Speak Now

by Chautona Havig

  Silence hovered for a moment, and then Della asked, “Who is Lynn Czhewhatever?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Shouldn’t you be talking to Mayflower about this?”

  Wes passed the email printouts across the desk. “Perhaps if you read these—”

  Before he could finish, Della’s face contorted with rage. “That witch! I can’t believe she’s doing this to me! I knew she was an unprofessional—”

  Wes interrupted before Jonathan found it impossible to control himself. “That’s enough.”

  “But, you don’t understand, Mr. Lyman, this woman canceled appointments, insulted me, made appointments with other agents in our firm after I made time in my schedule—”

  “For a client, Ms. Carletti. You seem to forget that those things are your job. You cancel appointments every other week. It’s part of life. Things come up. You don’t have a right to an account, even once you’ve secured it. The customer can go wherever they like. It’s your job to ensure they like staying here, and from what we’ve heard of your behavior, it’s amazing that Mayflower gave us a second chance.”

  “What is with this woman? First she cancels her appointment because it’s ‘inconvenient,’ then she doesn’t even have the authority to approve it, then she goes trawling through our junior agents to upstage me, and now she’s accusing me of sabotage?”

  Wes played the message again. Two words into it, he nodded at Jonathan who punched his cellphone. The voices were identical. “You just put us in such a bad position; I don’t know where to begin.”

  “That’s not me!”

  “Mayflower Trust has no one by that name. Do I need to ask the police if they can pull cellphone records?”

  With the sight of her job on the line and the realization that she was caught, Della tried a new tactic. “Okay, it was me. I just wanted to see this great plan of Todd’s. No one would let me near it, and I needed to see where my weaknesses lie.”

  A glance from Wes gave Jonathan the opening he’d waited for. “Well, I can help you there. First, you underestimated the value of Mayflower Trust. You didn’t present any kind of market research to show where they needed to focus their attention, and you basically did a snow job. Fortunately for you, you’re amazingly talented. Your snow job is another person’s best work, or in this case, I’m guessing your assistant’s work because you were too busy to do it yourself. You gave a general idea and let Jim run with it.”

  Stunned, Della nodded. “I thought that’s what an assistant—”

  Jonathan didn’t wait for her to continue. “However, the real problem came when you accused your client, the person with the money who pays your salary, of being inconsiderate, of wasting your time, of aggrandizing, and then pulled some underhanded hijinks to get her in trouble.” His voice grew steely and cold. “Your unprofessionalism toward a client and the problems you’ve caused with our relationship with Mayflower Trust is enough that, if I was in charge of this office, you’d be fired.”

  “Well—”

  “As it is, you will never work in the same building with me. When I return to Rockland as CEO of this company, I will not have a woman who insulted my wife, calling her detestable names, working for me.”

  “Your wife?”

  “Jonathan has been seeing Cara Laas for weeks.” Wes leaned forward. “It is very serious.”

  “I— I—” Della looked helplessly at Wes and said the stupidest thing she could have. “I didn’t know.”

  Jonathan stood and walked around the desk to hug his uncle. “I have a flight in a couple of hours. I’ve got to go. I’ll take Todd his phone. I have a copy of the message on my computer. You’ll need it for her file.”

  At the door, he turned and added one last parting shot. “The killer is; Cara didn’t like you from the first conversation you had with her. You were rude to her and showed an entitlement mentality toward the account. However, she put it aside in order to give you a fair shot, because she knew her boss wanted you. He insisted, from the beginning, that she use you. If you hadn’t been so rude and dismissive, she never would have called me for an alternative recommendation. You lost that account. If she hadn’t seen me every day for a week, Delta would have lost it entirely. Thanks to Todd, we have it.”

  ~*~*~*~

  “She really did it?” Cara shook her head in disbelief. “I really thought I was crazy.”

  “She did. She’ll be looking for a new company—eventually.”

  “I didn’t want to see her fired. I just didn’t want to have to deal with her, and I didn’t want her to hurt your company’s reputation.”

