Three Girls And A Wedding

by Rachel Schurig

  I set the files I was carrying down on the ever-growing pile on my desk with a sigh. I wasn’t really in the mood for Jacqueline first thing in the morning, and I had a lot of work to get through. But I knew from experience it wouldn’t be worth it to be late, so I grabbed my coffee and headed down the hall.

  Jacqueline was sitting behind her desk, talking rapidly to someone on the phone. When I first met Jacqueline Weinberger, I was incredibly intimidated. She’s a very tall woman, at least six foot, and strikingly thin. Her features are dark, harsh. She wears her black hair in a severe bob—I don’t think I’ve ever seen a single hair out of place. Jacqueline has a way of looking at you that makes you feel like she can read your mind. It’s not pleasant. Now, nearly two years after being hired, I still found myself ridiculously intimidated in her presence.

  Jacqueline motioned for me to sit down across from her as she barked orders into her phone. “You need to find out who they’re using,” she said into the receiver. “No, I don’t care about that…No. Just find out who they’re using, I can take it from there. Okay…Thanks.” She hung up and looked at me, sighing.

  “We’re getting to the busy season, huh?” I asked, smiling.

  “It would certainly seem that way. Now, Jen, tell me what accounts you’re working on in the next three months.”

  I was caught off guard. “Well, there’s the Jenkins engagement party…the gallery opening…that leukemia benefit. And there’re a few small birthday parties coming up.” As I spoke Jacqueline made notes in her ledger.

  “Good, good,” she murmured, picking up a large, leather-bound file. “All of those can be redistributed out.”

  I felt a spasm of fear clutch my stomach. Why was she redistributing my accounts?

  “Why,” I began, but my throat had gone quickly dry. I cleared it and tried again. “Why do you need to take me off my accounts?”

  “Jen, an opportunity has come up that I think would be perfect for you.” She looked at me over the file in her hand. “But it will be rather time-consuming, so we’ll need to clear your schedule.”

  “What’s the event?”

  “Are you familiar with David Barker?”

  “Of course,” I replied, nodding. “I mean, I’ve heard of him, obviously.” David Barker was one of the wealthiest and most prominent businessmen in Detroit. He had risen to fame by developing a myriad of the city’s abandoned and derelict buildings into posh restaurants and hotels. His revitalization efforts had not only garnered him a huge amount of respect locally, they had made him wealthy—seriously, seriously wealthy.

  “His only daughter is getting married,” Jacqueline said. “And they’ve contracted us to handle the entire event—engagement party, shower, rehearsal dinner, wedding. All of it.”

  My heart started to thump rapidly against my ribcage. Could she possibly be asking me…?

  “Of course, we’re very pleased to have acquired this client. It’s a major coup for us.” There was a glint in Jacqueline’s eye, and her voice shook ever so slightly. Wow. This must be a huge contract. I automatically began running through numbers in my head, and very nearly didn’t hear her as she continued.

  “We’re giving the account to Jason.”

  Damn. Damn, damn, damn. I should have known it was too good to be true. What had I been thinking? Of course they weren’t going to give me a contract of this caliber. I was a lowly junior executive.

  “However,” Jacqueline continued. “As he is just starting out in his new position, and since this is such an important event, we wanted to be sure that he had a strong number two to help him. I think you would be perfect for the job.”

  Hmm. I hadn’t been partnered with a senior executive on an account in a long time. That was usually a position given to the junior staff, the people just starting out. But Jacqueline was right—this was a huge opportunity. And it was in weddings.

  I would deny this fact if it ever got out, but the truth was, I loved weddings. Adored them.

  My friends considered me the sophisticated one in our group, the collected, grounded girl with the fancy job. The type of person who would prefer to work on glam parties, club openings, that kind of thing. But they were wrong.

