“I know!” she said. “I want to start work on my wedding planning right away, and I knew the first thing I had to do was score myself a perfect maid of honor. Are you taking on new clients?”
Wow. I was used to a more reluctant bride. I performed an unconventional service, so it was understandable that most brides asked a ton of questions before they would even consider setting up a consultation.
“That depends,” I said. “When are you hoping to have the wedding?”
“Exactly one year today. If you’re all booked, I might cry.”
I chuckled. “Don’t worry, Valerie. I’ve got plenty of availability around that time.”
“That’s music to my ears!”
I admired this woman’s enthusiasm and could not wait to meet her.
Brides typically fell into one of two categories—anxious or excited. The two categories sometimes blurred into one another, but for the most part, a bride’s behavior would remain consistent. Each type came with her own set of challenges. Anxious brides fell victim to their emotions and sometimes needed rescuing from worry spirals. Excited brides, on the other hand, were more likely to descend into a daydream that involved nothing but pink champagne and pedicures, even though there was work to do.
Wedding planning always relied on some input from the bride, and my brand of wedding planning was more a partnership than anything else. I had a good feeling about Valerie though, and we made arrangements to meet the following afternoon.
I ended my call and finished closing down my laptop. My mood had improved, but a change of scenery was still in the cards. I couldn’t wait to get outside and enjoy some sunshine.
Vince caught my eye as I stood to go. “New client?”
“Yup,” I replied happily.
“Another postcard for your wall soon?” He pointed to the cork board. “I assume those are all from clients.”
“They are.” Pride bubbled in my chest, and I grinned. “And maybe. We’ll see how our meeting goes.”
“Hey, before you go.” He jerked his head in the direction of Julia’s desk. “What do I do?”
I considered reminding him that I was a wedding planner, not a dating coach, but the guy obviously needed a little help if he was badgering someone he barely knew for dating advice. Plus, I was feeling a little more forgiving after my chat with Valerie.
“Just go talk to her,” I said. “Seriously, it’s that easy. If she seems into it, ask her what she’s doing later.”
Vince sighed. My advice was not the game-changing words of wisdom he’d been looking for, but he acted on it anyway. Vince rose and walked to the other side of the office while I hefted my backpack onto my shoulder and headed to the elevator.
It was a quick walk to my apartment building. Living in the heart of Portland was expensive but worth it. The city teemed with artists and free thinkers of all kinds, and each time I stepped outside my door, I discovered something new. I had lots to keep me entertained—live music, festivals, plays, markets—and the variety of food was second to none. I grew up in the shadows of New York’s skyscrapers and, in many ways, Portland reminded me of home, only it was way smaller, and I liked the weather a lot more.
I dropped my bag off in my empty apartment. The sound of the canvas hitting my couch seemed to echo in the airy space and I retreated to the chattering streets, where people sang and yelled and cars honked at each other as the sun made everything glow.
I meandered up through Pioneer Courthouse Square, picking my way through the tourists and locals lounging on the red-bricked stairs of the amphitheater, then slowly wound my way down the bustling streets toward the river. The riverfront park was full of people, seniors to teenagers, business people to the homeless, all sitting on the grass or wandering about as they soaked in the sun’s healing rays. I claimed a spot on the railing overlooking the Morrison Bridge and thought about my new wedding. I hadn’t done a winter wedding for some time and I couldn’t wait to get started.
I would be the first to admit that I lived vicariously through my clients and that it probably wasn’t healthy, but how could I help it? For a few months, I became one of the most important people in these women’s lives, and together we created something sensational and beautiful. I got to give them the experience I never had. It was addicting. Their triumphs became my triumphs, and their problems helped block out my own. It was like guest starring in another person’s world and leaving my own anxieties behind. Who wouldn’t want that?
Chapter 2
Levi
Watching the sun set after a long day of work was the best feeling I ever got. It was the whole reason I’d purchased this apartment, which overlooked the Willamette River and the other side of the city beyond it. The full-length window in my living room afforded a view so spectacular that when I stood in front of it, my mind turned quiet. Nothing in life thus far had ever brought me so much peace.
A loud knock on my front door tore me out of the moment, and I turned to answer it just as my brother Garrick barged in. His joyous expression relayed his news before he even had a chance to speak.
“She said yes!” he announced, striding across the room.
I shook his hand vigorously and clapped him on the back. “That’s great news. Congratulations.”
The handshake wasn’t enough, and Garrick smothered me in a hug. “You have no idea how happy I am.”
My voice came out muffled against his sweater. “I think I can fathom a guess.”
Garrick laughed and released me.
I took after my father in looks, with dark eyes and hair, but Garrick had been the sole inheritor of my father’s sunny disposition. The pair of them might have been indistinguishable, if not for the cornflower blue eyes Garrick took from my mother’s side and his insistence on letting his hair and beard grow wild. He ran a hand through his thick mane now and shook his head in disbelief.
“I’m engaged, man. I’m engaged.” He somehow grinned wider and pulled me into another hug.
I patted him on the back awkwardly.