  Wheeling his suitcase toward the automatic doors of the airport, Jonathan shook his head. “I didn’t fire her. I just informed her that I wouldn’t work with her when I move back here.”

  They waited for an open kiosk and then turned to find seats until Jonathan had to go through security. He glanced at her, weary from the ugliness of the morning. His eyes told Cara more than his words ever could. “I know, but just two more weeks…” Cara wanted to touch him but had already learned her lesson that weekend.

  People walked by, talking and laughing, but Jonathan and Cara saw no one but each other. Their eyes sent messages back and forth, seemingly at the speed of light, but the unspoken words all said one thing. Cara finally spoke it as Jonathan clenched his fists in frustration. “Distance is an obstacle, but it’s not insurmountable.” She swallowed her pride and voiced the deepest concern of her heart. “I just don’t know how long—”

  “Any length is too long, Cara. I’d ask today, but—”

  “I should see how you live first, yes. I need to see how your children respond to me on their turf—on Lily’s turf.” The last words she forced herself to speak.

  “Oh, Cara mia…”

  “It’s okay, Jonathan. This is going to be our life. We’re going to have to accept the fact that Lily will always be a part of it. I think I handle that better than you do, sometimes.” His expression pricked her heart. “It doesn’t hurt me, but I do think it hurts you more than you know.”

  “I just—”

  “Oh, don’t talk when you want to think. It’s not doing either of us any favors.” Tentatively, she reached to brush her fingers over the worry lines on his forehead, but millimeters from his face, Cara curled her fingers into a ball and dropped her hand in her lap. “This is killing me.”

  “How quickly—”

  “I have a friend at The Agency, I’ll ask.” Cara glanced at her watch. “You have to go, Jonafan.”

  “I’m going to ask, you know.”

  “You’d better.” Cara threw caution to the wind, kissed his cheek, stood, and strolled out of the airport. Just as she started to cross to the parking garage, she felt a hand on her arm. “Excuse me—Jonathan!”

  His eyes bored into hers. Seconds ticked by without a word, their only contact his hand on her arm. After what seemed an age, Jonathan whispered, “Consider yourself soundly kissed, Cara mia.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Tuesday morning, at exactly nine-fifteen, Cara stepped out to Tina’s desk and left a post-it note on the middle of the woman’s monitor. At Tina’s raised eyebrows, she shook her head ever so slightly and returned to her office, locking the door behind her. Tina stared at the note curiously.

  Tina,

  No calls. Period. Don’t let anyone near my door. Shred note.

  Cara

  Though she felt a bit melodramatic, the last thing Cara wanted was for anyone in the office to get wind of the phone call she was about to make. Okay, so shred note was probably excessive, Cara. Seriously?

  Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone and dialed Rockland’s most exclusive bridal agency. Several minutes passed as she waited on hold before a familiar voice came on the line. “Cara? If you’re not calling me for use of my services, I promise, I’ll crepe paper your house!”

  “As if you’d ever touch the stuff,” Cara laughed. “Seriously though, I am calling
for your help, but this is a delicate matter. Can we meet somewhere away from your offices.”

  “I can set up an appointment—”

  Feeling ridiculous, Cara interrupted. “I really need this to be more of an ‘accidentally, on purpose’ kind of meeting.”

  “Oh, I am intrigued. What is going on?”

  “Let’s just say that someplace out of town might be best, if you can manage it.”

  “If you’re getting married to someone even remotely connected to the Solaris, I swear—”

  “Oh, don’t be so dramatic!”

  Trenna Fairfield’s laughter rang out into Cara’s office, making her nervous. “Seriously, Cara? Look who’s talking about dramatic!”

  “Okay, you have a point, but I am serious. You know how the Gazette gossip columnists follow you around town. It’s like they have access to your appointment schedule or something. I need discretion, and I need it off any books. In your head only.”

  “I’m going to Brunswick to visit an aunt in the hospital. If you want to meet in the parking lot, we can talk there. How much time do you need?”

  “Make it the cafeteria. Can you give me half an hour?”

