ERIC WAS A FOOL. NEARLY a decade had passed, but little had changed. One word from Libby Lynch, and he still felt like an untalented loser with nothing to offer. And Elliot hadn’t done anything to stand up to her sister on any front. He’d wanted to believe it might be different this time around, but he’d been wrong. People didn’t change, not at the heart. Elliot still took orders from her family, and he was still a lovesick boy who would never be good enough for her.
He barely deserved to be called a man.
Throughout dinner he’d battled with his mixed emotions. Could he risk his heart again? Would he be able to ignore their past and handle the outcome if history repeated itself? Was he willing to be with someone whose family considered him a burden and mistake from her past?
By the end of the meal, he’d come to the conclusion that Elliot was worth the risk. He was willing to deal with pain-in-the-ass family members if it meant another chance with her.
But then his sister had brought up Ben Wick. Why would Sadie know who he was unless Elliot had mentioned him? She’d said they weren’t dating, but people didn’t make comments about possible weddings unless they had a reason for thinking one might be on the horizon.
He’d been stupid. As he sipped a glass of whiskey, his anger at Elliot turned toward himself. This was his fault. He’d had his chance and blown it—more than once. The first time, he’d been too young and stupid to see she needed more time to grow up, live life, and grieve her mother. The next time, she’d tried being kind to him, but he’d been a jerk.
Worse, he’d been too obtuse and stubborn to admit he still loved her. Even to himself.
As for her playing down the new relationship with Ben Wick when he’d not-too-subtly brought it up, well, she likely did it to keep her life private. Or to avoid hurting his feelings. She was the kind of girl who’d always try to let someone down gently.
Picking up the framed picture on his desk, the one from the day he’d landed his big investment for the Cav, he removed the back. He slipped out the photo hidden behind the picture of himself on the beach. It was one of the both of them—taken with his arm stretched out as far as it would go. Their young, bright faces beamed back at him. A pang of remorse ripped at his gut.
She looked happy in the photo. She deserved to be even happier now. Once upon a time, he’d been the man to make her smile, but he’d lost his chance. The least he could do was stay out of her way so she could have a reason to smile in the future.
Tossing the picture on his desk, he grabbed the bottle of whiskey and moved to pour himself another glass. A new message flashing on his phone’s screen gave him pause. He scrolled through the update from his personal assistant. She’d uncovered some news on Weddings by Will. From the sounds of it, he’d need to act fast.
From The Marrying Type Transcript
Filmed: August
Airing: December
Announcer: Our favorite Charleston wedding planner has more than high-profile weddings at stake.
Libby: Naturally, my father and I are handling the details. It’s a bit advanced for my sweet sister, who’s better at being a worker bee than strategizing. Right now, we’re bidding for a major contract with the Darla Dalrymple.
Announcer: The wife of South Carolina Senator Dalrymple.
Libby: We’ve also been offered a merger deal with a major national chain. They’d like to have a major East Coast presence, and we’re a major East Coast presence.
Walter: It turns out the CEO is a friend of a friend. He’s made quite a name for himself on the West Coast. He’s a planner to the stars and such. Now he’s in the area hoping to talk mergers with prominent East Coast companies. It’s an exciting prospect—having one large company with a bi-coastal presence.
Announcer: An interesting concept, but why the inner family secrecy?
Walter: My youngest has her hands full. I’d hate to worry her if this comes to nothing.
Announcer: But when will Elliot be clued in on this development?
Libby: She’s on a need-to-know basis for now.
Walter: We’ll tell her before this airs and before we sign the papers.
Announcer: But perhaps the youngest Lynch already knows more than they wagered.
Will: I briefly met Elliot at a party, and I was impressed. I’m hoping to stage another run-in sooner than later. She’s a woman who knows weddings.
Announcer: Yes, she is.
Chapter Twenty
“Heaven will be no heaven to me if I do not meet my wife there.”
~ Andrew Jackson
AFTER RESPONDING TO a handful of messages from vendors and brides, Elliot went to the kitchen for a bottle of wine. She’d make up for the calories with an extra-long run the next morning. Outside the kitchen entrance, she stopped short when she overheard the hushed whispers.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” The hard edge in Rosalyn’s voice sliced through Elliot. She took a shaky breath to calm the rapidly growing panic. “You’re ready to walk away after everything you’ve done to keep going the past decade?”
