“Wouldn’t dream of it, chérie!” she exclaims, giggling before resuming her walk. Donna smiles as well before rounding up the Bertrams.
**
There is a camera crew waiting for Rob as soon as he steps into the office. He smiles at the cameras, putting his guitar case aside by his desk. He has to admit, he is starting to get used to this.
“I have no idea how to coordinate a wedding,” he confesses, shaking his head at the ridiculous thought. “Well. I know a couple of things by osmosis, but this is the first time I’ve actually had to . . . Ugh. I might need some help.”
There’s a pause as he considers his own words. The camera catches him drumming his fingers over a familiar-looking black planner.
“I might need some help,” he repeats with a grin as Donna comes up to tell him that his clients are waiting.
**
While the cameras were filming Charlotte’s backroom interview before the meeting, Nellie leads her family through the office and to the smaller conference room / library. The large, dark wood table is placed against the wall, a bookshelf of wedding portfolios on one side. It’s light and airy, and Rob had painted a mural of bluebells and peonies and on the wall (one of his special projects).
“I thought you were being filmed for a reality show?” Ellie asks as Nellie puts aside the vase of white mums and sits across her older sister and her fiancée. Nellie looks nervous, tapping her hand on the table. But with one swift glare from Ellie, she stops.
**
“Here’s what you need to know about Eleanor Canlas,” Donna says, holding up her manicured hands to the cameras to demonstrate her points. “One, Ellie and Nellie can seriously pass for twins. Well, triplets, if you count Millie. Two, Ellie hated that fact so much that she made Nellie cut her hair short and Millie get a perm to make sure nobody mistook them for each other. Three, Ellie is and has always been a power dresser, whip smart with a takes-nobody’s-shit attitude. I totes love her for that, but it’s really scary when she’s actually here. Four, Nellie always feels frumpy and nervous next to her older sister.”
**
The camera pans from Ellie to the person next to her, and arm draped behind Ellie’s chair, is Ellie’s fiancé, Sebastian Stave. His foot is bobbing up and down, tapping against the leg of the conference table.
**
“Finally,” Donna says, holding up her thumb. “Ellie’s fiancée Sebastian is a total babe. He’s curator Ellie met when she had to draw up contracts to purchase a collection Basti curated, and they hit it off right away.”
**
“Ahem,” Nellie says to her sister, pointing at the cameras placed inside the room. There is one on the bookshelf, a sound guy standing behind her, and another camera pointed at Basti and Ellie. Nellie looks into the hallway and pulls Rob by the arm.
“Guys, this is Rob Bertram,” she says, indicating the gentleman beside her. She notices the spark of recognition in Basti’s eyes, and thinks this is a good sign. Rob and Basti are artists; they should get along. “He’s been assigned to be the day coordinator for your wedding.”
“Ahem, civil ceremony and small reception,” Ellie corrects. She avoids Nellie’s questioning look. “We’re kind of in a hurry.”
Behind Rob, Donna is signaling Nellie that Charlotte and Renée are waiting in the other conference room.
“That’s my cue,” she says, smiling apologetically at Ellie and Basti. “I’ll leave you guys to it. Be sure to invite me!”
“Will do, Nells,” Basti laughs from his seat as Ellie rolls her eyes. Nellie turns to Rob and squeezes his arm, trying to channel off her surprise and annoyance at her older sister.
“Good luck,” she mumbles to him before walking off to the bigger conference room. Rob is left inside the room with the cameras and his new clients. He smiles politely at the couple in front of him, trying to put on a professional face. “So . . . what are the things you need me to do?”
“I have a list,” Ellie says, brandishing said list from her briefcase in one swift motion. “It’s a simple civil ceremony, but I want all of this under control on the day itself. Now that Nellie doesn’t have to run around, I can make her my witness—thank God, since our middle sister Millie is so pregnant she can’t stand up for five minutes without needing to pee.”
“She means that in the most loving way possible, of course,” Basti says, smiling.
**
“Oh boy,” Rob says in the interview, his eyebrows flying up to the top of his head.
