by Jeff Shelby
I’d just finished the last of my painting projects, and with barely a minute to spare. Connor and Laura were due to arrive any minute, the beginning of a weeklong visit that would culminate in their wedding.
I hadn’t been given the four-to-six week window Laura had mentioned to prepare the big event. I’d gotten three. But I’d managed to get the house ready in that timeframe, starting and finishing up my painting projects, and even spending some time on the landscaping so the backyard would look even more beautiful for Laura’s big day.
I folded up the drop cloth and grabbed the almost empty paint can. I’d rinsed rollers and brushes earlier, and these were the last things that needed to be put away. I stole one last glance at the wall. There were just a few wet spots left; they’d be dry within minutes, especially considering how warm the day already was.
I opened the front door, intending to walk the drop cloth and paint out to the pole barn, when I saw Connor’s mini Cooper pull into the driveway. He trundled to a stop right next to the house and Laura immediately flung open her door and hurried toward me.
I opened my arms, expecting a hug, but she stopped in front of me, her arms folded tightly against her chest. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and, with her face mostly free of make-up, she looked an awful lot like her teenage self.
“You are not going to believe what happened,” she said, her eyes flashing with anger.
I hugged her anyway. “It’s good to see you!”
She muttered a greeting before pulling away from me. “So Annabelle, my wedding planner?”
I waited.
“She was due back from vacation yesterday. From the Dominican Republic.”
“Okay...” I said. “Was she not able to get back on time?”
“Oh, no. She’s back.” Laura frowned. “Except she apparently contracted Zika while she was there. Can you believe it???”
“Zika?”
“Yes, that weird virus? From the mutant mosquitoes?”
“I don’t think there are mutant mosquitoes—”
“Fine. Normal mosquitoes. Whatever. Well, she has it.”
It was my turn to frown. Laura’s tone sounded almost accusatory, as if this Annabelle had purposely gotten bit by a mosquito and contracted a horrible disease in a flagrant attempt to avoid planning the wedding.
“That sounds terrible,” I said. “That poor woman.”
To my relief, Laura nodded. “I know. I’ve heard horrible things about it.” She shuddered. “But my biggest concern right now is the wedding. She was supposed to be helping to plan everything! As it stands, I don’t even know what we have figured out and what still needs taking care of!”
Connor had popped open the trunk and was unloading suitcases and bags. “We’ll figure it all out,” he said.
He dropped one of the suitcases and gave me a one-armed hug. He looked exactly the same as he always did, an aging prep school grad. His hair was perfectly styled, and his outfit of khakis and a dark blue polo made it look as though he was heading for a day out on the golf course. “Thank you for having us,” he said. “And for agreeing to host this madness.”
I smiled. “My pleasure.”
I liked Connor Bishop. He and Laura had been together for a few years, and he’d always struck me as a good balance to her nervous energy. Sure, he had his own quirks—he was a little too pretentious sometimes, a little too Beltway for me,—but he was good to Laura, and he obviously adored her. They were getting married, weren’t they?
He glanced at the suitcases at his feet and the one he was still holding. “Where do you want us?”
I’d already decided to put them in one of the guest bedrooms in the house. They’d stayed in the guesthouse once before, but I figured Laura would want to get ready for the wedding in the main house, especially if she would need any help from me.
“Guest room upstairs okay?” I asked.
“Works for me,” he replied.
Thank goodness one of them was agreeable.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do,” Laura said, staring at her phone. “She just texted me back and literally nothing is planned. Nothing!”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“She was supposed to find us a photographer and a DJ, and she was going to share some design options for the reception when she got back from vacation.” Laura’s eyes filled with tears. “She’s telling me that she hasn’t done anything except cancel the contracts in DC!”
Connor, to his credit, didn’t even blink. “Well, at least she did that. That means we won’t be on the hook financially for any of those things, right?”
She glared at him. “But that means we don’t have anything for this wedding. The wedding that is happening six days from now!”
“I’m taking care of the food for the reception,” Connor reminded her with a comforting smile. “So one thing will absolutely be taken care of. I promise.”
I grimaced, remembering what had been on the menu for Thanksgiving, courtesy of Connor. Chestnut soup and something made with fried duck fat. It had all tasted fine—better than fine, if I was being honest—but I didn’t know how adventurous I felt in the food department, especially with a hundred people eating it. I only had so many bathrooms available if things suddenly went south.
“That’s just one thing, though.” Tears spilled onto Laura’s cheeks. “There are hundreds of other things to take care of. Oh my god, we are never going to be ready. This wedding is going to be a complete and total disaster.”
A wave of helplessness washed over me. As much as I thought she was being a little melodramatic, I could tell she was truly distraught over all of this.
My motherly instinct kicked in. “I can call some people,” I offered.
Laura looked at me, her expression one of doubt and hope. “You can?”
I nodded, racking my brain and trying to think of who I might know that could provide some of the services she would need for the wedding.
And I suddenly remembered something that might be useful.
