Confessions of a Wedding Musician Mom

by Jennifer McCoy Blaske

  Angela looked around at all the smoke. “Wow. Does this always happen when people cook?”

  “So the fire engines aren’t coming?” Danny was still staring hopefully out the window.

  “No fire engines.” I grabbed a magazine out of the rack in the living room and flapped it through the smoky air. It did no good at all.

  “Heather, what happened?” asked Steve.

  “I was making garlic bread,” I said, giving the smoke a few more swats with the magazine before I gave up and tossed the magazine back into the rack. “But then I got a phone call from a woman who wants me to play the piano at her wedding. She kept fighting with her mother while we were on the phone, and …” I clapped my hand over my mouth again. “I’ll be right back!”

  I darted back down the hall and snatched the phone up from the night table. “Hello? Susan? Are you still there? Hello?” It was too late. She’d hung up. “No no no no …”

  I hit the call return button. Of course the call went straight to Susan’s voice mail. No doubt she was already on the phone speaking with other pianists who were not in the process of almost burning down their houses.

  “Hi Susan,” I babbled to her voice mail. “It’s Heather Hershey, the wedding pianist. Sorry about that. We just had a little emergency. Well, not really an emergency,” I added quickly since this was probably the last word a bride wanted to hear a potential wedding vendor say. “It’s just that I had some garlic bread under the broiler and I forget to set the timer and … I mean, not that I typically forget things! I’m normally very responsible. We always file our taxes in late March, and I usually fill my gas tank before the light ever comes on. It’s just that today was practically my first time ever cooking anything. I know that sounds weird, but my mother never let us do anything in the kitchen when I was a kid, and now I totally understand why because I just tried to cook with my kids and ended up practically throwing them out of the room, and, uh … well … well, actually, none of that is important. What is important is that I’d love to play for your wedding. So please call me back.”

  I hung up the phone and rolled my eyes. Oh yeah, my rambling message is really going to make her want to hire me now, I thought.

  After the smoke had mostly cleared, Steve closed the windows and I dumped a bag of salad into a bowl. Finally, we sat down to dinner.

  “We helped Mommy make this lasagna,” Danny said proudly.

  “No kidding? What did you do?” asked Steve.

  Danny thought for a moment. “I got out the pan.”

  “You did a good job.” Steve cut a slice of lasagna and put it on Danny’s plate. “Very nice pan. Evenly shaped, smooth sides, and just the right size. How did you get so good at this? Did you attend the Culinary School for Proper Pan Selection?”

  “No.” Danny laughed.

  Steve turned to me. “So what happened with the wedding job?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think I’ll be hearing from her again. But you know, I think it’s probably just as well. Something tells me she might have been a difficult bride to work with.”

  I scooped some lasagna onto Angela’s plate and put some on my plate. I studied it carefully. It looked normal, at least. It smelled fine. It was so much work, and I knew I’d feel so stupid if we had to dump it in the trash. Please, please don’t let it taste horrible, I thought. Please, please, don’t let it …

  “It’s good,” said Steve.

  “It is?” I took a bite. “It is good! I can’t believe it! Do you kids like it?”

  “Uh-huh,” Danny grunted, shoveling some into his mouth.

  Angela nodded. “We did a good job.”

  “I did it!” I said, laughing. “I actually did it! It worked! So you can screw up when you cook, and it still might come out okay! Ha! Who knew?”

  Everybody was too busy chewing to answer.

  “The bridal show is coming up next weekend,” I said, “so I’ll be getting wedding jobs soon. Yes!” I punched the air with my fist. “Things are finally starting to look up.”

  Chapter Seven

  The cost of the Beautiful Bridal Bazaar didn’t end with the registration fee. Not only did I order another batch of business cards, I got a hundred brochures designed and printed, I ordered a six-foot sign for the booth, and I bought a floral centerpiece to set in the middle of the table.

