“Marsala?” Nellie asks curiously, sipping her sangria, licking her lips.
Rob swallows thickly and taps the side of his nose to let her know she has the right word. “Right, bloody marsala,” he says with a laugh, shaking his head. “Is your sister always this . . . intense? I know Basti is a pretty chill guy, so it’s surprising to know he’s marrying someone like Ellie.”
“He says he likes that they clash,” Nellie muses, resting her hand on her chin as she eats the bread. “When I was a kid, Ellie had to approve Millie’s and my clothing before we went out of the house,” Nellie confessed, running her finger around the rim of her wine glass. “I think that’s why I keep wearing the same things over and over again, because it’s what she’s approved.”
Nellie looks down at her plain striped dress and usual flats. She touches the edges of her grey cardigan. Rob notices that she’s frowning and more upset than she is letting on.
“You know, I’m going to have to give you a makeover at some point,” he says, popping a piece of bread into his mouth. “Standard procedure for every My Fair Lady story. Donna says she would handle it. You’re free this Saturday, aren’t you?”
She looks up at him in surprise. “You got Donna into this?”
“Yup,” he replies as their paella negra finally arrives. He scoops up almost half and plops it into his plate. “She mentioned something about leather pants.”
“Oh my God,” Nellie groans into her plate, but laughs anyway. “I can’t wear leather pants!”
“Leather pants and leopard print,” Rob adds. “I think that’s going to look fantastic.”
Nellie swatted his arm to shut him up. The camera goes wide-angle, and we see Rob smiling toward Nellie while she takes an eager bite of her food.
**
“You and Rob seem to be getting a lot closer these days,” the producer comments to Nellie, who blinks at them in slight confusion.
“What do you mean?” she asks, leaning forward. While the interview continues, footage of Nellie and Rob is interspersed, usually involving the both of them laughing. “He’s helping me get together with Jason, and he’s coordinating Ellie’s wedding. It’s natural that I see him a lot,” Nellie says as footage of them in the elevator on the last Pink Wine Night plays.
“I mean, sure he’s really nice and kind of sweet,” she snaps as they show footage of her face lighting up when Robert first entered the office during the first episode. “And he knows a lot more about this business than he lets on. So I guess we are getting closer, friends-wise.”
The camera shows them clinking wine glasses as Pride and Prejudice plays in the background at the office.
**
Episode Four
“So it’s been a couple of days since we decided on a theme, venue, and caterer,” Charlotte says to the camera in her backroom interview. “We have about ten days to the wedding, and because we have all the big details planned, we’re down to the little things now.”
“We decided to do it in the order in which they will happen,” Nellie adds, as she sits next to her boss. “So the next three days are all about the ceremony, then the reception. My list is about this long.” She laughs, showing the camera the length of her arm to indicate just how long the list is. “And to top it all off . . . my sister’s getting married today, and we had that whole press fiasco yesterday.”
“Oh yes,” Charlotte says, clapping her hands together to set the record straight. “It’s standard procedure for everyone in our office to sign nondisclosure agreements when we have big clients, even if they aren’t directly involved in the wedding. But yesterday, someone leaked the wedding date to the press.”
“It wasn’t anyone from our office, of course,” Nellie points out, and Charlotte nods emphatically. “But it did cause quite a mess. Renée is screaming. A lot. That girl is very creative with her swearing.”
“I think I saw a vein in Ewan’s forehead pop too,” Charlotte says, and Nellie nods in agreement. “It is right in the middle of his forehead, here,” she says, pointing to the middle of her own forehead and they both start laughing hysterically.
The cameras cut to Rob’s backroom interview, after being told of what Nellie and Charlotte had done in their interview.
“Yeah, they’re just laughing because this wedding is driving everyone crazy,” he says in a deadpan voice.
**
The camera zooms in on the reception desk, where Donna is ignoring the ringing phone. Donna Smith is no snitch, and since it means less work for her, she is only too eager to just keep painting her nails.