**
The cameras catch Nellie and Rob coming out of their respective conference rooms three hours later, closing the door behind them, and sighing really, really deeply. They catch each other’s gazes and give each other looks that seem to say it all.
“Long day?” he jokes, giving her such a charming, boyish grin that Nellie has to smile and roll her eyes at him.
“I’m planning a celebrity wedding,” Nellie informs him before she leans her head against the door. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle . . . I think.” She laughs a little too loudly. “You?”
**
“When asked to describe her wedding, Renée got all dreamy-eyed and told us about always wanting to become a princess when she was a little girl. That is nice and all, but I had no idea what that is supposed to mean in terms of flower arrangements and food,” Nellie complains to the cameraman.
**
The camera goes back to Rob and Nellie as he mulls over the answer to her question.
“Your sister . . . is scary,” he replies, running a hand through his hair. “She gave me a list. She called you and Millie a lot of . . . creative things I can’t repeat on camera. Why did I agree to do this?”
“Because you decided to sell your soul to be a good son,” Nellie jokes, patting Rob’s lean arm before walking back toward her desk. Rob follows, a smile on his face. He turns to the camera briefly, waggling his eyebrows like everyone knows what he is up to.
“Is Ellie pregnant?” Rob asks, making her stop suddenly and turn slowly toward him. This was obviously a testy subject for her, and he backs off slightly. “I only ask because they got engaged like, last month, didn’t they? I saw it on your Instagram feed.”
“I don’t think she’d tell me if she is,” Nellie points out. “Nice to know someone actually sees my posts. But it’s more likely that she doesn’t want the fuss. A civil ceremony is much less complicated than a full wedding, trust me. Did I tell you that Renée and the congressman want to get married in exactly two weeks, here in San Francisco?” she asks. “Apparently, Renée is going on a world tour next month and Congressman Walters wants the wedding sooner rather than later.”
“What?” Rob asks, “Are they insane? What did Maman say?”
“Oui, but of course!” Nellie says in a horrible French accent, laughing before choking out in fake sobs, “I’m fucked.”
**
“I’ve never been anyone’s best friend,” Rob confesses, one leg crossed over the other as he fingers the warped pages of Nellie’s planner. “I grew up mostly by myself, and Maman, private tutors and all. But I just thought . . . Well, she deserves this. I can help her. She deserves to see how brilliant she is.”
He holds up the planner to the camera.
“This is Nellie’s diary. Kind of. She threw this away the other day. She writes everything here—work stuff, dates, and appointments. She’s also apparently really good at watercolor; look at this,” he says proudly, showing them a wonderful sketch of a row of houses along Haight-Ashbury. “But she writes a few things here too, like . . .” He looks at the planner and reads right off the open page. “‘Can’t wait to go to yoga class again!’ That means she’s going to Union Square and buying herself a Neiman Marcus cookie. How do I know that? Because it’s written on January 7. She’s got the soul of an artist. I’ve never seen anyone so passionate about making people in love happy.”
“What are you going to do?” the producer asks.
“Well,” Rob say
s, flipping the pages of the planner. “If I can just get the girl in here,” he says, indicating the planner, “out there . . .”
**
Later, after Renée leaves Charleston Weddings and Charlotte stays inside her office to finish up some calls to New York, the cameras follow Rob as he walks casually across the lobby of their office building, deliberately making his way to the Hummingbird Bakery. This time the paint splatters are on his hands, and there’s a drawing of a sparrow on the back of his hand.
“Hey,” Rob exclaims at Nellie, as if surprised to find her there. She is already chewing on a cookie, tapping her pen against a company pad, her cardigan wrapped closely around her. “Mind if I sit, petit chou?”
“Hm?” Nellie asks, looking up from her work. She is trying to divide her work into urgent, not so urgent, and can wait until after.
“How’s the shotgun wedding coming along?” Rob asks casually, leaning back against the chair.
“My sister is not pregnant,” Nellie corrects him quickly.
