The Marrying Type

by Laura Chapman

  Elliot maintained peace amongst the bridesmaids through the first half-dozen dresses. With lunch looming in their not-to-distant future and blood sugar levels dropping, the women grew steadily crabbier. With each passing moment, Elliot worried she might have a full-fledged war on her hands.

  All hell broke loose when Heloise declared she’d found the dress. Not only did the price tag far exceed the previously determined amount, but it flattered no one but her.

  Though beautiful, only one percent of the population could wear something that fitted and look good. The asymmetrical gown molded every inch of Heloise’s body. Like the bride’s gown, this one narrowed at the knees. Jessie’s jaw dropped when Heloise bent over to inspect her butt in the mirror.

  Adam’s sister shook her head. “I work out every day, and there aren’t enough crunches and miles on a treadmill to make that work on me. No way the other girls will want to wear it either.”

  “Are you implying the rest of us are cows?” Jessie asked. “I may have a few extra curves, but I am not fat.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I’m sure most people can stand to lose a few pounds, but it’s not entirely our fault in this instance. That’s a mess.”

  “Exactly,” Adam’s sister said, realizing too late she had offended the other women. Her quick agreement squelched Jessie’s fast-brewing anger.

  “This is stunning.” Heloise crossed her arms, standing her ground. “If you understood anything about fashion, you would know and appreciate that. You should be thankful for the chance to own something like this. This will be the greatest contribution your wardrobe ever receives. I promise.”

  “Are you saying I don’t have style?” Heloise’s sorority sister asked. “I won most fashionable in our house senior year.”

  “If you really had style, you’d be on my side.” Heloise stumbled slightly in her heels. Elliot’s eyes narrowed. Had she snuck more than her share of champagne earlier? “This event is going to be one of the biggest parties this year. I can’t be seen in the mess you’re wearing.”

  She pointed at the one-shouldered, floor-length chiffon number Jessie had on. It fell in the price range and would flatter differing body parts. The fabric flowers sewn to the one strap made the dress interesting.

  “I like it,” Sadie said. “I love the flowers. Maybe flowers can be my theme.”

  She turned to her wedding planner, her eyes pleading for help.

  “Absolutely.” Elliot plastered a smile on her face and offered Heloise a subtle but supportive arm to keep her from falling off the pedestal and onto her face. “We’ve decided colors, but we haven’t talked themes. With your wedding in the garden, having a floral theme would be gorgeous and totally fashionable.”

  “Flowers are fashionable?” Heloise seemed doubtful. “This sounds like something out of a 1980s playbook. You might want to update your portfolio.”

  “Heloise.” Elliot fought to keep her voice level. Her careful calm and cool demeanor threatened to falter. “Flowers are classic at weddings. They were fashionable in 1020, 1760, and 1980. They’ll be in style long after you, or I, have anything to say about trends.”

  The bridesmaid swayed again, and Elliot lowered her voice. “Can I remind you of a few iconic brides who favored floral themes?” she asked. “Grace Kelly. Princess Diana. Kate Middleton.”

  Heloise’s back straightened. “The duchess did have a lot of flowers at her wedding. Her wedding was sophisticated and classy as shit.”

  “Unlike some people,” Jessie muttered under breath, earning an appreciative laugh from the other bridesmaids.

  Elliot darted a warning glance, but Heloise hadn’t caught the diss. “Flowers might be traditional, but they’re never out of style.”

  “Well . . .”

  Heloise withdrew her dress from the running, and the bridesmaids unanimously agreed on Jessie’s. The worn-out shop clerk led them to the back for measurements.

  LUNCH STARTED OUT PLEASANTLY enough. They ordered iced teas and lemonades while gushing about the bride’s dress. After the waiter delivered their salads and breadsticks, the conversation took an unwelcome turn.

  “Sadie. Now that your brother is in town, how soon before you set him up with one of us?” Heloise asked.

  Elliot nearly dropped her fork. She’d rather break up a fistfight between dueling bridesmaids than spend more time talking about her ex. With the exception of the groom’s mother, none of the women were married. And with the exception of Sadie, who was spoken for, the rest of the women were in their twenties, single, and on the prowl for an eligible bachelor.

  By their account, Eric fit the bill. Everyone wanted a shot at him. Sadie’s cheeks turned pink, and she pretended not to hear Heloise’s question. But the bridesmaid wouldn’t be denied.

  “You have to realize that one of us bridesmaids is going to snap up that adorable brother of yours.”

  “She’s right,” Jessie said. Her face flushed. “I have to admit I’ve had a crush on him since the slumber party we had at your house for your seventh birthday.”

  “We terrorized the poor guy.” Sadie let out a small laugh. “I’m surprised he didn’t kill all of us that night.”

  “Have you met him?” Jessie asked.

  “Not officially,” Heloise said. “I caught a glimpse of him when he came to the house to pick up Sadie for dinner, but we’ve never been formally introduced.”

  She shot the bride a playful glare. “I’ll never marry your brother and become your sister-in-law if you don’t introduce us.”