An image of the adoption fair in front of the hardware store popped into my mind. Not the people shoving dogs into my arms, and not the face paint artist. But the DJ. And the photographer.
That was a place to start, wasn’t it?
I had no idea if they would be available, or if they’d even be qualified to work on a wedding, but I could at least call and find out.
If nothing else, they might be able to provide some referrals for other professionals who could provide that service.
Excusing myself and going to make those phone calls would also get me something else.
A five-minute reprieve from my daughter.
She’d been home for less than ten minutes and my patience was already wearing thin.
I knew then that it was going to be a long week.
A very long week.
THREE
I grabbed my purse and went into the kitchen, which was about as far as I could possibly be from Connor and Laura as they moved their stuff upstairs.
I rummaged inside of it, finally unearthing the creased flyer the woman had given me at the Purrfect Paws adoption event.
The phone rang once before a chipper voice answered. “Purrfect Paws, and we have the purrrfect pet for you!”
“I’m actually not calling about a pet,” I said cautiously.
“Oh?” The woman on the other end sounded confused.
“I’m looking for the names of the DJ and the photographer at your adoption fair a few weeks back. At the hardware store?”
There was a short pause. “They work exclusively for us,” the woman said. “No other adoption agencies.”
I bit back a smile. She thought I was competition.
“Oh, I’m not from an adoption organization,” I said, trying my best to sound reassuring. “My daughter is getting married rather quickly and we’re in need of both a DJ and a photographer for the celebration.”
There was a slight pause. “So you’re
not with Homebound? Or Animal Allies?”
I guessed those were her competition. “Absolutely not,” I said.
“And you were at the adoption event? The one in Latney?”
“Yes. I…I actually held one of the puppies. A cute little white one.”
“Marshmallow?”
“Uh, I think so.”
“You were the woman who bought all the paint, right? You talked with Marlene while you were there?”
It was a little alarming that the person I was speaking with immediately knew who I was. I had no idea that she’d been watching me at the event.
The dangers of living in a small town, I guess.
“Yes, that was me.” I cleared my throat. “So, if I could just get those numbers, that would be great.”
There was another pause, and I worried that she might actually say no. “I suppose it would be alright,” she finally said. “Hang on just a minute.”
I waited for her to dig up the numbers and she recited them to me slowly, providing the names of both people.
“Did you ever end up getting a dog?” the woman asked.
“Uh, no, not yet. I sort of need to get through the wedding stuff first.”
“When’s the big day?”
“This coming weekend.”
She chuckled. “Wow, that is coming up pretty fast!” She paused. “And then you’ll be ready to add a furry friend into your heart and into your home?”
“Uh…” She’d caught me off guard. “Perhaps.”
She squealed. “Excellent! We have a fresh batch of puppies ready to find their forever homes. I’m sure we’ll have one that is absolutely purrfect for you!”
I mumbled a platitude and then hurriedly ended the call.
The last thing I needed was an animal that needed my undivided attention.
I already had a daughter who looked to be reinserting herself into that role.
I called the first number I’d jotted down, for Violet Photography. An answering machine picked up and informed me that Violet was on a European river cruise and wouldn’t be booking sessions until after the first of August.
That definitely wasn’t going to work.
I punched in the next number.
A man picked up the call after the fourth ring, when I was certain it was going to roll into voicemail.
“DJ Designs, this is Jackson.”
I quickly told him my name and what I was looking for, then braced myself for his response. I didn’t have much hope that he’d be available on a Saturday night in June…a night that was six days away.
“Yeah, I can totally do that.” Not only was he free, but he actually sounded enthusiastic about it, too.
“You can?”
“Yeah, just need to know where to show up. Oh, and we should probably meet ahead of time. You know, just so I can get a feel for the vibe of the wedding and the couple. I want to make sure the music played is a good reflection of who they are and what their guests will like best.”
I raised my eyebrows, suitably impressed. He was definitely saying all of the right things.
“Yes, of course,” I said. I gave him my contact information, including my address.
Laura’s voice interrupted her. “Mom, there’s someone here to see you!” she called from the living room.
“I can swing by later today, if that works,” Jackson said.
“That’s great,” I told him. “Any time is fine. We’ll be here.” I ended the call and hurried out to the living room, wondering who it was that had stopped by.
Sophia Rey stood in the doorway, looking positively radiant. Pregnancy had somehow only managed to improve her stunning good looks. Her hair looked like it had grown several inches, the locks thick and glossy, and her skin absolutely glowed. If I was right in my estimation, she was about five months pregnant, but there was hardly a bump visible under the shirt she was wearing.
“Sophia. This is a surprise.” I literally had no idea what she was doing there.
She smiled at me. “I heard through the grapevine that you were doing some remodeling. I was driving by and thought I’d check it out.” She glanced at Laura and Connor. “I didn’t realize your daughter was in town.”
“No remodeling here,” I said. “Just some painting.”
Sophia’s gaze flickered around the room. “It’s nice. A lovely shade of…gray.”