“Aren’t we tetchy?” he jokes, sitting across her and crossing one leg over the other. “I was talking about Renée Winters and her sugar daddy.”
“Rude,” Nellie points out, laughing anyway. “But not so well. I need—”
Rob is quick to notice Nellie’s eyes flicker toward the cafe doors as someone enters. Her breath hitches in her throat and she watches Jason the cute lawyer walk in with a bunch of files in his hands, an apologetic smile on his face as he asks for someone’s extra seat to accommodate his stuff.
“Is that Jason?” Rob asks Nellie, squinting a little and trying to divine what it is about him that she likes.
**
“January 12. Jason accidentally walked into the office,” Rob reads to the cameras in a deadpan voice. “He is cute. He smiles, I died. Be still my heart.”
Rob looks up at the cameras. “Seriously? For a guy, he looks average. Tall, but average. He looks like someone who trips a lot but compensates for it by being really, really smart. ”
**
“Yeah,” she sighs, resting her hand on her chin as she watches him order a salad and coffee. “He’s so cute I could put him in my pocket.”
“I think the other way around would be more likely,” Rob says a little too quickly. Nellie eyes him warily until he stammers, “Because he’s so tall, and you’re . . . um . . . petite?”
“Yeah well, it’s not like he’d ever think I’m cute,” she sighs, resting her head on her chin, “I’m not his type, and he’s a lawyer. Lawyers think Lady Justice is demanding enough without dowdy assistants falling for them.”
Robert is about to protest that point when he suddenly smiles.
**
“I’ve got it,” he said exactly to the cameras after he and Nellie spoke in the cafe. “I know exactly how to make Nellie see how brilliant she is. The key is just sitting there, reading cases while drinking the biggest cup of coffee I’ve ever seen,” he comments quickly, nudging his head behind him where Jason is still sitting. His expression changes quickly into a huge cat-got-the-cream grin that seems just a touch sinister.
**
Back at the cafe, Rob leans forward over the desk. “You are anything but dowdy, petit chou,” Rob explains, chuckling and patting the top of her hand. “And trust me, you can be his type if you really wanted to be. Guys aren’t that picky, and you can quote me on that.”
Nellie turns to him, her brow furrowed slightly.
“Really?” she asks him incredulously.
“What if I tell you that I can make him,” he says, indicating Jason, “ask you out?” and points back to Nellie. “Just in time for our double wedding? Well, your wedding and my ‘civil ceremony.’”
Now it’s Nellie’s turn to lean back and cross her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow at him. “Really?” she asks, the corner of her lip upturned into a smile. “You’re reenacting My Fair Lady and coordinating my sister’s wedding?”
“If I have to,” he shrugs, like he obviously had to. “I’m going to help you, on getting the boy and the big wedding, if you never question me during my process,” he says, grinning.
“Oh, so this is a ploy to get me to work with you,” Nellie says, nodding in understanding. “Despite your mother specifically choosing you for the job. Gotcha.”
“Maybe it is,” Rob says, shrugging innocently. “But it’s a win-win for you. You get a boyfriend and impress the hell out of Maman because you have my help, and I will get nothing but a job well done and probably a little less dignity than when I started. What do you say, Miss Canlas?”
Nellie studies Rob’s gaze, trying to find a chink in his proposal. She smiles, resting her elbow on the desk biting her fingernail as she watches him.
**
“I know Rob has always been about adventures and schemes and things,” she explains to the cameras. “But how serious is he about this? Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me.”
**
The camera moves over to where Nellie glances at Jason, who is wiping his mouth with a piece of tissue. Her head swivels back to Rob, who is looking at her expectantly.
**
“I’m not really sure why I’m hesitating,” she laughs to the cameras. “But I trust Rob. I do, implicitly. He doesn’t get enough credit for being the way he is, and I think he’s amazing. He always brings me souvenirs from his trips.” The cameras show a flashback of Rob giving Nellie her London sticker. “He takes me to Ghirardelli when he knows I’m having a crappy day,” she recounts, and there’s a flashback of the two of them laughing over their frozen hot chocolates. “And I really like Jason, so . . . why not?”