  “Hey!” Jessie said. “I saw him first.”

  “I’ll fight you for him.” Heloise grinned. “And I’ll win.”

  While the other women chimed in, Elliot ignored the conversation and set her fork aside. She didn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

  Chapter Ten

  "Happy is the man who finds a true friend, and far happier is he who finds that true friend in his wife."

  ~ Franz Schubert

  ERIC SHIFTED IN HIS seat uncomfortably. The assistant producer and cameraman were making last minute adjustments as they prepared to film his background interview segment. While he’d done more than his share of television appearances in the past, this would be the first one where his personal life—and not his business—was the main focus.

  “We’ll start with some questions about your background,” the AP said, taking a seat next to the camera.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Tell me about where you grew up.”

  Familiar with the drill of how this type of interview works, Eric cleared his throat and spoke to the camera. “Sadie and I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio. Our dad died when we were kids, and our mom worked hard to take care of us.”

  “What happened to your father?”

  “He was a cop.” Shaking his head, Eric restated the answer as a usable quote before the AP had to remind him. “Dad was a police officer. He was killed in the line of duty when I was twelve. Our mom worked a couple of jobs to make sure we had our bills paid. She saved his pension money to set up college funds for us kids.”

  “Tell me about your college experience.”

  “I went to The University of Virginia on scholarship. I had a couple of work study and tutoring jobs to help cover expenses, because I didn’t want to have student loans to pay back.”

  “But you didn’t end up graduating.”

  “No, I didn’t.” The AP silently prodded him, until he provided more detail. “I left school the summer between my junior and senior year to work on the web application I developed. I had support from a few venture capitalists, and they set me up with a few staff members to establish the Cav as a legit business.”

  “Where did you come up with the name?”

  “The Cav is short for the Cavaliers. It’s the UVA mascot.”

  “I didn’t realize that.”

  “Now you do.”

  The room fell quiet, except for the calm whirring of machines generating light
and capturing the image. Eric and the AP stared at each other, each waiting for one to cave and speak up. Keeping his face neutral and bored, Eric refused to let the silence prompt him into giving any answers beyond those directly asked.

  The approach worked. With a sigh, the AP checked her notes for another question. “What was college like?”

  “College was a pretty busy time for me.” Eric rubbed sweaty palms on his jeans. His heart thudded a little harder than he would have liked. “Between working a few jobs and studying, I was pressed to find time to develop my app, but I did.”

  “Did you date much in college?”

  His lips twitched. “I dated a little.”

  “Anyone seriously?”

  “Yes,” he cleared his throat, “but I’m not going to talk about her.”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  “Sure.”

  “Tell us about it.”

  “No comment.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’ll tell you anything you want about my business or my relationship with Sadie and my mom, but I’m not talking about my dating life.”

  The line squarely drawn, the interview continued, focused only on subjects he approved. She asked about the first years of his business, which he cooperatively described. She brought up the philanthropic arm of his company, which he calmly explained carried out its mission anonymously. She begged for details about his childhood with Sadie, and he cheerfully chose a couple of prepared anecdotes. All in all, it hadn’t been one of his worst interviews.

  Once they finished, Eric hesitated on his chair. “Do you mind if I wait here for a while?”

  The AP blinked. “Sure . . .”

  “Elliot has something for my sister,” he explained. “I figured I’d pick it up while I was here. She wasn’t in the office when I got here.”

  “She should be back any minute, but you’re welcome to stay. We have some footage to review.” The AP scrolled through a series of shots, pausing on an exterior scope of the Lynch house. “We’re lucky this planner works out of such a spacious house with plenty of rooms,” she said. “Our Chicago team had to rent another place for the shoot. The couple that crew is filming should be on Hoarders.”

  “You guys rented a house for filming?”

  “Sure. We want everything to be perfect on screen.” She clicked out of one of Elliot’s in-the-moment interviews—or ITM as she’d called it a few moments earlier—and pulled up another scene. “Our scenes are carefully selected and planned ahead. We don’t have time to mess around by taking chances.”

  “Isn’t this supposed to be unscripted programming?”

  “It is. That doesn’t mean we don’t have everything planned out in advance.” When he stared at her in mute surprise, she laughed. “Welcome to reality TV.”

  They fell silent as she started the playback for the new shot.

  “This will make a good segment,” the AP said.

  He leaned forward to watch more closely. “What is it?”

  “Elliot was watching the daughter of one of her brides while they were dress shopping. She told a made-up, whimsical fairy tale.” She grinned. “The whole situation was pretty adorable.”

  He imagined. Elliot had always been inventive with stories. Back when they were together, he always assumed she’d become a poet or novelist.

  The image flashed on the screen. Elliot sat on an antique chaise in a waiting room with a toddler on her lap.

  “Tell me a story about a knight and princess,” the little girl commanded.

  Elliot shifted in her seat, a patient smile on her face. “How do these stories start, Abby?”

  “Once upon a time,” she prompted.