  When it came to weddings, I was a big old softie. I couldn’t help it. I loved everything about them—the dress, the flowers, the promise of true love. No one knew this, not even Annie and Ginny, but sometimes, when I’d had a really bad day, I’d stop at the drug store on my way home and buy as many bridal magazines as I could get my hands on. Then I’d shut myself up in my room and devour every detail.

  The entire reason I got into event planning was so that someday I would get to plan weddings, maybe even start my own little firm.

  And this sure sounded like it would be the wedding of the year.

  “Of course,” I said to Jacqueline. “Of course, I would love to be a part of Jason’s team.”

  “Good,” she said. “Oh look, here’s Jason now.”

  I looked over my shoulder and saw Jason Richardson standing in the doorway to Jacqueline’s office. Jason was good-looking, there’s no point denying that. His dark blond hair was, as ever, artfully and carefully tousled. Jason dressed impeccably and always seemed to have a tan. Amanda and I had wondered, on many occasions, whether this was the effect of spending many hours outside or many hours in a tanning booth. We had a feeling it was the latter.

  A lot of the newer girls in the office had a crush on Jason. I suppose I could see why; he did have a great body and a flirtatious nature. Plus, as one of the few straight guys in our line of work, he stood out. In my experience, however, most of the crushes petered out the longer you worked here—that is to say, the more you got to know what he was really like.

  “Hey, Jackie,” Jason said, entering the office and coming around next to her, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “You look great today.”

  I had a hard job refraining from rolling my eyes. This is what Jason was like 24/7, at least to the people he thought could get him somewhere. He acted like everyone was his best friend, like everyone would naturally be thrilled to be graced with his presence. Gag.

  “I’ve just been filling Jen here in on the account,” Jacqueline said, a slight flush on her neck. Oh, good Lord. What was she, fourteen?

  “This is a pretty big shot for you, Jennifer,” Jason said, winking at me.

  “I’m very grateful for the opportunity.” I tried to sound pleasant, though I would have desperately loved to flip him off for his condescension.

  “Well, familiarize yourself with the file,” Jason said. “We meet with the client for dinner tomorrow, seven p.m.”

  “Sounds great,” I said, reaching out for the file as I stood. “I’ll get right on this.”

  I began to head toward the door, but Jason stopped me. “I’d like a ten page summary of your initial ideas by tomorrow morning.”

  Inwardly, I groaned. It was common practice to come up with a list of ideas prior to a client meet up, but ten pages was way excessive. I hadn’t even met the bride yet.

  “Sure, Jason,” I said sweetly. “No problem.”

  ***

  I spent the rest of the morning reading the file. Jacqueline wasn’t messing around with this one. There were bios here on each member of the family, info on their numerous businesses and financial holdings, even descriptions of various events they had thrown over the years.

  From what I could tell, this wedding was going to cost well over a million dollars.

  My phone rang at around noon. “Jen Campbell speaking,” I answered briskly.

  “Hi, hon, it’s me.”

  “Hey, Annie,” I said, relaxing back in my chair. “What’s up?’”

  “I’ve got to get out of the office for a little while. Wanna get lunch?”

  “God, yes.” Annie worked about ten minutes away from me, in a tiny theater where she taught drama classes to kids—and occasionally got to actually act in productions. “Where should we meet?”

  “I’
ll come to you,” she replied. “We can eat at that place across the street.”

  “Sounds great. See you in ten?”

  “Perfect.”

  Ten minutes later I slipped out of the bustling lobby. I really didn’t want to run into Jason. It was common for everyone to head out for lunch—it was a great time for client schmoozing—but I didn’t feel like letting him know I wasn’t having a working lunch. It would only add to his condescension.

  Annie was waiting for me at a table in Café Jade—with two full glasses of red wine. “Hey,” she welcomed me, raising her glass. “Thanks for meeting me. This day is murder.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked, shrugging out of my coat and sitting across from her.