“I just came from Mom and Dad’s,” Garrick said, pulling back. “They’re thrilled. You should have seen Mom’s face. Val’s telling her parents right now, and we’re getting everyone together for dinner.”
My expression dropped. Garrick noticed.
“Don’t be such a sourpuss,” he said. “It’s just dinner. You like to eat.”
“Of course I like to eat.”
“Then what’s your problem?”
I shrugged. “I don’t have a problem. It’s just a busy night for me. Raincheck?”
He narrowed his eyes and studied me. “What are you so busy with that you can’t come celebrate your brother’s engagement?”
I wasn’t busy, and I didn’t need to say anything for Garrick to know that. He’d always been too good at reading me.
All the light in Garrick’s face dampened and his mouth curved into a frown. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have just let it be and agreed to go to the damn dinner.
“You were weird when I told you I was going to ask her, too,” he said. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Like what?”
He gave me a flat look. “You know what I mean.”
We stared at each other for a long moment before I decided it was time to get the feelings off my chest. I hated fighting with my brother, and this was a fight I’d been avoiding for a long time. Perhaps too long.
“You know that I think Valerie is a great girl,” I said. “Don’t you think you should wait a little longer though? You’ve only known each other two years, and her family...”
Garrick’s eyes hardened. “What about her family?”
I stepped over to the bar and poured myself a drink. Whiskey. Neat.
Garrick folded his arms and glared at me impatiently.
“You know exactly what about her family,” I said.
Garrick rolled his eyes and let out a sigh of frustration. “Why do you need to make it so dramatic? They�
��re a rival brewery, Levi. It’s not like we’re on opposite sides of a gang war.”
I had many faults, but a penchant for drama was not one of them. Valerie’s family had a long track record of coming to blows with ours. The rivalry between their Feisty Fox Brewery and our Black Mountain Brewery was one of Portland’s many inside jokes. It was a little like the Coke versus Pepsi debate, except it often played out on a personal level. For example, I’d gone to high school with one of Valerie’s cousins, Josh. He dedicated an almost stalkerish level of time and energy to finding out which girls I was interested in and beating me to the punch. A reasonably harmless obsession, sure, but I didn’t relish the idea of welcoming that kind of crazy into my family.
Nevertheless, I suspected I’d gone too far and tried to backtrack. “I just think we should be careful with them is all. “
Garrick ran his tongue across his top teeth and shook his head. “Why didn’t you mention any of this before?”
“It wouldn’t have changed your mind.”
“No, you’re right, it wouldn’t have. And it still won’t. Why bother telling me now?”
I took a sip of my whiskey and it burned down my throat. “You asked.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Garrick’s nostrils flared, and he started to pace the room.
“I shouldn’t have to ask, Levi! I thought you supported me. I feel like a goddamn idiot.”
“I do support you,” I said, leveling my gaze at him. “I just want you to be careful. That’s all. I don’t think it would kill you to take a little more time to think about it.”
He rolled his eyes like I was the most tedious person he’d ever met. “We are so beyond careful, Levi. This woman is my soulmate. I love her so much I feel like I can’t breathe when I’m not with her. There’s not a thing in the world I wouldn’t do for her.”
His countenance shifted as he spoke, and the same smile he’d worn when he first came to tell me the news flickered across his mouth.
I raised my glass to my lips, muttering into my drink. “Who’s being dramatic now?”
Garrick’s features fell flat again and a chill crept into the air. My brother was one of the happiest, bubbliest people on the planet, but when the frosty winds began to blow, even a polar bear would have a hard time enjoying the weather.
“You need to get over yourself.” He stormed to the door, glancing over his shoulder at me with his hand on the door handle. “You know, I was going to ask you to be my best man.” He opened the door. “I guess I’ll have to find someone who cares.”
With those words still hanging in the air, Garrick slammed the door behind him and stomped all the way down the hall.
I couldn’t count how many times we’d had arguments like this. He was a dreamer, a believer in all that was light and good. I was a realist. The problem with dreamers is they’re prone to violent reactions to reality. Popping a dreamer’s bubble could end with them popping something of yours.
Our roles in the family business reflected our different personalities. I managed the finances as CFO, while Garrick schmoozed business contacts and ran the public face of the company. Hell, he was the public face of the company. Garrick was training to take over as CEO when my dad retired, and I knew he was going to be great at it. Between the two of us, we could accomplish anything—even if we didn’t always see eye to eye.
I flopped onto the couch with a sigh and turned on the TV, flicking through until I found a football broadcast. I liked to watch sports when I needed to think. It helped to calm me down and work out the kinks in my brain like a cerebral massage.
Sure enough, a few minutes into watching and the guilt flooded in with a vengeance. There was no reason for me to be so cruel to my brother. He made rash decisions sometimes, but Valerie wasn’t in the same category as all his other mistakes, and I shouldn’t act like she was. She wasn’t a bad As-Seen-on-TV shopping habit or a hair-brained scheme to throw a rager his first weekend home alone in high school. Valerie was a person. A good one at that. Garrick thought she was, anyway, and I trusted him, probably more than I trusted my own judgment when it came to women.
