Chester stared at him for a few seconds. “Right,” he said eventually, appearing slightly mollified. “Well, I guess that makes sense. We can crunch some figures and let you have them, if that sounds okay?”
“And then we’ll let you have some more detailed information on the logo and its use,” Max said quickly.
“Yes. Good. Very good,” Chester said.
“And then we can meet again in a couple of weeks?” Max suggested.
Again, Chester nodded. “Well, okay then. Sounds good to me.”
Immediately Anthony stood up and ushered him out of the meeting room, followed swiftly by Marcia.
Max and I regarded each other cautiously.
“Well, that was a bit intense,” I said, attempting a smile. “Glad you managed to convince him he didn’t need the answers to everything right now.”
“I didn’t convince him of anything. I just managed to stop him from firing us here and now,” Max said tightly.
“Firing us? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not. The only ridiculous thing today was your presentation. What were you thinking, Jess?”
I reddened. “It wasn’t ridiculous. Okay, I hadn’t crossed all the t’s and dotted all the i’s…”
“You hadn’t done anything,” Max said, standing up. “You embarrassed the firm.”
“Who embarrassed the firm?” Anthony asked, coming back in. “Max old boy, watch what you say won’t you?”
“No, I won’t,” Max said angrily. “Jess was a disgrace today and she knows it. You know it. And I’m not afraid to say it.”
“There are ways and means,” Anthony said, his voice low.
“So you think I was a disgrace?” I demanded, staring at Anthony. Bloody Max. Bloody, bloody Max.
“No, of course not,” Anthony said immediately, walking over and putting his arm around me. “You were wonderful. Chester’s expectations were just—”
“Not met,” Max interrupted. “At all.”
“Max, have you thought that maybe Jess has had other things on her mind?” I looked up to see Marcia walk back into the room. She smiled at me supportively. “That she’s maybe been a bit preoccupied, what with Sean, Anthony, the wedding…”
“We all have personal lives,” Max said coolly.
“Really?” Marcia asked sweetly. “I didn’t think it was your bag.”
“So is that why your presentation was complete waffle?” Max demanded, ignoring Marcia and turning to me.
“Yes,” I said defensively. “I’ve had a lot on my plate. I guess I just didn’t manage to do as much research as I’d hoped, but—”
“As much as you’d hoped? You had nothing,” Max said, looking at me in disgust.
“Max, give Jess a break, for God’s sake. Marcia’s right—it’s far too much to expect you to run an account and organize a wedding.”
“Oh no,” I said quickly. “I mean, I can do both. I just—”
“Exactly,” Marcia cut in. “It’s far too much. Let me help.”
“Marvelous,” Max said with a sigh. “Why not give the account to Marcia and we can all sleep a bit easier in our beds. I mean, it’s only the biggest account we’ve won in a year.”
“Marvelous,” Anthony said enthusiastically. “Marcia will take on Project Handbag so Jess can concentrate on organizing caterers. Flowers. Whatever else you need at a wedding.”
My face fell. “What? No! I mean, there’s no need, really…”
“Yes, there is a need,” Anthony said sternly. “Jess, I don’t want you stressed out before our wedding. I want you glowing and blushing. Marcia, you can take over, can’t you?”
“Of course I can,” Marcia said, a hint of resignation in her voice and a little twinkle in her eye. “More work for me, but hey, I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”
“But…but…” I started to say. This wasn’t going the way it was meant to. Project Handbag was my account; Marcia would wreck it. I may have been a bit preoccupied for a week or two, but Marcia did nothing period. I looked at Max beseechingly—he had to know it was a terrible idea. He hated Marcia. He thought she was a complete waste of space.
But Max didn’t look back at me; he just shook his head. “But nothing,” he said, standing up and walking out of the room. “Like you said, Jess, you’ve been busy. Now you’re free to focus on what’s important. To you, that is.”