  “We have a grant renewal coming up,” she sighed. “I’ve been trying to put together our proposal.” Annie hated anything office-related, almost as much as she hated having to schmooze for money. But the non-profit theater was terminally low on funding and it fell to Annie to try and make up for it.

  “Sorry,” I told her. “That’s rough.”

  “I’ll be happier when the new term starts and I spend more time with the kids.” She took a big gulp of her wine. “Anyways, how’s your day?”

  “Pretty good, actually.” I told her about the new account and she was suitably impressed.

  “Sounds pretty awesome. Congrats, hon.”

  The waitress came by to take our orders. I could feel myself start to relax, start to feel the omnipresent stress of the office melt away

  “Hey, wanna go to movies or something tonight?” Annie asked.

  “Can’t; I’m gonna be working on this client proposal all night.”

  “Damn,” she said, making a face at her wine glass.

  “Why? What’s up?”

  “Josh is coming over.”

  “Jesus, Annie,” I muttered, taking a long drink of wine. “When are you going to drop it?”

  “I can’t stand him, Jen,” she said firmly. “And I can’t stand that she took him back just like that.”

  I sighed. Annie and I’d had this conversation many times before.

  Josh and Ginny’s breakup had been pretty bad, for both of them. After they hooked up, when it became clear that he still didn’t want to get back together, Ginny had asked Josh to give her some space, to leave her alone for a while so she could try to get over him. He had taken her directive a bit too far—he changed his phone number, moved, and didn’t contact her for nearly a year.

  Of course, this was the same time that Ginny was finding out about the baby. She tried to contact Josh to no avail. To make matters much worse, Josh’s mother found out about the baby and did everything she could to keep Josh away, going so far as to tell Gin that he knew about the baby but didn’t want anything to do with it.

  It was a terrible situation. Ginny was heartbroken and Annie and I both were terrified for our friend. We weren’t sure if she would be strong enough to get through it, strong enough to actually have and raise the baby. But she did—in fact, she completely changed her entire life. It’s almost like she’s a new person—or rather, she’s still Ginny, only better. She’s much stronger now, much more happy with herself and less likely to rely on a man for anything, the way she used to. She even managed to get an awesome new job managing a bookstore, a huge step up from the nannying gigs she used to settle for.

  And when Josh came back, when it became clear that he had never known about the baby, Ginny was able to forgive him. She had never stopped loving him, and it was pretty clear that he had never gotten over her either.

  “She forgave him, Annie,” I said patiently. “So much of it was misunderstanding. And she loves him. She always loved him.”

  “I don’t care what his mom did, or what he misunderstood,” Annie said flatly. “He slept with her and then didn’t talk to her again for ten months. That’s what we call an asshole.”

  “It doesn’t matter what we think, Annie,” I said, starting to get a little irritated now. “He’s Danny’s father, he’s in her life, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “No, Ann. It doesn’t matter. All you’re doing by treating him like this is hurting Ginny. You’re driving her nuts. You have to let it go.”

  She stared sullenly at her napkin.

  “She loves him, Ann.”

  “Fine,” she sighed dramatically. “I’ll try to be…civil. That’s the best I can promise.”

  “Good girl.” I smiled at her. She, predictably, flipped me off.

  The waitress brought over our food and I decided to bring the conversation back to safer waters. “Okay. So you’re never going to believe what the bride-to-be’s name is.”

  Annie scrunched up her nose, thinking hard. “Rich girl, right?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Hmm…Candy?”

  I shook my head.

  “Astrid? Blair?”

  “Nope. Give up?”

  Annie nodded and I leaned in closer to her. “Kiki. Kiki Barker.”

  A huge grin spread over Annie’s face and she sighed. “That is just too, too good.”

