add two hundred and fifty cupcakes to go?” Laura requests. “It’d be a fabulous party favor, don’t you think, Pablo?”
No, but it’s your wedding.
My job is to guide, suggest, and find what they need. I can’t tell them what not to do.
Am I on the verge of telling them that their lavish wedding could feed an entire town in Africa? Eros could use that money to back up some small businesses in Ecuador. I shut up because we can’t lose this client. Also, Eros isn’t part of my life anymore. He cut me off without any explanation—the asshole.
“Whatever the lady orders,” Pablo answers.
I smile and hand them the tablet. “Initial here, here, and here. Sign at the bottom that the information is correct. Sign next to the total price for the cake. We will send you the bill this Monday. I don’t need to remind you that food, flowers, and printing material invoices are due upon receipt. None of the items are refundable. The price tag for today also includes the bridal shower cake, the delivery fee to the event, and the groom’s cake.”
I take a deep breath after I finish my speech. As I told Holly, this disclaimer sounds like I’m reading the small font of a shady contract. Not that I’ve ever hired a wedding planner before, but I’m sure that everyone requires a fifty percent deposit, and they ask for the final payment at the end of the event.
Laura claps, giving me a coy look. I smile back. Pablo’s groom’s cake is a lot better than the wedding cake. Maybe it’s just my geeky personality thinking that a Lord of the Rings themed cake for a wedding is fantastic.
“Our next appointment is on Friday,” I confirm with them.
“You’re a lifesaver, Olivia,” Laura says as they leave the bakery.
Her compliment is good enough but not fulfilling. I’d rather work for Dad.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Olivia
After I place the cake order with George, I drive back to the office for my one o’clock appointment. This job isn’t what I ambitioned when Holly asked me to help her for six months or so. Coordinating lavish parties for wealthy people sounded enticing. Not that I would’ve turned her down. Our friendship has endured time, tragedy, and distance. She’s the closest thing I have to a sister. Three months after I arrived, I’m ready to move back to San Francisco.
My phone rings. Holly’s name appears on my dashboard. I touch the green button and say, “What’s new, boss?”
“Your one o’clock is here.”
“Are you at the office?”
“Maybe?”
“Why did you hire me if you’re going to be working every single day?” I try to sound like an angry mother chiding her child. “What is the point of moving across the country if you’re going to do whatever you want?”
“San Francisco isn’t across the country.” She makes a sound between a chuckle and a groan. “Plus, next weekend is the babymoon.”
“Pardon my ignorance, but what’s a babymoon? Are you sacrificing something to the moon so the baby will be born healthy? Or is it a sacrifice to Poseidon since you’re going to be by the ocean?” I laugh.
“There you go again, giving me a hard time about the baby.”
“I can’t help myself. And it’s not the baby, but your weird rituals. There’s the gender reveal, the babymoon, and the diaper shower, which I shouldn’t confuse with the baby shower. You could call the babymoon a vacation before the baby is born. Nope, there has to be some weird name to it,” I pause, clearing my throat before I say, “I’m judging you. Now, what were you calling me about?”
“As I said, your one o’clock is here,” she repeats. “Judge me as much as you like. It gives me a pass for when I judge you.”
Holly and I are more like sisters sometimes. She knows me a lot better than I know myself. I dare to say the same about her. Then again, I might be wrong, and Calvin, her husband, is the one who knows her best.
“The Wilfred-Brown consultation?” I confirm because Debbie, the receptionist, overlapped appointments yesterday, and it was a disaster.
“Yep,” she corroborates. Her tone is strange. I’m not sure if she’s concerned or just tense. That’s her permanent state of mind. Everything is urgent and due yesterday. She’s one of those people who sets her clocks fifteen minutes ahead so she’s never late. She scribbles her deadlines daily so she won’t miss them. She has a to-do list to create a to-do list.
“Hol, don’t stress out. I should be there in five minutes,” I assure her, pushing the gas pedal.
“I’m fine,” she assures me. “They came in early. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Debbie walked them to the conference room and offered them some refreshments. She’s leaving for the day.”
I sigh. “Remind me, is this a full-service wedding or just the basics?”
“It’s an initial consultation,” she says. I hear her pressing the keys of her keyboard. “You’re not going to love this. They canceled their wedding a couple of years ago. One of them is high maintenance.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know. They weren’t my clients. This was when Jessy and I started the company before she sold me her half and left.”
Right, the friend I never met who married a client and left her stranded with an angry bride, a growing business, and considerable debt. “Ugh.”
“You’re great at handling our special cases,” she says optimistically. “I’d love it if you can sell them the full service. We could use the extra money for a down payment on a house.”
I laugh. “If you need money, I can lend it to you.”
“That’s kind of you, but you know what they say about friendships and loans.”
“No, I don’t. The offer is on the table for you to take it,” I suggest. “Can you tell me anything about the couple?”