Chapter 23
OBVIOUSLY I DIDN’T really care about losing Project Handbag. I mean, sure, it was my first account; sure the whole “Project Handbag” thing was my idea; sure it would have been nice to see it through. But in the great scheme of things it really didn’t matter; I was going to be Mrs. Milton. I was going to be a happily married millionaire. Or just a millionaire. A happy millionaire who was also married. Either way things were just fine. Really fine.
And anyway, I found myself thinking the next day when Marcia mentioned for the fifth time how pleased she was to help me out with the Project Handbag account, I’d never realized how much organization went into a wedding. There were the invitations, the meal plans, the flowers, the gift list, the dress, the color of the napkins, and that wasn’t even the half of it. Determinedly, I flicked through the magazines Gillie had placed on my desk, reading articles like “Countdown to Your Wedding—the 18-Month Plan.” Only I had to do it in weeks, not months. I was going to be busy busy busy.
“Look at this…flowers for the bride!”
I turned to see Gillie carrying a huge bouquet, which she set down on the middle of my desk. “They’re not from Anthony,” she said with a glint in her eye. “I checked.”
“You checked?”
She blanched slightly. “Just looking out for you, that’s all.”
Marcia, who seemed determined to become my new best friend, peered over the top of her desk and frowned. “Who are they from, then?” she demanded.
Carefully I opened the card and read it out. To my darling Jess. A better man has won your heart. I wish you happiness forever. Sean. I managed to stifle a giggle. “Thanks, Gillie.”
Marcia rolled her eyes. “Well, at least he knows the situation. Honestly, Jess, you need to watch him. I think he could turn out to be a stalker.”
I nodded sagely. “Yeah, thanks, Marcia, I’ll bear that in mind.”
“So look, I got you these,” Gillie continued breathlessly. From behind her back she pulled out three more wedding magazines, which she spread in front of me. “We’ve got a lot to think about, you know. Dress, bridesmaids, venue, food, wedding favors…”
“Wedding favors?” I asked nervously. “Isn’t that what goes on…you know…on the honeymoon?”
Gillie looked at me for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Oh, you are funny,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Wedding favors. Presents for your guests. And you’ll need a good photographer, too. Are you going to have an engagement party?”
I looked at her uncertainly. “Um—” I started, but Gillie wasn’t listening.
“You have to have an engagement party,” she said. “And I think you should make it black-tie…I love men in dinner suits, don’t you, Marcia?”
Marcia nodded. “Definitely. Engagement parties are de rigueur these days. Aren’t they, Anthony?”
I turned around to see Anthony approaching; Gillie pulled herself up quickly. “Hi, Anthony,” she said, smiling brightly. “We were just talking about your impending nuptials! So exciting. So much for Jess here to think about. Like, I was wondering if you were going to have an engagement party. A black-tie one?”
“A black-tie engagement party, eh?” Anthony grinned. “Great idea! And I know just the people to organize it. Party Party Party.”
“Party Party Party?” I looked at him blankly. Was it a mantra? A philosophy?
“Best event planners in London,” Anthony said briskly. “They do all the best weddings. I was on the phone to Fenella, one of their event managers, this morning, and she told me that they said they can take care of the whole lot for us. I mean, if w
e’re going to do it, we might as well do it properly, wouldn’t you say?”
“They’re going to organize our wedding?” I blanched.
“Oh, fantastic idea,” Marcia breathed. “They’re the best. Really great. My cousin used them last year.”
“Did they?” Anthony’s eyes twinkled slightly. “Well, what a great recommendation.” He looked at me and smiled. “Apparently they did Elton’s wedding, too, although they can’t admit it officially. It’s perfect—I mean, if we’re going to have a big wedding, we need to make sure it’s done properly, don’t we? So what do you think?”
I cleared my throat. “But I would do things properly,” I said uncertainly. Then something occurred to me. “Although maybe it’s a good idea to use a third party,” I added quickly. “I mean, if they take care of the wedding, that would free me up to concentrate on Project Handbag, wouldn’t it?”