  “Done. This better be good.” Trenna’s voice, while teasing, held just the slightest edge of seriousness. “And if you’re talking about that Laban fellow, tell me now. I won’t show.”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. It’s Lyman, not Laban. When will you be there next?”

  “I’m on my way now.”

  “See you soon. I’ll give you a half an hour?” Cara waited for an affirmative, grabbed her purse, laptop, and cellphone, and unlocked her door.

  “Tina, I have an appointment. If I’m not back by lunch, you can take off an hour early tonight. I’ll try though.”

  ~*~*~*~

  “Trenna?” Cara felt ridiculous hiding in a corner and pretending just to happen to run into Rockland’s most sought after wedding planner. It seemed as if the entire room must know what was happening, and every time someone picked up a cellphone, she cringed.

  “Cara! I haven’t seen you since Julia’s wedding. How are they?”

  After a minute or two of pleasant catch up, Trenna got down to business. “Okay, so I get the need for discretion—to a point. What gives?”

  “We’re not engaged— yet.”

  “But you think he’s going to ask?” Trenna needed to make notes, but couldn’t.

  Cara saw her fingers twitching and slid a voice activated micro recorder across the table. “I thought you might need this.”

  “Thanks. I didn’t think about it.” Discreetly, Trenna dropped her napkin over the device and repeated the question. “So, you think he’s going to ask?”

  “I know he is, barring any unexpected, insurmountable problems. Probably when I go to visit them in Atlanta next month.”

  Taking a bite of her wilted salad, Trenna jabbed her fork in Cara’s direction. “You owe me a decent lunch for this.” A strange look crossed her face. “Wait a minute, if we’re talking two weeks, why the haste and the secrecy?”

  “We’re going to want the fastest wedding you’ve ever planned. I’m talking everything.”

  Trenna seemed to carefully consider her next words. “Look, Cara, I have to be honest with you. Unless the Lymans are paying for this, you can’t afford us. I mean, I’ll waive my fees, but I can’t make any promises about the others.”

  “I don’t expect that, Tren. I know things are expensive, and I don’t know how I’ll pay for them—maybe I’ll cash out my retirement accounts or something, but we’re talking Lymans here. I can’t do the simple DIY wedding with them. Jonathan was married to a Fillmore last time!”

  “Lower your voice, Cara. Take a deep breath. Let’s say you get engaged on August first, when would you want the wedding?”

  “September?” Cara’s voice sounded panicked.

  “Okay, what is the rush? If you tell me you’re pregnant—”

  “I am not pregnant, for heaven’s sake.” Her eyes scanned the room to ensure no one listened nearby. “But I’m not sure how much I can promise if we have to wait for eight months. That’s why I need to get started today. I almost called you at home last night.”

  “You should have.”

  Cara sighed. “Look, this can’t get into the papers before we’re actually engaged and his family is notified. That’s just tacky.”

  “Does he know you are talking to me?”

  Keith Whitley’s, “When You Say Nothing at All” sang in Cara’s purse before she could respond. “I’ll ask him.” She slid the phone open and answered, looking like someone had just made her day. A minute later, she disconnected and smiled. “He’s sending you a message.”

  “He has my number?”

  Cara’s phone buzzed again and she passed it across the table, the text message filling the screen. HOW QUICKLY CAN THIS BE PULLED OFF? SOONER IS BETTER THAN LATER. Her eyes met Trenna’s and she took a deep breath. “We’re ready to make this happen.”

  “Okay, I’ll gather a list of available venues and the dates they’re available. Remember, these things change hourly sometimes, so you have to pick a place and let me know immediately. Caterer is next in line and then clothing. The rest is always doable, but those things can make or break a rush job.”

  “How fast, Trenna. I need to know if we’re talking four weeks, eight weeks—don’t tell me twelve, or I’ll cry.”

  “We need a minimum of six weeks from the day you set a date in order to send out invitations. That doesn’t include having them made.”

