by Laura Briggs
Gwen arrived two hours early to help oversee the prep. This included preventing the usual mix-ups: place cards at the wrong tables; menu items paired with guests who were allergic to their dinner’s ingredients. Tonight’s entrée was premium sea food catered by one of the best restaurants in town, with a grilled chicken breast substituted for those who were sensitive to the first selection.
So far, there had been no major debacles. But everyone staffing this evening was on edge, the evening ahead promising to tax their last ounce of professionalism.
At last, Gwen found time to slip away to the powder room and place a personal call, her mind wandering far from business as she listened to Ryan’s voice mail pick up for the second time that evening.
“Ryan, it’s me,” she said, wishing her tone was less anxious. “I’m afraid I’m going to be late. Again. If you’d rather cancel our date, I completely understand.” She paused before adding, “But if you don’t mind meeting after midnight, even, then maybe we can talk. Because there’s something I need to explain about the past few weeks. And we have some decisions to make.”
Apologize for, was more like it. But she didn’t want to broach the depressing details of their floundering wedding on a voice message. This was the kind of conversation you handled face to face.
Sighing, she turned the phone off before slipping it back inside her handbag. There was no more putting off the truth about her and Ryan’s wedding plans. With less than a week between now and Christmas, she couldn’t possibly arrange the many remaining details, and there was no way they could find a suitable place for the ceremony, much less the reception. Bride and groom cakes, the wedding dress, the chapel and reception hall—everything was left unfinished. It was too late, which meant they either had to resort to a no-frills wedding, or postpone it until the new year.
Why, why, why did she take the bait of Grace Taylor’s malicious challenge to heart? She had worked harder than ever before to rescue her career— and it cost her the biggest day of her life, the one she and Ryan would share. Now, no matter how successful her client’s big day turned out to be, Gwen could never truly celebrate it. Not having seen the price tag in her own life.
Not that it would have compared to Erica's, of course. The cosmetics mogul's reception sported thousand dollar china settings and bottles of wine which were a collector and connoisseur's dream. But even the simple ceremony and reception she had envisioned would take more time to plan than she had left.
The sounds of last-minute prep caught her ear in the distance. Now isn’t the time for pouting. And this is definitely not the place. Meeting her reflection in the mirror, Gwen saw a troubled expression that wasn’t befitting of Creative Coordination’s chief event planner. For now, at least, she would have to keep her personal problems to herself. She erased her worried expression with a smile, a calming one meant to reassure the catering staff and Erica's personnel.
An hour later, the guests were being seated. Gwen was stationed one table away from the bride and groom’s crowd, her seatmates various members of the wedding party. Joining in their conversation and laughter was hard, as thoughts of disappointing Ryan flitted through her mind. How could she ever make this up to him?
She couldn’t. Not if she planned the best wedding in the world for them. Ryan just wasn’t the kind of guy to be swayed by grand gestures, his down-to-earth nature one of the things she loved most about him. He would say he wouldn't care, and that she should forget about it. All that mattered was that they were happy together. And the fact that he meant it made her feel better and worse at the same time — better that he was so incredible, and worse that she hadn't worked hard enough to show him how much he meant to her.
But thinking of him like this made her smile for the first time since dinner started.
Partway through dinner, a hand tapped her shoulder. She turned to find the bride hovering anxiously behind her, rare worry lines creasing her brow. “Do you know where Clare is? I haven’t seen her since we started eating.”
Gwen cast an eye at the seat reserved for the bride’s daughter. It was empty, the plate and glass before it untouched.
“She mentioned something about helping you earlier," ventured Erica. "Some kind of project—I didn’t understand what she meant.”
“I have an idea where she is,” Gwen answered, a touch of secrecy in her smile. “And I believe she should be here any moment now.”
“Good.” Relief flooded Erica’s face as she said this. She dropped her voice, adding, “I thought about what you said the other night, and well…Clare and I had a talk afterward. About some things we should have discussed a long time ago. I think things will be better between us now.”