Marcia laughed. “God, Jess, you’re a scream,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Of course you won’t have time for Project Handbag. There’s still loads to do. You’ll have to manage Party Party Party, for starters. I mean, you’re still the boss; they’re like your team. And there’s things like the gift list and your dress.”
“Gift list and dress,” I said, telling myself for the tenth time that day that my wedding was more important than a silly work project.
“And the flowers,” Anthony said immediately. “I think you should do the flowers. Add that personal touch.”
“The flowers.” I forced another smile.
“Atta girl. Fenella’s got your details, so expect a call any minute.” Anthony gave me a little punch on the shoulder just as Max wandered over to Marcia’s desk; I immediately looked away.
“So, Max,” Anthony said. “Coming to our engagement party? I’ve just signed up Party Party Party to organize it. And the wedding.”
“Party Party Party? Sounds expensive,” Max said. “Planning to remortgage the company again?”
Marcia looked up sharply; Anthony rolled his eyes. “Maxy, Maxy,” he said dismissively. “Don’t you worry about the money. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“I’m sure it is,” Max said archly. “But try not to charge the event to the company this time? Tax men don’t like it too much, however inconvenient it seems. Now, Marcia, are you free later to talk presentations? Say three PM?”
Marcia nodded vaguely, and Max walked off toward the stairs.
“Don’t mind him,” Anthony said, rolling his eyes. “He’s always been focused on the detail.” Winking, he made his way back to his office.
Fenella called twenty minutes later. She had the kind of voice that immediately intimidated me—one of those smart, confident drawls that only very beautiful people with double-barreled surnames seem to have. And while I knew that she was working for me, while she said several times that this was my wedding and that she was just an “enabler,” by the end of the phone call I seemed to have promised to abide by her to-do list and assured her that I wouldn’t let her down on the planning side. Two seconds after I put the phone down, an e-mail pinged into my inbox:
Jess,
SO great to talk to you just now. I know this is just going to be THE MOST FABULOUS wedding, and I’m really excited to be part of it. My role is to make everything seamless for you and Anthony so anything I can help you with, just let me know. In the meantime, if you could get back to me soonest on the list below that would be just GREAT!
All the best,
Fen
1. Engagement party—what do you think about holding it at Boasters? It’s a fresh new private members’ club in St. James, very hot, and very free next Saturday (!)—they’re holding our reservation. I’m assuming free bar? And I’m assuming e-mailed invitations? It’s all a bit last minute, isn’t it?!
2. Color scheme. As we discussed, green and red are going to be our critical colors for this wedding. I was thinking of using Pantone numbers 1805 and 3435—can you check you’re happy with these? Please check these carefully because once agreed, changes will be incredibly difficult to accommodate. However, I’m sure you’re going to love them. I do!
3. Cravats for the groom’s party or bow ties? Or shall I run this by Anthony for you?
4. Your dress—can you get me a fabric swatch? Need to make sure it works with the theme. If you want to send me a selection, I’ll be happy to give you my feedback.
5. Veil—yes or no? Long or short? Need to know so can replicate on the wedding cake.
6. Rehearsal dinner—would you prefer a dress code of black tie or cocktail dress?
7. Flowers: Anthony said you’re doing flowers. Just want to clarify—you’re using a florist, right? I’ll e-mail over my recommendations—please ensure you give them the Pantone numbers and put them in touch with me.
I looked at the list and felt my heart quicken. I had no idea what my answers were to a single one of her questions. I hadn’t covered any of those things in my project plan.
Immediately I called Helen.
“Do I want cravats or bow ties?” I asked breathlessly.
“What?”
“For the wedding. Fenella needs to know and I have no idea, Hel. And she wants a fabric swatch of my dress.”
“Fenella?”
“My wedding planner.”
“You have a wedding planner now?”
“Yes,” I said impatiently. “And she’s asking me all these questions and I don’t know what to say. So you have to help me. Cravats or bow ties and swatches.”
“But you haven’t chosen your dress yet. We’re doing that next week.”