  I’d hoped to try out my new keyboard, thinking it would be the perfect way to draw people in. However, vendors weren’t allowed to play music because it could disrupt the other vendors’ booths. I figured that was just as well since I would need to be able to focus on talking to people and answering questions.

  I straightened my display for about the fourth time. The main doors opened and I took a deep breath and gave a big smile as people came streaming into the room.

  Most of the attendees were women, although there were a few men here and there. Nearly all the men looked a little dazed, or like they were bracing themselves for a long, tiring afternoon.

  The young women were eagerly looking around the room, taking everything in as they clutched the swag bags they’d received in the lobby. They would smile and nudge their friends as they pointed to things in the handout and map. Certain displays caught their attention, making their eyes light up.

  As people started heading in my general direction, they looked happy and excited and ready for a day of fun. A few gave the items on my table a quick look, but they barely even slowed down as they walked right past my booth.

  A cluster of women stopped at the next booth—Bridal Bubbles and Bells—without even a glance in my direction. Hmm, I thought, maybe I need to be a little more aggressive.

  I stood as close to the aisle as I could without actually blocking traffic or getting run over. “Hello!” I sang, smiling so wide that it almost hurt. “Good afternoon!” I was trying my best to make eye contact with anyone.

  People were flooding around the next booth. What on Earth was going on over there? What was their secret? I shuffled a few steps to the right, leaned over, and craned my neck to try to catch a glimpse of what was attracting all these people.

  “Excuse me, are you the pianist?”

  I spun around in the direction of the voice. A pleasant-looking middle-aged woman was eyeing me inquisitively.

  “Yes. Yes, I am,” I said, getting myself into my official professional and friendly stance. “I’m Heather Hershey.” I plucked one of my brochures off the table and handed it to her.

  She adjusted her glasses as she read the brochure.

  “So,” I said, trying to sound perky, “are you here helping your daughter plan her wedding?”

  She looked up at me, surprised. “What?”

  “I said, are you planning your daughter’s …” my voice trailed off as her smile vanished and she cringed, “wedding?” I squeaked, guessing my mistake too late.

  “It’s my wedding,” she said quietly.

  “Yes … yes of course it is. I didn’t mean …”

  “Have a nice day,” she said, flinging my brochure on the table and hurrying off.

  “Wait!” I called after her. “I didn’t mean that you look … I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being a bride who is, uh …” I gave up. There was nothing I could say that wouldn’t make this even worse.

  Bridal show lesson one: Never assume anything.

  People certainly weren’t lining up wanting to speak with me. So why were other booths swamped? It had to be more than just the services they were offering. I mean, was everyone really dying to have paper lanterns at their wedding?

  I decided that leaving my booth unattended for a few minutes to do some investigating was worth the risk. I stepped into the flow of traffic to take a little tour.

  I began peeking through the crowds at the different tables. Happily Ever After Wedding Planning had a platter of cheese and crackers in the middle of their table. Let Them Eat Wedding Cake had a person sitting behind the table and another one standing in front with a tray of sample petit fours
. Bride and Bouquet Floral had a blue and white basket filled with Dove Miniatures chocolates and a pretty bouquet tied on top.

  No wonder people were drawn to the other booths. All the other vendors were feeding everybody!

  I rushed to the nearest corner of the room and whipped out my cell phone.

  “Hello,” said Steve.

  “I need your help!” I yelped. It sounded like the TV was on in the background. I turned to face the wall so I wasn’t screaming into the faces of passersby. “I need you to bring food!”

  “What?” Steve asked. “You’re hungry?”

  “No! Not for me. For my booth. No one’s stopping at my booth. I need to lure them in with food.”

  “Hang on a minute, I can barely hear you. Danny, turn the TV down. Danny! Turn it down. Okay, what now?”

  “I need food,” I wailed. “Everyone else is giving away food, so nobody’s even stopping to talk to me. Well, there was this one woman, but I ended up insulting her and she got upset and walked away and then …”

  “You insulted someone who came up to your booth?”