“I’m sure they will,” Gwen said, giving her client’s arm a genial squeeze. In fact, she was more than sure, but didn’t want to say how just yet.
Clare was absent for the rest of dinner. The wait staff appeared, replacing dinner plates with dessert. Guests received either a chocolate or classic slice of cheesecake, strawberry syrup drizzled across the top.
Gwen didn’t sample hers, waiting for the servers to depart before she slipped from her chair. She moved towards the stage at the front of the room, its curtains still pulled shut.
Checking her watch, she signaled to a member of the sound crew, who brought her a wireless mic. A second later, the pop of sound equipment replacing the recorded music drew the guests’ attention.
Gwen’s stilettos teetered slightly as she climbed the steps to the stage. A wave of nervousness engulfed her at the thought of addressing all these people. Celebrities and business elite were among the crowd, along with members from society’s upper crust.
Her voice was calm when it came through the mic, however. “Ladies and Gentleman, good evening,” she said, “and thank you for being here to celebrate with Erica and Brock tonight.” Polite applause, a few cheers. Gwen continued, “As the bride and groom’s event planner, I have the honor of introducing tonight’s musical entertainment.”
Interested murmurs arose. No doubt, they were picturing someone famous, given the happy couple’s celebrity status. She knew they would never guess who actually waited behind the closed curtains.
Smiling, Gwen told them, “Not only will they grace us with their talent this evening, but they’ll serenade the bride and groom as they take their first dance as husband and wife. Finding the perfect performer for such a special event was no easy feat, I assure you.” Gentle laughter met this comment, proving word had spread of the couple’s difficulty finding a band for the reception. A cursed experience, almost, though Gwen would never say this aloud. "But I think this is the perfect choice," said Gwen, "especially for the two people who will be united with vows of love shortly."
Erica was among those who were smiling, along with the groom. "It was well worth the wait to find these performers," Gwen continued. "And I think you'll understand why when you hear them perform.”
Her eyes locked briefly with her client as she said this. Seeing a cross between confusion and curiosity in Erica’s glance before she advised the audience, “Please give a warm welcome to Brillstone High's Acoustic Trio, and their special musical guest, Ms. Clare Hilbourne.”
Shocked silence followed. Gwen heard the first sound of applause, growing louder each second, as the curtains drew back to reveal the performers onstage.
Accompanied by a violinist, a drummer, and acoustic guitar player—fellow music students from her school—Clare was poised in front of the mic stand. She wore the pink pastel dress and a simple pearl necklace, her thick hair wound into a ‘60s style updo. Beneath her slanted bangs, the girl’s features were brushed lightly in subtle shades of makeup. Low-key and classy—the perfect look for someone with Clare’s shy nature, and dressy enough that even Erica would approve.
Looking slightly nervous, Clare leaned towards the mic. Her glance rested briefly on Gwen, who offered a wink from the shadows at the bottom of the stage. Clare closed her eyes, her lips parting as the guitari
st plucked the opening notes to the Beatles’ song, ‘If I Fell.'
Her voice emerged in low but sure tones. A rich contralto, smooth and deep. It wavered here and there, but never for very long. By the time she reached the chorus, there was no denying the tender ache that swelled to reach the heights of the classic love ballad.
One hand touched the microphone, the other softly tapping against her side. Her eyes stayed downcast, a technique her music teacher advised for coping with stage fright, as Clare had informed Gwen before. It seemed to be working, since her voice seldom missed a cue from the instruments. For the first time since Gwen had known the girl, she saw a look of perfect relaxation and contentment on her face. Clare belonged up here. This was her place in the wedding, her place in the world. It was music.
As Gwen’s gaze roamed the audience, she could see looks of surprise on the crowd's faces. Guests traded whispers of disbelief; a few of them were already recording the performance on their cell phones and cameras. She could see smiles of enjoyment.