**
“Fine,” she says, sitting up and taking a sip of her Earl Grey tea, milk with two sugars. Rob knows that she only pretends to drink coffee in the office to look like she belongs and that she doesn’t really like anything that came out of Charlotte’s juicer. “Just call me your willing subject.”
“Excellent,” Rob says, immediately pushing his chair back and standing up. He grabs a cookie from her plate and points it at her. “You will not be disappointed.”
“I hope not,” Nellie smiles. Then he stands up, places a kiss on the top of her head before walking away. He doesn’t even seem to realize that he’d done that. Nellie, slightly surprised, watches him as he leaves the café like a boy who just found out what he is getting for Christmas.
Episode Three
“March 27,” Rob reads. “Donna and I stay at work late every Wednesday to watch a movie in the conference room and drink a bottle of blush zinfandel while the night janitor works. I hate zinfandel and wish we had cupcakes instead.”
“March 28,” he continues. “I love pink wine. Can’t every night be Pink Wine Night?”
**
“First lesson,” Rob says after the end of the office day. They’re walking back to the office after getting a box of original glazed donuts for Pink Wine Night. Krispy Kreme is never really Rob’s scene, but he claimed that he didn’t mind so much as long as they weren’t in there too long. Nellie is holding on to their dozen donuts quite tightly, and he is worried she will start snuggling it if she isn’t careful. “Posture.”
“Posture?” Nellie echoes, raising an eyebrow at him as they walk across the lobby hallway. They would have just had it delivered, but Donna insisted they go out while she dug for the wine glasses a supplier sent over once.
“It goes a long way,” Rob points out. “I had a nanny once who tells me that when you have good posture, the things you want to say just flow out of your mouth easily, like a straight road or something.”
“I didn’t know you had a nanny,” Nellie muses as they stand in the elevator to the office. She turns to him with a grin. “How riche.”
“Oi, don’t knock the nanny,” he says seriously, leaning over Nellie’s shoulder. He is getting a little too close, and she gasps a bit in surprise, noticing the sharp color of his eyes. She backs away slightly. Her eyes trail briefly over
his shirt, printed with Shakespeare’s face grinning back at her like the cheeky bastard he was.
**
“I have always liked red hair on a gentleman, and Rob’s suits him very well,” she says to the cameras, seemingly apropos to nothing. She had actually been asked on her opinion on ginger hair, which Nellie thinks is a bit strange.
**
He’s got a determined look on his face, leaning closer as the box of donuts touches his chest. Robert Bertram smiles slyly, pressing both his hands down his protégé’s shoulders, and her eyes grow wide.
“Posture,” he repeats, the word almost whispered as it passed between his lips. He pushes her shoulders back suddenly, making her jump and nearly drop the box. The elevator doors open, and Rob is still smirking when he walks to the conference room.
“Is that you, Nellie?” Donna yells from inside. “Bring those donuts so we can start the movie! Mr. Darcy waits for no one!”
Early the next day, Renée is back in the office. Charlotte sits with her legs crossed, at one end of the conference table, looking up expectantly at Renée, who is sitting on the opposite end with her fiancé, Congressman Ewan. He is obviously a man who is used to sitting still in long meetings. His back is ramrod straight, his sandy blonde hair perfectly coiffed. There is something cold and stony about his appearance, but his hand on Renée’s is tender and caring, like he is holding delicate china.
A cameraman is standing by the whiteboard, watching the proceedings with limited interest. Nellie is standing outside the door with Donna, trying to listen in on what is happening inside. She has just brought in a second round of coffee for everyone at eight in the morning, so they know that things aren’t going well, as such.
“I thought you said Renée wanted to be a princess or something?” Donna asks Nellie, who nods.
“Yes, but there’s no time to make it into a big, royal wedding,” Nellie points out. “Charlotte would never settle with just that. Big, rush wedding like this, they need a simpler theme that’s kind of princess-adjacent.”
Marry Me, Charlotte B! Page 3