  “If they’re hand written, can they be started now without the pertinent info until I get back from Atlanta?” Cara knew her panic must show on her face.

  “I have a woman, I don’t know if she’ll be interested, but she’s done that for me before. She tends to be unpredictable as to what she’ll accept.”

  Leaning across the table, Cara begged, “Can you call her? Now?”

  The seconds ticked by slowly as Trenna called, talked, cajoled, and then slid her phone shut with a snap. “She isn’t interested.”

  “Okay, next best plan.”

  “Okay, if we can’t go with hand lettered, then how about handcrafted. If we keep it simple and elegant, it won’t look cheesy. I’ve got a paper crafter that just finished a job a week ago. Let me try her.” As the phone rang, Trenna watched Cara. “What’s the hurry?”

  “We’re trying to behave like the Christians we claim to be.” She swallowed hard. “Let’s just say I didn’t know how hard that could be.”

  The call to the paper crafter remained enigmatic from Cara’s perspective. She listened, trying to decide if Trenna had struck out again, or if the woman had offered to clear her schedule. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t tell. After ten minutes of ambiguous conversation, Trenna ended the call with a, “Great. Thanks. I’ll look forward to seeing the samples by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “She’ll do it?”

  “She’ll do it. She is going to make up three new ones and bring those and the six samples she thinks might work to my office tomorrow. I’ll leave them with Frank on my way to church tomorrow night.” Trenna looked pleased. “Okay, if we can’t find a venue, what are the chances that we can get the Lyman estate?”

  “Good, I imagine. I don’t know, but I can’t see why not.”

  “Then, if you can get girls in for measurements next week, we’ll get started on dresses. Have you chosen colors?”

  “I just found out last night that this was really going to happen, Trenna!”

  “I want colors, number of attendants, top three choices of venues or types of venues, and a picture of what you think you’ll have for a gown by midnight tonight.”

  “How?”

  “If you can’t email them to this address…” Trenna scrawled something on a napkin and slid it across the table. Send a friend to drop them off in the night drop at the office, but I need them ASAP.”

  Cara rose from her seat and smile
d at Trenna, whispering, “Thanks.” In a more conversational tone, she added, “It’s great to see you again. I’ll be praying for your aunt.”

  ~*~*~*~

  On the way back to the office, Cara called her mom. “Okay, you can’t freak out, you can’t call anyone, you can’t say anything to anyone. I have to know you’re going to promise me, or I’m hanging up.”

  “Cara!”

  “Mom, this is serious.” She felt like a melodramatic teenager. That’d be because you’re acting like one, you twit, she chastised herself.

  “Okay, okay. You’re getting that promotion, aren’t you?”

  “Not the kind you’re thinking, no. However, you just got one.” The temptation to giggle was nauseating. Her mom was going to freak.

  “I did?” Diane’s voice sounded annoyed. “Cara, spit it out before I lose it.”

  “You need to drive to Ferndale or someplace far away and buy every bridal magazine you can find.”

  “Why—he proposed! Already?”

  “No, but he’s gonna if we’re still of the same mind when I get to Atlanta. I’m looking at September the twenty-sixth or October the third. We have to start now, Mom.”

  “Are you pregnant?”

  “Mom!”

  Diane didn’t sound in the least bit bothered by her question. “When my daughter tells me she’s planning a rushed wedding before she has a proposal, to a man that—” Diane coughed. “Well, to someone with the kind of chemistry you guys share, what is a mom to think?”

  “Maybe that her daughter is trying to prevent a precipitous explosion rather than clean up after one?”

  “Cara, dear, that is disturbing on too many levels to know where to begin.”

  “An unfortunate choice of words, I grant you, Mom, but what do you expect?”

  As the realization of what everything meant crashed over her, Diane’s voice softened. “My little—”

  “Don’t do it, Mom. I’m driving. I can’t afford tears.”

  “Fine. I’m on my way. Wait, why Ferndale?”

  “No one can know anything until I have a ring on my finger and an official proposal! You know what would happen if someone we knew saw you buying a stack of magazines.”