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.
Today was a day to get to know each other more than anything else. There would be minimal wedding talk, which often surprised clients, who came ready to pin down everything from flower arrangements to seating plans in one fell swoop. My process took a little longer to get rolling than the average wedding planner, but there was no way my kind of business would work unless I got to know these women as more than just brides.
“Tell me about yourself, Valerie. What made you choose Always the Bridesmaid?”
“I work as the communications head for my family’s brewery,” she said. “You’ve probably heard of it—Feisty Fox?”
I smiled sheepishly. “I’m afraid I’ve always been more of a Black Mountain girl, though you guys rock a great IPA.”
Valerie tipped her head back and laughed, and when she didn’t stop after a few seconds, I began to wonder what I’d said that was so funny.
“Sorry,” she said, catching her breath. “You probably think I’m unhinged. The wedding is a bit of a Romeo and Juliet situation, you see. I’m marrying the son of Black Mountain’s CEO, Garrick Wheeler.”
“No way.”
She nodded. “Way. He does a lot of publicity for his company, so we often ran into each other at events. It started with a little flirting and then...” She shrugged. “One day I knew I couldn’t wait until the next event to see him, so I pulled him aside and asked if he was ever going to stop dragging his feet and ask me out.”
“You’re a real go-getter, then.”
She smiled. “I’ve been called that. My dad often uses the word demanding.”
Yikes. A bride who knew what she wanted and was determined to get it wasn’t always a bad thing. It was a lot better to have a decisive bride than it was to have one who would call several times a day to change the color of the table runners, but the demanding brides were the ones with the potential to turn into bridezillas. Bridezillas were challenging. It was hard enough dealing with one as a wedding planner, but being the best friend of the bridezilla was a whole new kind of fun.
Valerie laughed again. She pointed at my face. “I just watched your eyes light up with panic.”
“I’m not panicking!”
“She said in a panicked voice,” Valerie mocked. She laid a hand on my arm. “Relax. I swear I’m not going to be a nightmare. I want my wedding to be light and breezy. That’s why I came to you.”
The waitress arrived with our drinks, and I took a quick swig of my beer before I spoke.
“I’m honored,” I said. “It means a lot that you would trust me with your big day. I promise that you’re going to have an amazing time, and I’ll make the planning as stress-free as possible.”
“Thanks.” Her eyes filled with warmth. “I thought I was going to have to do this all on my own, you know. Sure, I could hire a wedding planner, but I wanted to have someone to share the experience with.” She looked down at her cocktail, and for the first time her exuberant glow flickered. “The only other girls my age I spend time with are my family’s ‘society’ friends. So not my type. And I’ve had a hard time making friends in the past because some people can find me a little...” She glanced up, smirking. “Intimidating.”
“I have no idea where they could get that from,” I joked. This time, we both laughed.
“Do you mind if I invite my fiancé and the best man to join us? I want you to meet them too.”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
Valerie texted her fiancé, and we chatted while we waited.
I found it funny how different we were in so many ways, but how well we got along. Valerie grew up the only child in a rich family on the west coast. She loved the outdoors, and hiked on the weekends, surfed in the summer, and skied in the winter. I grew up the second youngest of four in a poor Italian family on the east coast, and the most outdoor activity I got was the seasonal skating rink in Rockefeller Center. I was happiest with a pen or a book in my hand, though cooking with my mom was always one of my favorite childhood activities. Val didn’t get to spend much time with her parents until she started working in the family business, and even now they rarely shared a meal together.
“I’m so jealous of Garrick’s family,” she admitted. “They do everything together, and Garrick’s brother is his best friend. It’s just me in my family, and sometimes I feel like they see me more as an employee than their daughter.”
My heart went out to her. I took my family for granted and didn’t talk to my brothers and
sister nearly as often as I should.
“And what about your relationship with Garrick’s family?” I asked. “You know, since you’re sworn enemies and all. How do you fit in?”
Valerie’s smile returned. “Gerhart and Molly are the best. They’ve treated me like one of their own since day one. Levi, on the other hand...” She scrunched up her nose.
“Is that the brother?” I asked.