  “I didn’t mean to insult her. Never mind, I’ll explain later. Just help me figure out what to do. We spent hundreds of dollars for me to be here today, and we don’t even have the money, and now I might as well have taken that money and ripped it into tiny little pieces and flushed it down the toilet because I don’t have any food and no one’s coming to my booth and …”

  “Wait,” Steve said, “just calm down, Heather. Stop talking for a minute.”

  I sniffled.

  “So … you want me to bring you food to pass out to people?”

  “Uh-huh,” I whimpered.

  He took a deep breath and let it out. Finally, he said, “Heather, where is this place, exactly?”

  “The Waverly Center. Down past the river, off exit seventy-nine, a few miles past the airport.”

  “That’s almost a forty minute drive. By the time I get the kids piled into the car, and we head to the store, and …” He took another deep breath. “Look, can’t you figure out some other way to get people to talk to you?”

  “Maybe,” I said in a small voice. He was right, of course. By the time he bought something, drove down here, and found my booth, the bridal show would practically be over.

  “And … look,” he said, “try to calm down, okay? Nobody’s going to want to hire you if you act like a basket case.”

  I cleared my throat, made one last sniff, and said, “Thanks. I’ll be all right. Maybe instead of food I can … uh …”

  “Jump on the table and start singing? That would get people’s attention.”

  “Maybe not that,” I said with a small smile. “But I’ll figure out something.”

  “Good luck. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I shut my phone off and started walking back to my booth. I turned the corner at Luminous Paper Lanterns and Parasols and headed past Dreamy Destination Weddings.

  Steve is right, I thought. I had to pull myself together. I could still do this. Just because no one had stopped to talk to me yet didn’t mean it was all over. Having no refreshments at my booth just meant I would have to try a little harder to get people’s attention.

  I returned to my booth, took a deep breath, and smiled my biggest smile. Then I said to no one in particular, “Hi, I’m Heather! Tell me a little bit about your upcoming wedding!”

  A tall woman wearing a green scarf and holding a Manila folder hesitated. She glanced at me, then my sign.

  “You’re what … a musician?” she asked.

  I picked up a business card and brochure and held them out to her, beaming. “Yes! I play the piano for ceremonies, cocktail hours, and receptions. Classical, pop, whatever style you like.”

  “Oh. We’re having a DJ handle all our music,” she said as she walked away.

  My smile faded. I set the business card and brochure back on the table. No worries, I told myself, there are lots and lots of people here. I’ll just move on to the next one.

  “Hi!” I called out to the sea of people, handing my business cards and brochures to anyone who would take them. “Consider live piano music for your ceremony and cocktail hour.”

  A guy and girl who were holding hands approached me. They looked like they were barely twenty years old.

  “Hi,” the girl said. “Can we talk to you for a minute? We’re looking for a musician for our ceremony.”

  Yes! Yes! Finally, a real, true potential lead. Someone who is actually looking for a pianist.

  “Certainly.” I was so excited I was trying to resist the urge to bounce up and down on my toes. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourselves and your wedding.”

  “Okay,” she said, looking at the guy and smiling. “I’m Brandy and this is my fiancé, Peter.”

  “What do you charge?” Peter asked.

  “We’re on a tight budget,” Brandy explained. She sounded apologetic.

  “Well, of course,” I said, pleased with how professional I sounded. “Anybody planning a wedding has to consider their budget. Depending on what services you’re looking for, my prices range from …”

  “We were hoping to spend no more than fifty dollars,” Peter interrupted.

  “Fifty dollars?” No, wait. I must’ve heard him wrong. “I’m sorry. Did you say a hundred fifty dollars?”

  “No,” he said, giving me a bewildered look. “I said fifty dollars.”

  “Right … fifty dollars.” I was trying my best to keep my expression completely neutral so that I wouldn’t look as horrified as I felt.

