The Marrying Type

by Laura Chapman

  “Gandhi,” he finished. “You had that written on a notecard on your bulletin board back in college.”

  “It was one of my mom’s favorites,” she said.

  “I remember.” He moved his thumb across the letters once more, before setting her foot back on the ground. Eric straightened and cleared his throat. “For someone who gets mad every time someone compliments the scrolling quotes on her website, you sure seem to like them.”

  “I don’t get mad.”

  “Oh yeah? Why does your nose wrinkle up whenever Adam mentions your quote of the day?”

  “It does not.”

  “Does, too.”

  “Does—”

  “Fine.” Eric held up his hands in surrender. “You win.”

  Elliot shook her head and picked up some of the unsorted photos. Eric pulled back up to the table and selected his own pile of pictures.

  “It looks good on you,” he said.

  “The tattoo?”

  “Yeah, and the rebellious streak.”

  They exchanged grins and fell into a companionable silence while they worked. No cameras, lights, or microphones. No production assistants running around. No second or third takes.

  “We were pretty good together. Weren’t we?” She asked the question without thinking. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away.

  “No,” Eric said, lifting his eyes to her face. “We were better than good.”

  Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his gaze. The piercing blue was serious and steady. His face inched closer, pausing when his lips were a breath away. He hadn’t taken the time to shave this morning. She wanted to feel the scratch of his stubble on her chin. Her stomach twisted. If she moved forward a little more their lips would touch.

  Her cell phone rang.

  “Sorry,” she murmured. “I should take this in case it’s a bride.”

  Eric nodded and picked up a handful of photos. She answered the phone.

  “Ms. Lynch, it’s Will from Weddings by Will. How are you, sweetheart?”

  She cringed at the endearment—and his poor timing. “I’m with a client.”

  “Who?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Are the cameras rolling?”

  “No, we’re having an off-camera work day.”

  “Too bad.” He cleared his throat loud enough she had to pull the phone away from her ear. “What do you say we finally meet up for a cup of coffee? I have a few things I’d like to discuss with you.”

  “Can I talk to you later?” She glanced at Eric, who was pretending not to listen. “I’m in the middle of a project. I need to give it—and my client—my full attention.”

  “Sure. I’ll call you later.”

  She hung up the phone. “Sorry. Again.” She darted a sidelong glance his way after hanging up her phone.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah—a little pesky business.” She cleared her throat and casually brought up the real issue at hand. “I keep getting calls from this other wedding planner.”

  “Do you regularly speak with the competition?”

  “Only when they’re interested in buying us out.”

  The front door slammed open. Elliot’s heart pounded as Smyth stepped into the room with Chase and Marissa behind him toting a camera. Chase waved.

  Marissa narrowed her eyes when she caught sight of Elliot and Eric sitting together. “Why didn’t you tell me you two were working on something?”

  “We’re going through photos,” Elliot explained. “Not much of a photo op.”

  “I’d like to be the one to decide what is and isn’t worth filming.”

  “It was a last-minute request of mine,” Eric said. “She didn’t know.”

  Before his wife could say anything else, Chase set the camera aside and reached forward to shake Eric’s hand. “I’d like to thank both of you for your help with my sister. We owe you a lot.”

  “It was nothing,” Eric said. “Heloise already repaid the money, and I gave her a ride to my sister’s place. It was no big deal.” Eric cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the praise. “Elliot was the one who got there and settled everything before I even arrived.”

  “We still appreciate what both of you did.” Chase rolled his shoulders and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “We’re especially grateful for the deal you had made for her.”

  “What deal?” Eric glanced between Chase and Elliot.

  “The charges against her were dropped,” Chase said. “She basically got a slap on the wrist with probation. Her record will be clear in two years if she fulfills the requirements.”

  Eric’s eyes focused on Elliot, and she tried to ignore their stares. They didn’t owe her any gratitude. Rosalyn did most of the work. After Elliot told her what had happened, the woman had called Ben Wick.