Val nodded, but before I could ask what Levi’s problem was, her eyes caught something across the room, and she waved.
I turned to look and my heart caught in my throat. Two of the most attractive men I’d ever seen were walking right for us, one of them with a broad grin on his face, the other looking like he smelled something rancid. I figured he was Levi.
Both were tall, though Levi was taller by an inch or so at around 6’3”. They were broad too. Even with the high ceiling, they seemed to take up all the space in the cafe. They shared the same thick, dark brows, and full mouths, but beyond that, they look like they came from different worlds. Garrick’s hair fell past his ears in dark, messy curls. He sported a tidy beard and wore a plain woolly sweater and jeans.
Levi was like the job interview version of Garrick. His hair was short and combed neatly back from his forehead. He had a strong chin and high cheekbones, features I presumed Garrick shared under all his scruff. His crisp suit and long black peacoat reminded me of a Wall Street banker.
One look at these brothers and I had a million questions. This wedding promised to be one of my most interesting yet.
Val stood to welcome her fiancé, who greeted her with a lingering kiss on the lips and slid down next to her in the booth. Levi realized he was going to have to sit next to me and gave me a once-over. If the set of his brow was any indication, his assessment wasn’t favorable. He sat but didn’t look at me or introduce himself, and I had no problem believing that he made Valerie feel unwelcome.
“Garrick, this is Frankie,” Val introduced.
Garrick shot his hand across the table and shook mine heartily.
“And this is Levi.” Val pointed to the surly man beside me.
To his benefit, Levi did offer up a polite smile and a firm handshake. The moment he dropped my hand, however, I ceased to exist.
I could tell he was going to be a challenge, but I could handle it. I’d picked up the ruined pieces of my life and lugged them across the country to start fresh. How hard could one grumpy groomsman be?
I turned to Valerie. “The date you’ve chosen is Valentine’s Day, right?”
“Yes! That’s when Garrick proposed.” Valerie beamed at my first wedding-related question of the day. “Do you think that’s really cliché?”
“Not at all. The important thing is that you’re having your wedding on a day that means something to you.”
A cursory look to the side confirmed my suspicion that Levi did not share my opinion. Then again, maybe he always looked like that.
We ordered more drinks and moved on to hobbies and general interests. Garrick and Val were enthusiastic contributors to the conversation, and even though they had lots of inside jokes and stories, they made me feel included. I almost forgot we were there for a business meeting. It was a good sign of things to come.
Levi was predictably quiet, but Garrick prompted him to speak now and again. He had a deep, gravelly voice that made me want to lean into every word. Not that I got to hear it much. I wouldn’t say he pretended Valerie and I didn’t exist, but he didn’t act like he’d come out to see us either. I gave up on asking him any questions when I realized he was only going to give me the barest of answers, and since Val didn’t like him he wasn’t a priority of mine anyway. I could deal with him later.
We had another drink before breaking up for the night. We exchanged phone numbers and emails before we parted ways and I promised Val we’d start wedding planning the next day. She gave me another hug before I left, and like she’d left some of her stardust on me, I smiled the whole way back to my office. I didn’t want to go straight home, not when I was feeling so inspired.
Garrick and Val were the couple that every couple wants to be. They were both beautiful and successful, but the kind of love they had for each other gave me confidence that it wouldn’t matter if they lived in a shoebox at the bottom of someone’s yard. You could see it in everything they did, every look they shared. I didn’t always feel like this about my clients, but these two were going to last.
The office was empty. Good. I was in the mood to write. I sat at my desk, kicked off my shoes, and opened my blog.
What had started as a general wedding blog to help drum up business had turned into one of my favorite creative outlets. I had followers all over the world who loved to read about everything from general planning tips to the specific hurdles of my business. I kept the details vague to protect the anonymity of my clients but was otherwise candid about my experiences as a “full service” wedding planner. People ate it up.
Tonight’s entry flowed easily from the tips of my fingers, and only an hour later I posted “The Ten Ways I Can Tell One of My Clients Has Found the One”.