Erica was leaning forward, her eyes fixed on the stage with an overwhelming expression of shock and amazement. Tears shone brightly in her eyes, a few of them slipping free as her daughter sang. Beside her, Brock wore a smile of awkward pride as he listened.
Loud applause erupted with the song’s last note. The performer smiled shyly in response, hand lifting to return a wave from the bride and groom. Erica was the first one on her feet, applauding her daughter with a standing ovation — Gwen saw Clare blush, and the first glimpse of tears forming in the girl's eyes as she ducked her head, shyly.
The audience was still clapping as the band struck up the next song, another familiar classic, a little more upbeat. Clare had recovered her composure again, her hand beating the rhythm softly against her body as she sang the opening line.
From across the room, Gwen’s client caught her eye, mouthing the words ‘thank you,’ as she beamed with pride. The wedding planner smiled in response, her eyes a little teary.
*****
“We can’t thank you enough. I mean it.” Erica's voice trembled. "For everything you've done. There are no words, really."
Gwen blushed at her client’s gushing remarks. The dinner was over now, the last of the guests waiting for the valets to bring their cars at the building’s entrance. Only the catering crew remained, along with Erica’s staff and family members. And the bride herself, who had hugged Gwen in a burst of grateful emotion.
Wiping tears away, Erica told her, “That was the best wedding present I could hope for. Just perfect. I haven't seen Clare smile like that since ... well, since a very long time ago now.”
“I was happy to do it,” Gwen assured her. “Your daughter is very talented.” This with a smile for Clare, who moved shyly to join her mother. The two had been sitting together ever since the performance ended.
“She is, isn’t she?” her client replied, her arm wrapped around Clare's shoulders. Erica wore a happier look than Gwen had seen the whole duration of planning this wedding. The smile was what made the difference. It was real, unlike the ones she flashed her work crew, and the press reporters who waited to stalk her as soon as tomorrow’s ceremony was over.
The groom approached and shook hands with Gwen. His grin looked as genuine as the others did, if a trifle more sleepy. “You really outdid yourself,” he told her. “The dinner went perfectly. And as for you”—wrapping an arm around his future stepdaughter momentarily — “how could you keep that talent a secret all this time? Your mom never breathed a word about it. I've never even heard you singing around the house before, much less getting onstage with a band.”
"Guess I just didn't think anyone was listening," answered Clare. But for the first time, Gwen saw her meet Brock's eye, and give him a little smile which was real, even if it was brief.
“I didn’t realize it existed, actually,” said Erica. “But now I won’t ever forget it. I think we need to see more of it in the future. A lot more of it."
Clare rolled her eyes, but Gwen could tell she was thrilled by the smile she was hiding. This was her moment to shine, after all. Her way of breaking free of that cocoon that hid so much of her real self from the world, and proving that beauty could exist outside of flawless fashion and makeup products.
She glanced at Gwen. "Thanks," she said, softly.
"It was a pleasure," Gwen answered. "And I think you'll do beautifully at the wedding."
“We should say goodnight,” the groom was saying. "The big day is almost here." He put his arm around Erica's shoulders, the other one around Clare's as he led them towards the lobby.
“Yes, it is,” Gwen agreed. Knowing just how much detail went in to planning the million dollar event, right down to the designer eye shadow the bride would wear. A wry smile tugged her lips as she remembered the journalist’s article which had detailed the cost of the cosmetics mogul's wedding day beauty regiment.
As her clients walked to the lobby doors, Gwen found herself watching them with a smile. Thinking to herself, They’re becoming a real family now. They could actually make this work.
A thought she would’ve taken a lot more pleasure in, had it not been for her own relationship woes, and the terrible truth she had to break to Ryan as soon as she saw him again.
*****
Gwen knocked at Ryan’s apartment door, surprised to see a strip of light still shone beneath it. Her watch showed it was well past midnight, but Ryan opened the door before she could knock again. His smile brimming with affection, he pulled her into a hug.