  “Once upon a time, there lived a young princess who wanted to go on an adventure.” Elliot paused, while Abby gazed up at her in adoration. “After she grew up, she left her home to seek her fortune. She traveled many miles to a kingdom she’d always dreamed about. She met witches and wizards, kings and other ladies. But still, she always felt alone.”

  “What happened next?”

  Eric’s heart panged, imagining the picture she painted. It reminded him of another young woman—one who ventured out into the world alone, without anyone to count on. He focused his attention back on the screen where Elliot continued the story.

  “She found a handsome knight.” The little girl leaned her head against Elliot’s shoulder. “Though the young princess didn’t realize he was a knight when she first met him. He was pretending to be someone else.”

  “Why?”

  “The hidden knight was in disguise, because he didn’t want the world to discover who he was yet.”

  “What happened next?”

  “The young princess fell in love with the hidden knight the moment she saw him. He had something in him that was greater than he appeared.”

  “And the hidden knight loved her, too.”

  “He did.” Elliot’s grin faltered slightly. “The hidden knight liked the young princess, and he joined her on the quest for adventure. Together they saw the world, helping strangers along the way—a village of children, an old man with a broken cart, and on and on. The more they helped people, the more the young princess realized what kind of person the hidden knight was. It made her care for him even more. That was when she began to call him a knight.”

  Eric’s lips twitched. Elliot had often called him her knight in shining armor. He’d called her Ella—short for Cinderella—in return. It was pretty sappy in hindsight, but the memory triggered something in him. Nostalgia? Yearning? He didn’t like either feeling.

  “One day, the knight asked her to marry him and sail across the world with him to visit a new kingdom. The princess wanted to more than anything else, but before she could leave her homeland, she had to have the king’s approval.”

  The AP stopped the segment, jarring him at the sudden change. Soft violin music hummed through the open door.

  “Elliot’s back,” she said. “You can probably head down to find out if your sister came with her.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “That’s her music. She’ll be in her office now.”

  Standing, Eric picked up his tablet and the small bundle of family photos he brought along. “Thanks for letting me wait in here.”

  “Any time.”

  Eric followed the music—an orchestral arrangement he couldn’t quite name—down the stairs. The tune grew louder and louder. What was that song? He stood outside the formal living room-turned office and paused. His breath caught as Elliot piled her long hair into a bun on top of her head. His gaze traveled down the smooth skin of her neck to her shapely hips, which were shaking to the music.

  It appeared Elliot still had some of the vibrancy he’d witnessed back in college.

  Kicking off her heels, Elliot joined in singing the song’s refrain. With the lyrics, he now recognized the song.

  “I didn’t realize Lady Gaga released a string-quartet version of ‘Bad Romance.’”

  Elliot froze, her shoulders and spine straightened. Slowly, she turned toward him.

  “It’s an orchestral arrangement.” She reached across her desk and muted the music. “We like to keep a variety of instrumental music on hand to help couples select songs for their ceremonies or first dances.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “People request Gaga for their weddings?”

  “You’d be surprised what some people want.” She smoothed an invisible wrinkle in her sundress and sat behind her narrow desk. Slipping her feet back into the pumps, she crossed her legs. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I finished up my first interview, and while I’m here my sister asked me to pick up something.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You have some fabric samples. They’re for table linens, I believe. Your assistant called us.”

  “Fabric samples. Table linens.” Elliot stared blankly at him for a moment, but quickly recovered. Cheeks still flushed, she straightened her back and selected a binder from a well-c
ategorized shelf. “Yes, of course. Here you go.”

  She stepped closer to him, keeping an arm’s length of distance between them as she handed him the binder.

  “Thanks.” He absently flipped through the pages. “I’ll give this to my sister.”

  “Okay.”

  On his way out, he nearly stopped to say something about the story he’d heard. Almost.

  While hearing the story forced him to recognize and appreciate that she’d loved him, it didn’t change the outcome. Remembering the hurt and disappointment from their past, he walked out of the house without another glance back. He didn’t want to rehash everything. He couldn’t deal with that kind of pain and disappointment again.

  THE NEXT MORNING, THE Engagements office was covered in an explosion of tulle, ribbon, and flower samples. Elliot had agreed to look after one of her bride’s daughters for the afternoon to give her a break. Abby had won over Elliot’s heart during a dress fitting a couple of weeks ago, which meant the three-year-old maintained free reign over her.

  She was working that to her advantage today. The little girl wanted to play wedding and thanks to Elliot’s supply box, she could do it with style. The added touch of elegance came with considerably more stress.

  Since she had a rare afternoon off from meetings, Elliot tried not to panic at her office’s disastrous state. While she usually liked to have everything in its place, she made an exception. She’d have plenty of time to organize and sterilize the room before her appointment the next morning.

  She had to remind herself of that a few times before completely relaxing and getting into the make-believe world.

  Elliot kneeled in front of Abby to place a garland of flowers on the girl’s head. She adjusted the ribbon and tulle tutu she made. For the finishing touch, she handed Abby a small bouquet.