“Donna,” Nellie whispers, from behind the entrance to the office, “are you sure this is okay?”
Donna looks up from her desk, sees Nellie, and rolls her eyes. “Oh God, Nellie, this isn’t a romantic comedy, it’s a reality show. Come out and do your job,” she says, standing up and crossing the threshold to pull Nellie’s arm into the camera’s view.
**
“I, Donna Smith, despite having the most boring last name in the history of last names, am amazing,” Donna proclaims to the cameras, holding her arms out to the general public. “In the middle of that whole press fiasco, I managed to wrangle Nellie into a makeover and a Drag Race marathon while you guys weren’t watching.”
**
“Come on,” Donna says to Nellie, tugging on Nellie’s arm. “You have a meeting with the floral stylist and the Palace Hotel is on hold on your desk—they just have a couple of things to go over with you before you have to be at the fitting—what?”
Both Nellie and Donna are halfway past the reception desk when the elevator doors open to reveal Jason, looking harried, slightly confused, and surprised as he walks off at the right floor.
“Jason, seriously, you’re supposed to be better than this,” Donna groans at him, but he shifts the weight between his feet and shakes his head, his eyes directed at Nellie. Nellie’s eyes are wide in surprise as she swivels her head toward their guest.
She was wearing a long-sleeved black-and-white shirt dress, cozy but not at all dowdy. It fit close to her body, making her slightly uncomfortable and hide away. But Donna had insisted that the cardigans made her look frumpy. As Nellie barely has any shoulders, she needed to compensate with legs, although Nellie thinks the dress is bit too short. Donna paired this with a simple diamond necklace Nellie never would have dared wear before, and a pair of tan booties. Nellie wasn’t ready to wear full heels yet, and the booties were sturdy enough but still comfortable to walk around in. Her cropped, brown bob is pulled back in a half ponytail, a few loose tendrils framing her face. She also has a sweep of apricot lip tint and mascara, concealer under her eyes, and blush on her cheeks. In short, she never felt less like herself than she does now.
Nobody is more surprised than Nellie when Jason actually exhales, like he finally managed to be at the right place, at the right time.
“I—I—actually came here to see Nellie,” he says, still looking at her. “I saw her in the lobby and just . . . wow.” He exhales again, walking toward them, tentative so as not to spook Nellie. “You look beautiful.”
**
In the interviews, Nellie’s look has changed to reflect the makeover. She smiles and the blush on her cheeks is unmistakable. The camera catches her giggling before it cuts back to the scene unfolding in the reception area of Charleston Weddings.
**
“You want to grab dinner sometime?” Jason asks, as Nellie self-consciously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Donna rolls her eyes and shoves Nellie a bit forward, making her trip. Fortunately, Jason catches her in his arms like a scene out of a romantic comedy.
“Careful there,” he says, giving her a smile. Nellie had never noticed his dimples before, and based on the way she smiles back, it is a welcome surprise.
“Yes,” she answers, smiling back as she regains her composure. “To . . . to dinner. I’d love to have dinner . . . with you.”
The smile on Jason’s face is nearly enough to make
Donna stop wanting to choke herself on the sweetness of the moment. Almost.
“Great!” he exclaims, walking back to the elevators. “I’ll . . . um, call you,” he says, laughing self-consciously as he gives the cameras a sideways glance. The cameras go back to Nellie and Donna as the elevators close, and both girls start giggling and squealing excitedly.
“Jason asked me out!” Nellie exclaims, hopping up and down as much as she can in her new shoes. “Oh God, pinch me—ow!”
“You asked!” Donna exclaims back, laughing and giving her friend a hug. “See, that’s the power of a good lip tint. Now go to your fitting, you are so late.”
Nellie checks the time on her watch and realizes that she is, in fact, late. She rushes toward the elevator, pressing the down button. As the doors close, the cameras catch Donna giving them a saucy little wink.