“You made it,” he said, guiding her into the narrow hall where his winter coat and scarf were stashed. Helping her out of her coat, he hung it on the nearby rack, seeming not to notice her worried expression. With a grin, he said, “It seemed a little late for cocoa, but there’s chocolate if you’re hungry. That raspberry kind you’re so crazy about.”
“Ryan, I’m so sorry,” she began. “The rehearsal dinner ran late, and then I had to oversee the prep for tomorrow. I tried to call you, but your phone kept going to voice mail.”
He shook his head. “It’s just a movie. We can catch it another time.”
“It’s more than that.” She could feel her shoulders sagging. “I ruined everything, Ryan. The wedding dress, the chapel, the cakes. Everything went wrong.”
“What do you mean?” His face was serious. Probably, he thought she was still talking about tomorrow’s ceremony. How much more upset would he be to learn it was their own special day she had made a mess of? Only one way to know.
She pulled in a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say, is that Erica Hilbourne’s wedding is right on schedule—but Gwendolen Lynch’s isn’t.” She hesitated. "We have nothing, Ryan. Nothing to show for the big day."
Ryan’s face was blank, as if it hadn’t fully sunk in. On the verge of tears, Gwen continued, “We can’t get married in time for Christmas. Ms. Hilbourne’s wedding was too much for me to handle and still plan our ceremony. It all got put on the back burner for someone else’s big day. The cake, the dress, the ceremony site — it's too late for all of it. I made phone calls, and I tried to put things together, but everything we wanted was already gone.” She blinked back tears, furiously. "I'm so sorry. So sorry."
She had admitted it: the city’s next big event planner had bungled her own wedding plans. An irony that might be funny to some, but it made Gwen want to let her tears go and cry as hard as she could. Especially when she considered that most of it had stemmed from a ridiculous bet with Grace Taylor. The realization of her tyrannical former boss’ impending defeat wasn’t enough to make this moment worth it to her.
Ryan’s silence was painful. Holding back her tears wouldn’t work much longer. Before they could overwhelm her, she tried to go on. "I'll make it up to us. I'll plan the perfect wedding for us, only it will be a little later than we hoped — or we can have a civil ceremony and throw something together at my apartment last-minute —"
“Forget all that for a minute,” Rya
n soothed, taking her hand. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“But Ryan—”
“Come on.” He winked, tugging her in the direction of his living room.
Frowning, Gwen followed him. Why wasn’t he upset? She had just confessed to postponing their wedding, even though their families had already changed their holiday plans for the ceremony, purchasing plane tickets and booking accommodations. Everyone would be upset with them, especially when they found out why it happened.
But all this left her head the instant they turned the corner.
There, draped across a chair beside the Christmas tree was the wedding gown.
The one she admired in the dressing room mirror at Bridal Boutique. The perfect dress from her dreams, with a big red bow affixed to its protective garment bag. Its sleek design and subtle beading shone through its plastic covering, beckoning her closer. Gwen lifted the bag slowly, resisting the urge to hug it against her, bewildered how it came to be here when she had pictured another lucky bride snatching it up.
Ryan spoke from beside her. “The clerk vouched for it being a perfect fit. And said you were pretty much head over heels for it, as far as she could tell.”
She couldn’t speak. Her eyes blinked, expecting to see a different dress in its place, a less perfect version of the one that took her breath away those times she saw it at the shop. It was real, though, and so was the man who somehow guessed it was the one she wanted out of all the possibilities available.
“I know it’s kind of risky for the groom to handle the wedding plans,” Ryan continued, hands tucked in his trouser pockets, “but most of it was your idea anyway. I just finalized some of the details with the dress shop and chapel.”
“You booked the chapel too?” She turned to face him, finding her voice at last. “But — but when I called them last week they said it was too late. Another couple had booked it.”