  Within a few days, Ben made sure the charges were dropped and Heloise was on her way to rehab. She was by no means off completely. The arrangement required her to go to alcohol counseling, complete volunteer work, and stay out of trouble. She would also be in rehab until a few days before the wedding.

  If the experience taught Heloise a lesson, the trouble would be worth it.

  “I hope Heloise is doing okay,” Elliot said. “I haven’t spoken with her since she . . . went away. But she seemed optimistic.”

  “She is,” Chase agreed. “The whole situation gave her a good wake-up call. We appreciate what you did.”

  “We were glad to help,” Elliot said.

  Eric remained silent throughout the exchange, but he never took his eyes off of Elliot. He finally opened his mouth to say something, but his phone rang. “Damn,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I have to go, but I’ll talk to you later.” He met her gaze, sending a shiver down her spine. “I’ll talk to you later,” he repeated. He said his good-byes and left with the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder.

  She watched him walk out the door and turned back to face three expectant faces. Elliot returned her attention to the photos, hoping they’d take the hint to leave her alone.

  From The Marrying Type Transcript

  Filmed: August

  Airing: December

  Announcer: With a week to go until the Warner-Crawford wedding, our Charleston wedding planner and her team are back at the bridal boutique for the bride’s final dress fitting. Will the dress be everything they’ve dreamed?

  Sadie steps out in her gown and veil.

  Elliot and Smyth: (gasps of approval)

  Elliot: You’re beautiful.

  Smyth: You’re gorgeous. Work it, girl.

  Sadie: (staring at reflection in mirror) Wow.

  Smyth: Your future hubby is a lucky man.

  Elliot: You and Adam have a lifetime of happiness ahead of you. I’m sure of it.

  Announcer: The dress is a hit. Way to check another item off of your to-do list. The countdown is on for wedding day.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “When I design a wedding dress with a bustle, it has to be one the bride can dance in. I love the idea that something is practical and still looks great.”

  ~ Vera Wang

  WANTING TO SAVE THE big reveal for her wedding day, Sadie had kept the final dress fitting invite list small: just Elliot, Smyth, and the camera crew. They made the appropriate sighs of approval when the seamstress led Sadie out of the dressing room. Neither planner would admit it, but sometimes they’d had to feign enthusiasm in the past. Today there was no need. The bride was gorgeous. The gown fit perfectly. Elliot walked across the room to adjust the bride’s skirt and veil before giving Sadie her first glimpse in the mirror.

  Sadie stared at her reflection. She turned from side to side, lips pursed. When she finally opened her mouth to speak, a sob came out instead of words.

  Everyone froze in horror. Smyth’s jaw dropped. The seamstress’s face turned white, and her pin cushion dropped to the floor. Even Elliot stood in shell-shocked silence as she tried to comprehend
Sadie’s reaction. Brides cried all the time in dress shops, but unlike those times, these weren’t tears of joy.

  Regaining her wits at last, Elliot went into action. She pulled a bottle of water and a pack of tissues out of her purse and rushed back to the bride’s side. Opening the bottle, she placed it in the woman’s hands and urged her to drink.

  “Can you please give us a few minutes?” Elliot asked Rosalyn and the seamstress. “We’ll call you when you’re needed.”

  Elliot soothed Sadie by rubbing her back in gentle circles with one hand and offered tissues with the other. Marissa opened her mouth to speak, but closed it as quickly when Elliot shook her head. Sadie needed a moment.

  Several moments and tissues later, the bride’s sobs turned to hiccups. Elliot raised the bottle of water to Sadie’s lips and waited for her to drink.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Elliot asked.