“Renée’s fitting is scheduled for 10:00 a.m. at Marina Morrison on Maiden Lane, just a block away from Union Square,” Nellie explains to the cameras as she rides the bus to Maiden Lane. “It is the top bridal boutique in the city, and the only place in North California to get a Carolina Herrera gown, which is what Renée’s heart is set on getting. A Carolina Herrera dress is known for being feminine, elegant, and dripping with class, the kind of look they need for a princess’ dress. But I’ve got a bad feeling about this . . .”
**
“The wedding gown,” Charlotte says, speaking the words reverently, “is the dress that will make or break your event. I know the temptation to try on every dress in the store is hard, but you have to stay on theme. I’m not a fan of things with ten-foot trains unless you can wear those.”
**
Maiden Lane is quite narrow, and Nellie looks surprised to find a crowd of paparazzi parked outside the small street.
“Nellie, oh my God, get inside!” Andy, the boutique manager exclaims, literally pulling her into the store and immediately handing her a glass of champagne. The windows that opened up to the street were blocked by racks of wedding gowns, as is the door. “It’s like Armageddon out there! Whoa, you look amazing, girl!”
“How did they find out about the fitting?” Nellie asks, shaking her head in disbelief. This press leak is getting out of hand. She knows Charlotte is too busy trying to calm Renée down to find out who it is, and to be honest, this press leak thing is low on Nellie’s list of priorities.
“I have no idea, but Renée Winters is living up to her reputation as a bitch,” Andy says, taking Nellie’s champagne and taking a swallow.
“If someone brings me another fucking mermaid dress, I will walk out of this store,” Renée is heard sniping off-camera. Nellie’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead as she and Andy stand just outside the studio. Despite the small entryway, the boutique has a large center room, with a small runway for the bride to walk on, several full-length mirrors, a serving trolley with tea, champagne, fruits and cake, and stage lights. In the middle of all this is Renée Winters, a bratty child in a gown that just didn’t look like The One.
**
“Truth be told, wedding planners aren’t usually involved in helping their brides choose a wedding gown,” Andy explains to the cameras, still holding on to Nellie’s champagne glass. “But of course Charlotte or Nellie would always come at the behest of the client, even if that client is throwing a huge bitch fit in the middle of the boutique.”
**
“See what we have to deal with?” Andy mutters to Nellie.
“We’ve been working with her for five days now,” Nellie points out, patting his shoulder. “You have no right to complain, bucko.”
Nellie walks up to Charlotte, who looks like she is on her last nerve. “She rejected all the bloody Carolina Herrera dresses,” she whispers to Nellie, forgetting that the cameras were on them. “All of them. She seems to have forgotten that she’s supposed to be Grace Kelly, because the necklines are getting lower, actual ball gowns are coming out, and the dresses are getting more glittery.”
“Have you intervened?” Nellie asks.
“No, I like to think that telling her what’s actually going on would be our last resort,” Charlotte answers.
**
“Actually, we agreed, as much as possible, not to stress Renée Winters out,” Charlotte explained. “But the truth is, she needs to panic a little bit. Time is running short, and we have no time for this.”
**
Nellie squints up at Renée, who is yelling at her PA to give her a glass of champagne. Renée’s mother, who is generally believed to be the one who had encouraged her daughter to date the congressman in the first place, turns to Nellie and Charlotte and glared like this is their fault.
**
“I actually already had a gown in mind,” Charlotte says, winking at the cameras. She’s standing somewhere a bit far from the staging area; Renee’s silhouette is clear in the distance. “It is just a matter of getting Renée to try it on.”
**
“This is so stupid,” Renée says, placing her hands on her waist. The actress/singer looks at Charlotte and Nellie, her face just as disappointed as her own mother’s. “Help?” she asks her wedding planners.
Nellie turns to Charlotte, who wiggles her right eyebrow at her.
**
“Nellie and I have been working together long enough to know little cues and tricks to let the other know that they if we were up to something. This one in particular is called the bait and wear. We bait her with the dress, and when the bride wears it, we’ll schmooze her on it so well she’ll think it’s the one.”