  Chapter Four

  ‘When you begin to plan your wedding, one of the first things you will want to think about is the overall feeling you want to convey. In other words, what is your theme? What kind of wedding have you always dreamed of? Will it be elegant? Romantic? Do you want to incorporate nature? Music? Is there some hobby or passion you share with your hubby-to-be that you’d like to base your day around? Don’t be afraid to get creative with your theme. The only rule is this: it should reflect you and your fiancé and the relationship you’ve developed!’—The Bride’s Guide to a Fabulous Wedding

  “You nearly ready?”

  I looked up from my desk, where I was hurriedly shoving files into my briefcase, to see Jason standing in the doorway to my office. I suppressed a grimace at the sight of him. It was Wednesday, half an hour before we were due to meet our client, and I was not looking forward to spending the evening with Jason.

  “Just about.”

  Jason looked down at his watch with raised eyebrows. God, I hated him.

  I finished packing my case and stood, straightening my skirt. “All set.”

  Jason looked me over appraisingly in a way that made me want to slap him. “Do I meet your standards?” I asked icily. I knew I should keep my mouth shut, but I just couldn’t help myself. Jason was so condescending—it practically oozed off of him.

  “But of course, Jennifer,” he said, clearly amused.

  “Well, let’s go then,” I mumbled, somewhat embarrassed. It was clear he was laughing at me.

  “After you.”

  I walked ahead of Jason into the hallway, completely dreading the next few hours.

  “Where are we meeting them?” I asked when we reached the elevator.

  “Coach Insignia, at the RenCen.”

  “Nice,” I murmured in spite of myself. The view from the top of the Renaissance Center over the river to Canada was second to none.

  “Nothing but the best,” Jason said, busying himself with his Blackberry as the elevator descended.

  I closed my eyes briefly, thinking of the girls. They should both be home from work now. Ginny was probably feeding Danny, or maybe they were settling down in front of the TV. I wished I was there with them. The thought of meeting scary important people, trying to be impressive, made my stomach clench slightly. I wasn’t quite as comfortable with the high- rolling life as I might like people to believe.

  “Listen, Jennifer,” Jason began, but the elevator had reached the lobby and the doors were opening with a ding. “After you,” he said again, motioning me forward.

  We walked briskly through the nearly empty lobby and out the front door. There was a black sedan, our hired car, waiting for us just outside the main entrance. To my surprise, Jason held my door open for me and waited for me to sit before shutting it and walking around to the other side.

  Once we were s
ettled and the car was pulling away from the curb, he turned to face me.

  “As I was saying,” he started again. “This meeting is very important. We’ve never worked together before, so I just wanted to touch base about our respective…styles.”

  I looked at him evenly, unsure of what he was getting at.

  “These are powerful people, Jennifer. Very powerful. It is imperative that we make them feel like the center of our world. No request from them is too big. If they need it, if they want it, they get it, no questions asked.”

  “Are you under the impression that I don’t know how to please clients?”

  Jason shrugged. “You seem to have a tendency—a need—to insert your opinion, to state your case. I’ve noticed that around the office. You put a lot of yourself into your work. That may all be well and good in the little parties you’ve planned up until now, but it doesn’t fly on my account. I demand professionalism at all times.”

  I felt my cheeks flush. The bastard!

  “I can assure you, the client is my only priority.” My voice was steely, cold, and I was proud of myself that it betrayed no wobble, no sign of the emotion I was feeling. I was getting better at this.

  There was a time when a criticism like that would have sent me reeling. A time when any question on my ability or professionalism would have resulted in my tears. A time when I was weak.

  But that was ages ago. Things had changed. I had changed. And there was no way I was going to let Jason fucking Richardson see through me.

  “Good,” he said simply, spreading his hands wide. “Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page, Jennifer.” He turned his attention back to his Blackberry.

  “Oh, and Jason?” I said, my voice sickly sweet. He looked up at me. “It’s Jen. Please try to remember that.”

  ***

  We arrived at the restaurant ahead of the client. I took that as a good sign; you never wanted to keep these people waiting. We were shown to a private booth overlooking the glass outer wall. You could see Canada from here—it was gorgeous.