I swore, flicked off the TV, and threw my head back against the cushions. A second later my phone was in my hand.
Garrick didn’t pick up right away, and I thought he might ignore me out of spite, but he soon answered.
“What do you want now? Are you going to critique my taste in music next?”
Again, I was the dramatic one?
“I want to apologize,” I replied. “The things I said were uncalled for. I’m happy for you. I really am. You know I can be a little overprotective sometimes.”
He sighed. “I’m not your kid brother anymore, Levi. I pay taxes and everything. I don’t need you to protect me.”
Everybody needed a little protection here and there, but now wasn’t the right time to argue that point.
“I know. Can I still come to dinner?”
It bludgeoned my ego to have to ask, but sometimes that was the only way to mend things.
“Of course you can still come. You’re my best man, aren’t you?”
Garrick was always quick to forgive. It was one of his finest qualities and another that brought him and my father closer together while my mother and I lurked from the shadows. A smile tugged my lips.
“If you’ll have me,” I said.
“I wouldn’t want anyone else to stand up there with me on my big day. You’ll have to be on your best behavior though, can you do that for me?”
“I’ll be good, I promise.”
“We’re meeting at Carlucci’s at seven. See you there.” Garrick hung up, and I dropped my phone beside me on the couch.
My brother deserved a better best man. The realization pricked, but maybe that was a good thing. It would make it harder to forget.
I had a bad habit of thinking I knew what was best for people, but Garrick was right that he wasn’t my kid brother anymore. He was smart and capable, and if he loved Valerie, that was all that mattered, I supposed. I just couldn’t stand the thought of him getting hurt. Especially if I’d been able to prevent it.
I might not be thrilled about the match, or about the dinner ticking closer by the minute, or about the fact that all of the people I liked the least in Portland would be at this wedding, but that didn’t change one simple fact. Garrick deserved better, and I needed to be better.
I sighed and lifted myself from the couch. With one last look at the fading daylight beyond my window, I went to my room to pick out a suit for dinner.
Chapter 3
Frankie
The first time I discovered Huber’s Cafe, I knew that I would be happy in Portland. I’d been on the fence about it before then, but that day I let go of my anxieties and embraced my new life.
I chose Portland for two reasons.
One: if my crazy idea for a business was going to work anywhere, it would be Portland.
Two: my life needed a makeover, and moving to the other side of the country seemed like the best way to do it.
So I moved. I changed. I held my breath and launched Always the Bridesmaid.
I almost didn’t get anywhere. Apart from the event planning experience from my college student union, I had little background in the field. I held onto my dream with a death grip for those first few shaky months, even though doubt kicked me at every turn. In retrospect, it seems a little insane that I thought I could go from being a straight-laced New York accountant to an out-of-the-box wedding planner overnight. It was a wonder I made it at all.
My first client, Gia Flynn (now a card on my wall), was a fabulous star who defied definition as a stereotypical middle-aged woman. She was planning her third wedding and was completely nuts about the guy. Her first two marriages had been complete busts from the start, and now that she was older, wiser, and a lot richer, she wanted to start off her third marriage with a bang. She came across my blog and called me right away. She didn’t care that I had little experience or that my fledgling
company was one misstep away from a nosedive—Gia just wanted me to take her on a ride.
We met in Huber’s Cafe, Portland’s oldest restaurant. It was her favorite in town because she liked to watch the bartenders craft their famous Spanish coffee, a process that involved as much theatrics as it did fire. I preferred to stare at the ceiling, a high, curved mosaic of colored glass. Light poured through it and filled the space with life—filled me with life. I had my first client. There were going to be bumps on the road to come, but I knew Portland and I were going to work.
Huber’s became my preferred meeting place for clients. It always reminded me of how far I’d come. There was also the added benefit that if things were awkward, I could order a Spanish coffee to break the ice.
I arrived to my meeting with Valerie a few minutes early and waited at the bar like I told her I would. She arrived right on time. I knew it was her because I was the only person at the bar, and the second she saw me, Valerie lit up and came over to wrap me in a tight hug.
“Hi! You must be Francesca!”
Clients didn’t usually hug me right off the bat, but her enthusiasm was infectious. I hugged her back, adding a little squeeze before letting her go.
“Call me Frankie. And you’re Valerie, I presume?”
She nodded, grinning. I stepped back and took a good look at her.
Valerie was gorgeous. Her teeth were enviably straight and even. She had a swinging blonde bob and blue eyes that glittered like sapphires against her creamy cheeks. We were about the same height, though that was probably the only similarity between us.
Her willowy frame looked like it wouldn’t be out of place at an Olympic swim meet. My first love had been, and would always be my mom’s ravioli. Though high school had put me at odds with my curves, I’d come to love the way my hips flared and my butt jiggled. Still, I admired her graceful form. I was already picturing her in an elegant princess gown.
“Let’s grab a table.” I found a waitress, and she sat us in one of the back booths, where we could have a little more privacy to chat.
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