I couldn’t be sure, but I was getting the distinct impression that she wasn’t a fan of my color choice.
“You did other rooms, too?” she asked.
“A couple of the rooms upstairs.”
She opened her mouth, probably about to ask to see them, when Laura interrupted.
“Did you get ahold of anyone who could help?” she asked me.
“I found a DJ.”
“And a photographer?”
I hesitated.
Sophia spoke up. “A DJ and a photographer? Are you planning a party or something? Is that why you painted?”
I knew she was itching for details.
“No, a wedding,” Laura said. “Mine.”
Sophia’s face lit up. “A wedding?” She clapped her hands together. “Oh my goodness, that’s so exciting! When is the big day?”
“Saturday,” Laura said flatly.
Sophia’s brows puckered. “Saturday? As in this Saturday?”
Laura nodded.
Sophia’s eyes widened. “And you’re just figuring this stuff out now?”
I sprang to Laura’s defense. And mine. “The wedding was moved up rather abruptly. An illness in Connor’s family.”
Sophia turned to look at Connor, who was just coming back down the stairs. He frowned when he saw the three of us looking at him.
“So we have a DJ but no photographer,” Laura said, her eyes on Connor to make sure he was taking all of this in. “And I have no idea what else we still need, since Annabelle is apparently too sick to communicate.”
“Who is Annabelle?” Sophia asked.
“My wedding coordinator,” Laura rolled her eyes. “Except now she’s not coordinating anything because she got Zika.”
“Zika?” Sophia repeated.
“That new virus,” Laura said. “The one that causes small heads in babies.”
Sophia glanced, horrified, at her own belly and immediately covered it with her hands.
“She was in the Dominican Republic,” I explained quickly. “Not here in Virginia.”
Sophia gulped, her eyes still wide with shock.
“Oh.” Laura’s eyes drifted to Sophia’s bump. “Sorry. I guess I should have been a little more clear. You don’t have anything to worry about. Yet.”
I wasn’t sure how the tact gene had skipped my daughter. I cleared my throat and tried to change the subject. “So, anyway, we’re a bit busy trying to figure out the last-minute details needed to pull this wedding off…”
Sophia nodded as a smile blossomed on her lips. “I love weddings!” she exclaimed. “And, you know, I might know someone who could do the photography.”
“You do?” Laura was all ears.
“Yes. I have a photographer documenting my pregnancy. She does a monthly photo shoot with me. She’s really good.” Sophia pulled her phone from the black leather Coach purse she was holding. She swiped the screen, tapped an icon, and then spun the phone around. A gorgeous photo of Sophia took up the entirety of the screen.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Sophia gushed.
It was impossible to say no. Sophia was a stunning subject to begin with, but the photographer had made her look almost ethereal.
“Can she make me look like that?” Laura asked, in all seriousness.
“She can do anything,” Sophia promised. “I’ll call her right now!”
Laura beamed. “Oh my gosh, maybe this wedding won’t be a total disaster after all.”
“Thanks a lot,” Connor muttered.
She whirled around, her hand on her mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
He smiled, and his
eyes were twinkling. He leaned close and kissed her cheek. “I know.”
“You know,” Sophia said, her brow furrowing again, “I’ve done my fair share of party planning. My own wedding, of course, which was absolutely fabulous, if I do say so myself. But I’ve done some events for the Latney Ladies Society and for the bank here in town. And my own little soirees, too.”
“Are you…?” I coughed and then tried again. “Are you offering to help with the wedding? Help plan it?”
Sophia nodded. “If that’s something you need, I’m happy to help.”
Laura’s eyes bulged. It was like a real life princess was offering to help with her wedding. There was no way she was going to say no.
“That would be amazing,” Laura breathed.
Sophia’s smile was practically blinding. “Wonderful! I can’t stay long today—poor Tallulah is home all alone, and we know how anxious that makes her—but I’m happy to come by tomorrow. Have you thought about decorations? Flowers?”
She and Laura chattered about wedding details as they headed toward the front door, leaving Connor and me out of the conversation.
I smiled, a genuine one.
I didn’t think I’d ever been happier to be excluded from something.
FOUR
My ears were ringing.
Jackson Coates, the DJ we were planning to hire for the wedding, had spent the last thirty minutes going through various tracks on his playlist, trying to get a sense of what kind of music Laura and Connor would want at their wedding reception.
We’d just gone through a particularly loud batch of heavy metal, rap, and punk rock.
Connor and Laura had been a firm no on all of them.
But they had said yes to contemporary rock, some oldies music, and some 80s and 90s hits.
My ears could probably handle that.
Jackson rubbed his hands together. He was probably in his early thirties, and looked like one of those guys who liked to channel his teenage self. He wore ripped jeans and a black Rancid t-shirt, and he had multiple piercings in his ears. But his dark hair was thinning and the goatee he sported had small threads of gray running through it.
“Alright,” he said, his eyes scanning the page of notes he’d written. “So now we just need to figure out first dance song, father/daughter dance…all that stuff.”