“I know. But she wants everything now. And she’s organizing an engagement party for Saturday night.”
“She is?”
“Yes. At Boasters. I don’t even know where it is.”
“Oh, relax, Jess. I’m sure she’ll send you a little map. Anyway, just remember, in a few weeks you’re going to be a millionaire. You need to get used to people working for you.”
“She’s given me Pantone numbers.”
“Cool! You should get her to decorate Grace’s house after the wedding.”
“You think?”
“Sure, put your stamp on it. New sofas, new curtains. Jess, it’s going to be so much fun.”
“New sofas…” My voice trailed off as an image of me and Anthony moving into Grace’s house suddenly filled my head.
“Jess? Are you okay?”
“Sure. Completely okay,” I assured her. “I just…”
“Just what?”
“You think the marriage is going to work?” I whispered into the receiver. “I mean, I’m actually getting married.”
“You’ve only just realized that?” Helen said, laughing.
“No, but…”
“It’ll be fine,” Helen said reassuringly. “He’s gorgeous, you’re gorgeous, and it’s going to be fabulous.”
“You’re right,” I said, nodding to myself as I forced my eyes to focus back on Fenella’s list. Anthony was spending so much money on the wedding—I couldn’t possibly let him down. “I’m going to be Mrs. Milton,” I said firmly. “And I’m going to be really happy.”
“Atta girl,” Helen said cheerfully. “Oh, and by the way?”
“What?”
“Cravats. Bow ties are just so last century.”
Chapter 24
PROJECT: MARRIAGE DAY 28
To do
1. Go to engagement party.
2. Meet Fenella.
3. Be happy…
Boasters wasn’t just a “fresh new private members’ club.” It was the newest, freshest place in London. It was so über-cool that Helen and I couldn’t actually find it for half an hour; it was only when Ivana arrived and pointed out the sleek black door with no markings that we realized where it was.
Now, I’ll admit that inviting Ivana may not have been one of my proudest moments, but when Fenella rang to apologize that she probably wouldn’t be able to meet up with me in person before the party becaus
e there was so much to organize but that she was desperately excited and that we’d have coffee “soonest,” she asked me to e-mail over my guest list for the party. And even though I figured that everyone from Milton Advertising kind of counted as my guests as well as Anthony’s, I just couldn’t send over one, single, solitary name (Helen’s). She might think I didn’t have many friends or something. So I found myself giving her Ivana’s, too. And Sean’s. Worse than that, I got all intimidated talking to Fenella and found myself making up some utterly crap excuse for my short guest list. I told her that everyone I knew seemed to be out of the country skiing or lapping up some sunshine somewhere, and I was convinced that she knew I was lying, even though she said, “Oh, God, I know exactly what you mean—everyone I know keeps dashing off on holiday, too, and I’ve only made it to Gstaad twice this year, which is totally unfair, but what are you going to do?”
As we approached the door to the club, Ivana stopped me and narrowed her eyes.
“This your engagement party,” she said, grabbing my shoulders. “You no looking like it.”
“I’m not?” I asked anxiously
“Your shoulders, they are too far forward,” she interrupted me. “They must be back.”
I rolled my eyes. “If I don’t lean forward slightly, my breasts look like tornadoes,” I said, shooting a look at Helen, with whom I’d argued for hours over what I was wearing—she had, eventually, allowed me to wear a demure little black dress but had insisted on squeezing me into a bra that looked like something out of an S&M film.
“Let me see,” Ivana demanded, and I duly showed her. “Hmmm. I em liking the bra,” she said, scrutinizing me. “The dress not so much. But you…No. Is no good.”
“No good? Why? Have I got food in my teeth?”
Ivana raised an eyebrow. “No. But you heff look in your eye I recognize. Is fear.”
“I’m not afraid,” I said defensively. “Just, you know, a bit nervous. I’m meeting all of Anthony’s friends. I’m sure he’s nervous about meeting…well, meeting you.”
The Importance of Being Married: A Novel Page 21