  Shaky and slightly embarrassed, Sadie cleared her throat and raised her eyes to Elliot’s. “I wish my dad was here.” She wiped her face. “It just hit me. I wish my dad was here.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “I saw myself as a bride, and I realized it’ll be my brother and not my father walking me down the aisle,” she said. “I love my brother, but I want my dad. I barely remember him. People tell me how wonderful he was. How proud he’d be. But it’s not the same.” She took another drink of water. “Sometimes I’m jealous of my mom and brother for their memories. They miss him. I miss the idea of him.”

  Sadie blotted her eyes and took a shaky breath. “Some of my friends take their fathers for granted. I resent them. I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?”

  “You’re not a bad person, you’re wonderful.” Before the girl interrupted, Elliot continued. “I grew up with my mother. We had a relationship, which means I don’t completely understand what you’re feeling. But I understand what it’s like to want someone who can’t be there.”

  Elliot brought the bride in for a hug. Sadie let out a tiny sob but nodded. She caught her reflection in the mirror and grimaced.

  “I’ve made a mess of my face.”

  “You’re still beautiful.” Elliot helped Sadie to her feet. “Even with that red nose. How about we finish this fitting and go split a piece of cake?” She glanced over at Smyth, who was chatting with Rosalyn. “Mr. Metabolism will probably hog everything for himself, but we can fend for ourselves.”

  ERIC’S PALMS CLENCHED into fists, and he raised his voice when he repeated his order. “All of the foundation’s charitable acts will be done anonymously. We’re not doing this for the publicity. We’re giving back because it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Which is noble of you, sir,” his VP of marketing said, barely flinching on the video screen. “But people are going to wonder what the foundation actually does if you never make any public statements.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It might to donors.”

  He released a sigh and rubbed his temples to dull the ache forming. “We don’t need donors. I’m the donor.”

  “The publicity isn’t only for you or the company,” she stammered. “It also raises awareness for your causes.”

  He hadn’t considered that. But while supporting the families of fallen police officers and breast cancer research were causes he cared about, he still didn’t want the attention. “Come up with a new proposal for how we can promote them without seeming showy.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “The foundation isn’t about patting ourselves on the back.” He kept his voice stern and his face expressionless. “Your plan needs to reflect that.”

  “Of course,” the marketing executive said. She signed out of the video conference call leaving him alone with his assistant back in San Francisco.

  “Do you have anything else you’d like me to handle?” she asked.

  He started to say no, but stopped himself, a lingering issue still weighing heavy on his mind. “I want you to do some research for me.”

  “Absolutely. What about?”

  “Find out everything you can about Will Cousins.” It had taken some digging to figure out who was behind the potential Engagements buyout, but fortunately Eric knew the right people to ask. “He’s the CEO of Weddings by Will.” Eric absently tapped his fingers on the desktop. “I’ve done a little research, but everything I have is public record.”

  “You want me to get some information that’s off the record.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” She hesitated a moment before ending her side of the conversation. “Can I ask what this is about? Does your sister want to switch planners this close to the wedding?”

  “No, we’re happy with our planner.”

  “I caught an advertisement for the TV show.” She flashed a bright grin. “I can’t wait to watch the premiere.”

  “It should be interesting.”

  “I still don’t understand,” his assistant said. “Why am I researching another planner?”

  Because he’d met the man at his sister’s party, and now he was calling Elliot. Because he wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. Because he wanted to find out why Elliot’s face had gone an angry shade of red when he called.

  “It’s confidential for the moment,” he said at last. That was a stretch, but to a degree, it was the truth. “Just get me the information. Please.”

  ELLIOT, SMYTH, AND Sadie ditched the film crew—much to Marissa’s chagrin—and stopped at an Italian café for coffee and ordered a piece of tiramisu, a cannoli, and a few flavors of biscotti.

  “You haven’t gained an ounce since your last fitting,” Elliot told the worried bride. “You can afford to splurge a little with ten days to go until your wedding.”

  “I don’t need an excuse to eat,” Sadie said, taking a healthy bite of cannoli. “But I appreciate it regardless. Oh my God, this is amazing.”