  “Yeah,” said Brandy, “we just need someone to play for about ten minutes.”

  “Not even,” Peter said. “Just long enough for three bridesmaids to come down the aisle, and then Brandy’s entrance. So what is that … five, maybe six or seven minutes at the most?”

  “Yeah, probably.” Brandy shrugged.

  “Yeah, so maybe even forty dollars,” said Peter. “That’s fair, right?”

  “Well, I … I don’t think …”

  “Oh, and we would need you to bring and set up your own keyboard,” Brandy added. “Our venue doesn’t have a piano. It’s a great venue though. The Rolling Hills Country Club of Belmont.”

  “Belmont?” I said. “What part of town is that? I’m not familiar with it.”

  “Oh, it’s about ten miles north of Springfield,” said Brandy.

  “Springfield?” I asked, somewhat alarmed. “You mean you’re getting married in another state? Springfield is over a hundred miles away.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “That’s where my family lives. So, does that sound like something you can do?”

  I think my mouth might have been hanging open. I closed my mouth long enough to gulp while I figured out how to answer them.

  “Well, I do have an extra fee for bringing my keyboard,” I said. “Plus, there’s a travel fee for that kind of distance.”

  Peter frowned for a moment, then shrugged. “Sure,” he said, “that’s fair. We don’t mind throwing in another ten dollars. Fifty total would be fine.”

  They both smiled and nodded at me, as if the deal had been settled.

  “No,” I said slowly. “No, the fees alone would be fifty dollars.”

  “Oh.” Brandy said, looking uncomfortable. She glanced at Peter for a cue.

  “It’s okay,” he told her. “We can probably ask your aunt to do it for free, or your cousin Mary. Doesn’t she know how to play the piano?”

  “Oh, of course.” Brandy looked relieved. “We should have thought of that in the first place. Ooh, you’re so smart Peter!”

  Peter looked very pleased with himself.

  “Nice talking to you!” Brandy chirped, giving me a little wave with a flip of her fingers before they disappeared into the crowd.

  I slowly returned her wave, which I don’t think she even saw. I was watching them walk away when I heard a female voice say, “Excuse me, are you the piano player?” />
  “Oh, yes!” I said, snapping out of my daze.

  A young woman with a blond ponytail was looking at me. Behind her was a woman wearing an emerald-green blazer. She had the thickest, waviest dark hair I’d ever seen.

  Somehow, I felt like I’d seen that hair before—being tossed around proudly by the head it was attached to. Wait a minute. Was that … ? I glanced down at her feet and saw a pair of taupe patent leather stilettos. It was! It was none other than Erica Cantrell—president of Madison Wedding and Event Professionals, as well as the owner of Magical Moments Event Planning.

  I hadn’t wanted Erica to associate Heather Hershey wedding pianist with the bumbling idiot who almost dove face first into the parking lot the day of the lunch and learn. And fortunately, I’d been smart enough to not send her my business card.

  Maybe she wouldn’t remember me and this would be my second chance to make a good first impression. I stood a little straighter and nervously tucked my hair behind my ears, hoping that my dress wasn’t crooked and that there wasn’t any lipstick on my teeth.

  “I’m Jessica,” said the woman with the blond ponytail, “and this is my wedding planner, Erica.”

  Erica gave me a self-assured nod.

  At that very moment, my left eye suddenly started to twitch and sting. Oh no! Oh no no no no no! My mascara must’ve flaked off and gotten trapped by my contact lens.

  I sniffled and blinked a couple times. I told myself I could endure the pain. I’d just have to push through so that I could win over this bride, and more importantly, Erica. With any luck, maybe it would clear up in a minute.

  “I know that I want live music for my ceremony,” Jessica said, “although I haven’t decided what instrument yet. We were talking about a string quartet or a harp, but then I saw your card here and thought piano might be nice too.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, smiling and trying to ignore the fact that my left eyeball felt like it was on fire. “I’m Heather Hershey. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about your wedding?”