**
“Oh, I dunno, Nellie, I think that dress we found might be perfect,” Charlotte says, flipping her hair to the side like they were in the middle of a conversation.
“Really? Maybe it’s just too high-fashion, I don’t know,” Nellie shrugs.
“What is?” Renée asks, stepping off the runway and walking right toward them. “Did you find a dress?”
“Well, yes, technically,” Charlotte says, making a face as Nellie retrieved the dress Andy had set aside for Charlotte. “But we’re having a bit of a disagreement on whether it fits the theme. I mean it’s not exactly a Carolina Herrera but—”
“Gimme,” Renée barked, snapping off the dress she is wearing without blinking, standing in the middle of the boutique in her underwear for ten seconds while Nellie helped her into the dress. Then she marches up to the runway and looks at herself in the mirror. Charlotte stood behind her, sighing.
“Oh, I was right.” She nods. “It’s gorgeous.”
Nellie has to admit that Charlotte had the right instinct about the dress. She had chosen a vintage Valentino gown made entirely of white-grey lace. There was a gap on Renée’s arms for tulle netting, only for her wrists and forearms to be covered again. Everything else is covered in handmade flowers, following the curve of her waist only to touch the floor in a wide circle, the hem following the scallop of the lace. A ribbon of white-grey silk is wrapped along Renée’s high neck, making her look demure but still showing off her figure. It is loose at some parts, and just a tad too long in the arms, but they know it would work.
Renée really looks like Grace Kelly. Behind Nellie, she can hear Renée’s mother sniffling. They know they found the dress.
**
“There’s always that moment,” Nellie tells the cameras in the backroom interview, “where the bride tries on the right dress for the first time. There’s always a feeling she seems to get, and she knows it’s the dress for her. Charlotte and I were just glad to get that over and done with.”
**
After the fitting, Nellie sends Renée and Charlotte off to the Palace Hotel to choose table settings with the event stylist they had subcontracted to for the reception. The Palace Hotel ballroom had been Charlotte’s choice. It is a gorgeous, art-deco kind of space, with mirrored walls, multiple chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It is the kind of place Jay Gatsby would have held one of his outrageous parties. But more importantly, it looked
like a million dollars.
Nellie peels off the Palace Hotel driveway and shoots off into the street. Luckily the Palace Hotel and City Hall are generally in the same South of Market neighborhood, and she makes it to the hall in five minutes. Nellie ducks into the nearest bathroom she can find and jumps when someone screamed.
“Oh my God, I thought you were a stranger,” her sister Millie exclaims from her place by the bathroom sink. She glances briefly at the cameras, but pays them no further mind. “You look great, I love that dress! But you aren’t dressed yet!”
“I know,” Nellie groans, locking the door behind her and tossing her dress near the sink. Millie is already dressed in her bridesmaid dress, a simple, long maxi dress with a gunmetal-gray shawl draped over her shoulders. It shows off her seven-month bun in the oven without being too showy.
“Help,” Nellie begs, marching into the stall and throwing off her work clothes, keeping the booties. Millie is at her side with Nellie’s bridesmaid dress in an instant, zipping up Nellie’s dress. Ellie had chosen for Nellie a long sleeved dress with bell-shaped sleeves. The dress landed in an A-line just above Nellie’s knees, her preferred length. Ellie even picked out their jewelry for them. The two Canlas sisters emerge from the bathroom stall, and Nellie rushes to the sink to get her makeup done. Anyone watching the show can see the cameras from the mirror.
“Any idea why Ellie is in such a hurry to get married?” Millie asks, expertly twisting her baby sister’s hair into an intricate braid on just one side of her head, securing it with silver bobby pins.
**
“Tell us about Mille,” the producers tell Nellie in her backroom interview.
“Millie was my best friend growing up, and we usually team up together against Ellie. Millie is insightful, warm, and totally kind, and nobody is as excited as me for her upcoming baby. She’s always been my head cheerleader, even if she is the only one with the pompoms,” Nellie jokes.
Marry Me, Charlotte B! Page 5