  Smyth said nothing but nodded appreciatively, taking a big bite of his own piece of chocolate cake and polishing off another biscotti.

  “Be careful,” Elliot warned. “If you get too close, he might eat you, too.”

  Smyth shrugged off the insult while Sadie smothered a laugh.

  “I have some news,” Sadie said. “I spoke with Heloise last night.”

  “How is she?” Elliot asked. “She sent me a short thank you note, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

  “She’s as good as can be expected” Sadie said. “Actually, she is better than most people in her situation should be. She landed a date for the wedding.”

  Smyth’s eyes widened. “She found a date in rehab?” he asked, his mouth still full. “Your brother isn’t taking her?”

  “No and God no,” Sadie said. “My brother assures me there is not, and has never been, anything romantic between them aside from mild flirtation—and only on her end. They went out to dinner once, because she’d said there was something wedding-related to discuss, but that turned out to be a ruse. Her date isn’t from rehab, but he did visit her there.”

  “Who?”

  “Remember the lawyer you found her?” Sadie asked.

  “No.” A grin spread across Elliot’s face. “She’s taking Ben?”

  “Yes.” Sadie shook her head and took another bite. “Somehow or another, Heloise has turned her lawyer into a boyfriend.”

  “Speaking of last-minute wedding dates, is your brother bringing anyone?” Smyth asked, ignoring the glare Elliot sent his way.

  Sadie shook her head.

  “Why not?” Smyth asked. “The gossip magazines make it sound like he always has someone.”

  “Those are mostly stories,” Sadie said. “He’s been so busy with work the past few years, he’s only gone on a few dates. And most of those are for business purposes. Plus between helping me with the plans and getting ready to launch his new charity initiative, he barely sleeps. Dating isn’t on his list of priorities.”

  “What charity initiative?” Smyth asked.

 
“It’s fantastic,” Sadie said. “It’s totally Eric, and I’m completely proud of him. But my lips are sealed until he makes the official announcement this fall.”

  “Come on.”

  “Nope.”

  “Please?”

  “Not happening.”

  They bantered back and forth as Smyth tried to learn a few secrets and Sadie vowed to protect them. Elliot barely paid attention, because her mind was on something else. Eric hadn’t been quite the playboy people had made him out to be. He wasn’t dating Heloise. And more importantly, he didn’t have a date for the wedding. Elliot grinned. All of those facts opened up all new possibilities.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Being married is like having somebody permanently in your corner, it feels limitless, not limited.”

  ~ Gloria Steinem

  THE SUNDAY AFTERNOON before the wedding, the Warner-Crawford party and friends met for a Charleston RiverDogs game at the Joe. Marissa had arranged for her crew to film the outing, and two cameras were already in position. Elliot arrived an hour before the first pitch with Smyth in tow. They’d been ordered to take part in this shoot because Marissa insisted a wedding planner had to be included in every scene.

  Smyth stared up at the bleachers and froze. “I am not sitting in one of those crappy seats for the next three hours. I don’t care what the natural light does for my complexion on camera. I don’t do metal bleachers.”

  “I hate to break it to you, my delicate flower, but this might take longer,” Elliot said. “Marissa will keep us here however long it takes to get her shots.”

  “What are we doing here again? At a baseball game?”

  “We’re building the Warner-Crawford storyline.” Elliot shrugged helplessly at Smyth’s glare. “What? I’m telling you what Marissa told me when I asked the same question.”

  “But why baseball? This is a show about weddings?”

  “Out of the list of possible non-planning activities Marissa gave, the bride and groom liked this and dance lessons best,” Elliot said. “It’s too bad you missed the dance class. You would’ve enjoyed it.” Armed with popcorn, a hot dog, and two bottles of water, Elliot needed to sit before she dropped her snacks. Stepping around Smyth, she began the climb up the stands. “You’re welcome to wait in the car.”