“Or,” Hope corrected quickly. “Maybe I could talk to the cake maker? See what accommodations she can make?”
“What about cupcakes?” Elsa suggested. “Those can be cute.”
“Cupcakes for a wedding?” Margaret asked, appearing horrified.
“My niece had that done at her wedding,” Ava informed the group. “They were set on a tiered stand and actually looked very nice.”
Everyone’s expectant eyes turned on Eleanor. “Cupcakes could work,” she said, taking notes, and Hope panicked. Jackie had told her just to okay plans that were already set, not to change them.
“Wait. What about—”
“Do you have a better idea?” Eleanor asked.
“I, um…no.” Hope wondered why Jackie had chosen Eleanor to coordinate her wedding. Then she recalled Jackie saying that Elsa recommended using the planner who’d handled William and Sofia’s ceremony. Weddings by Eleanor Bell was also the only game in town.
“Okay, now.” Eleanor heaved a breath. “About the flowers.”
Hope massaged her forehead with her hand. Jackie had told her everything was all set. “What about them?” she asked, peering at Eleanor.
“We’re going to have to make some changes there. The red roses you requested came in yellow.”
“Yellow?” everyone asked at once.
“They’re a very pretty yellow, though,” Eleanor assured them. “It might already be too late to get in another shipment. The florist said she could try, but it will be down to the wire to secure the ninety dozen you requested.”
“What?” Hope’s jaw unhinged. “Ninety what?”
“Dozen.” Eleanor eyed her evenly. “You were pretty insistent about that. One dozen for every day of your courtship with Brent.”
“Oh, that’s sweet!” Elsa said.
Hope quickly did the math, understanding that totaled over one thousand roses.
“Yellow can be good,” Ava said.
Margaret backed her up. “It is summery. Nice for June.”
“Is there no way to get them in red?” Hope asked. “Yellow is kind of a friendship flower.” The others looked at her, and she continued. “Symbolizing, um, platonic love?”
“Then, what’s the florist supposed to do with all the others?” Eleanor countered.
“Well, since it was the florist’s mistake…”
“It wasn’t her.” Eleanor shook her head. “But her supplier.”
“Oh.”
“It’s such a little detail,” Ava whispered from Hope’s other side. “Maybe just go with it.”
“Fine, fine,” Hope agreed, feeling like she was treading through heavy sludge. This was not going as she’d anticipated at all, and she was going to have a lot of explaining to do to Jackie.
“The caterer’s good with the food order,” Eleanor replied, finally delivering some positive news. “The tables, linens, and place settings are ready to go, too. The beverages and bartender have been confirmed, along with the officiant. That only leaves…” She flipped through her tablet. “The issue with the musician.”
Hope’s stomach clenched.
“She’s not so sure she can play ‘Eres Tú’.”
Hope’s eyes widened in horror. Her mom had studied in Mexico in college, where she’d somehow heard the old seventies love song, which was an American pop classic, even though it was sung in Spanish. She’d wanted it sung at her own wedding, but her church’s regulations hadn’t allowed it. Hope and Jackie had grown up hearing their mom croon the old piece while badly mangling its high notes.
“I can’t imagine how that got on the agenda,” Hope said, glaring secretly at her mom. “We can just take it off.”
“Oh, no.” Ava raised her hands in protest. “Please, sweetheart, let’s not.”
“That’s a beautiful song,” Margaret said, as if recalling its high strains. “I haven’t heard it in decades.”
Shockingly, Ava took this as an invitation.
“Como una promesa, eres tú, eres tú—” she began singing, and Hope shouted.
“Mom!”
When everyone turned toward her, Hope softened her tone. “I mean, please. Stop.” Then her forehead shot up as she scrutinized her mom. “You mean you got in touch with the violinist directly?”
“It’s Nancy Carole,” she explained. “She and I worked together as baristas in the old days. She was putting herself through music school then.”
So her mom had gone behind Jackie’s back. She’d essentially admitted as much.
“I certainly had nothing to do with this,” Eleanor said sourly. “But, if you’re insisting on this change, you might have to find another violinist.”
“Well! She said it would be no problem.” Ava shrugged, appearing haughty. “Maybe Nancy’s not as talented as she thinks she is.”
Hope couldn’t wait for this meeting to end and the “fun” part of this day to get started. “No, no. We’re good,” Hope told Eleanor. “We can leave off ‘Eres Tú’ and stick with the original plan.”
“All right.” Eleanor gave a few final staccato taps on her tablet. “Looks like we’re all done. Thank you, ladies!” Then she stood with prompt efficiency and shook everyone’s hands.
“I’ll see you out,” Margaret said, standing. Elsa decided to go with them, leaving Hope alone with Ava at the table.
“You and I are going to have to discuss the song thing,” Hope said. “You know I said no promises.”
But Ava’s attention was still on the departing women and tightly focused on Eleanor. “I don’t like her aura,” she whispered with a grimace. “It’s very brown.”
Chapter Twelve
Brent grabbed a line and helped Derrick hoist up the mainsail on his grandpa’s forty-foot sailboat. His dad was at the tiller with Grandpa Chad seated beside him, and William scrambled around untying them from the dock. Within minutes, their sail caught the wind and they were moving away from the marina and into deeper water.
As much as Brent adored his baby sister, who was also an expert sailor, there was something special about being together with just the Albright men. He checked his watch, thinking of Jackie. Her meeting with the wedding planner should be done by now. Hopefully it had gone well.