Chapter 4
Frankie
It had been a wet April so far, but Val and I were dress shopping, and no amount of rain was going to dampen our mood. We’d been holed up in a dress shop downtown for the past hour. I sipped tea while Val tried on gowns of every kind.
Val came into the store believing her destiny was a tight-fitting mermaid gown. At my suggestion, she’d gone out of her comfort zone, trying on styles she wouldn’t have spared a thought on before. Even the indecisive bride has an idea of how they want their dress to look, but I always encourage my clients to try a few dresses they never pictured themselves in. Even if nothing came of it, trying on dresses was fun.
The changing room curtain screeched open and Val came out in an elaborate princess gown, studded all over with rhinestones and pearls. As she had in the ones before, she looked gorgeous.
“I feel like a princess,” she said dreamily.
“You look like one.”
She gazed down at the dress, smoothing her hands over the bodice. “You know, I never thought I’d be into the whole princess look, but I don’t think you could pay me to take this off.” She swished the ruffled skirt back and forth, smiling at herself in the mirror. “Do you think Garrick will like it?”
“Garrick would be happy if you walked down the aisle in a potato sack,” I replied, taking a sip of my tea. “But if you’re looking to knock him out, I think this is the one.”
“This is so exciting! My wedding dress for my wedding day.” She released a happy sigh. “I still can’t believe this is all happening. I never thought I could be this happy.”
I put my cup down and stood to give Val a hug. She did it so often to me that somewhere along the line I started giving them back, which was surprising since I never thought I’d one day consider myself a hugger.
“What would I do without you?” Val asked as we pulled apart.
I met her eyes in the mirror and winked. “Have a mental breakdown and run away to join an all-girl rock band probably. I see a great drummer in you.”
“Hell, that doesn’t sound too bad. I’ve always wanted to shave my head.”
“You’ve got the right bone structure for it. And you know, we haven’t decided on your hair for the wedding yet...”
I imagined Valerie strutting down the aisle in a designer princess gown with a shaved head and nose piercing. Unsurprisingly she would look fierce, and Garrick would still be proud to call her his wife. It might be worth it just to see Levi’s reaction.
“You slay me,” Val said, poking me in the shoulder before stepping back into the changing room and pulling the curtain closed.
I settled back onto the couch and glanced out the window. Rain fell in sheets from bloated, gray clouds, and people hurried along the sidewalk with their faces turned to the ground. I didn’t relish the idea of my walk home, but it wouldn’t be Portlan
d without the rain.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” called Val.
“Shoot,” I said, turning back to the front.
“I’m just curious about how you got into wedding planning. Have you ever been married?”
I was used to this question, or some iteration of it. Even though my wedding was the driving force behind what I did now, I never told the full story. I wasn’t sure whether it was because I didn’t want to bum the brides out or because it felt too personal, but I usually skated over top of all the hurt and just cherry-picked the details that worked.
I’m divorced, I would tell them. I was young and a little bit stupid. The wedding was the worst part of the whole thing. My maid of honor let me down, and I started my business so brides like me could have a maid of honor they could count on.
People didn’t usually ask further. The last thing anyone wanted to think about when they were planning the best day of their life was the failure of other people who had done the same thing.
Valerie was different from my other clients. She was more affectionate, more open. It seemed natural to tell her the truth and, more than that, I wanted her to know.
“I was nineteen when I got married, and I was divorced by twenty-two,” I said. “My maid of honor was my best friend from high school. We both had crushes on my husband at one point, but I thought we were well past that. She wasn’t, as it turned out, and all the bitterness she’d been harboring over the years spilled out as we planned for the wedding. She invited people I didn’t want and forgot to send invites to people I did. She persuaded me to buy a dress that was way out of my budget and then I almost couldn’t afford to have it altered. When the big day came, I got cold feet in a big way and had a panic attack. Meanwhile, she was out behind the community hall getting plastered with the groomsmen.” I chuckled to myself. “Ironically, if she had been there she probably would have talked me out of it, which would have been a good thing.”
I gulped as I thought about the next part, and I couldn’t help the sour expression that took over my features. “And then, six months later, I came home early one day and found her in bed with my husband.”
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