“We’ve given this a lot of consideration, and it’s the best option,” Walter said. “I’m tired, Libby isn’t interested, and Elliot can’t keep this going all alone.”
“Maybe you’re underestimating her.”
“The price is too good to pass on,” Libby said. “We’ll never get another offer like this. It’d be stupid to say no.”
“Will is giving us a fortune for our name and client list.” The pounding in Elliot’s heart stopped flat at her father’s words. The conversation jumbled together in her brain, but she understood what her father and Libby were saying. Will had made them an offer for Engagements, and they intended to take it. Still undetected in the doorway, she stepped into the room.
“But what about everything Elliot has done this summer?” Rosalyn asked. “She’s built up your bookings. She paid back the bank. She even put in those extra hours with the camera crew to get you more attention.”
“And now she’ll be able to stop,” Libby said. “I’m sure she’ll be relieved.”
“You’re wrong.” Rosalyn shook her head. “She’s put everything into making Engagements work, and this will break her heart. You sold your shares—and hers—to the highest bidder without even telling her you were in negotiations.”
“She’ll be thrilled to have the money,” Libby said.
“She’ll be relieved to do something else,” Walter agreed. “She always wanted to be a poet or world traveler. She can do that now.”
“Actually,” Elliot’s voice shook as three heads swiveled to watch her cross the kitchen to stand in front of them, “she can’t believe you’d do this without discussing it with her first.”
Walter got to his feet, but she held up a hand to stop him before he came any closer. “How long have the two of you planned to keep me in the dark on our company’s future?”
“We didn’t want you to worry,” Walter said. “You’ve never been much for business strategy, and we figured you had enough on your plate.”
“Like your little TV show and the Warner wedding,” Libby said, adding a layer of sweetness to her voice. “Honey, you’re going to burn out if you keep working like this.”
“We’re only doing what’s best for you.”
“You’ll be happier this way in the long run.”
“You—”
“Stop. Please. For once, let me talk.” Elliot’s voice shook with fury and unshed tears. “I have been a pushover where this family is concerned for too long, but I’m done. It stops now. I’ve stayed silent for years, but tonight I will talk and you will listen.”
Libby’s mouth opened to protest, but she stopped when Rosalyn covered her hand. Walter reached a hand toward Elliot, but her glare stopped him. “Take a seat, Daddy.”
Eyes wide, Walter nodded and returned to his chair.
Elliot clenched and unclenched her fist to buy a few more seconds to calm her nerves. While she wanted to scream, it wouldn�
��t get her far.
“How could you make a decision like this without me?” she asked at last. “Don’t you give me any credit for making this business work? Do you realize how close we were to losing it? We would’ve lost our name, the house, everything. I fought you every step of these changes, and now when they’re working you want to give up?”
“We’re not giving up,” Libby said. “We want to move on.”
“Why?”
“Please sit.” Walter gestured to an empty chair. “We’ll explain everything.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Elliot’s face grew more flushed. How could they do this to her? They weren’t just business partners. They were family. “You’re apparently not my boss anymore.”
“Please, give me a chance.”
Unable to come up with an excuse to rudely ignore her father’s request, given more politely, she shakily pulled out a chair and sat. Taking a hollow breath, she waited for him to speak.
“You should be proud of everything you did to keep Engagements running these past few months,” Walter said. “You added more value to the company. But we can’t keep fighting. Your sister and I are tired of the business, and we can’t do our share to make it grow.”
“But what about the Dalrymple prospect?” Elliot asked. “You said it would set us up for years.” She was grasping for straws. She’d never been a proponent of the business deal, but now it seemed like her only hope at talking them into giving Engagements—giving her—another shot.
“It’s not going to happen,” Libby said.
“Why not?”
“We’ve had meeting after meeting, and they don’t seem interested in our vision.” Libby sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “They don’t seem to have much of a clue about what they want.”
“Rumor has it they may hire back their old PR person,” Walter said.
“That’s it, I suppose,” Elliot said.
“It has to be,” he replied. “Weddings by Will made us an offer that was better than fair, and we took a vote. Majority ruled.”
“You’re only fifty percent of the board,” Elliot said, but caught Rosalyn shaking her head. “Aren’t they?”
“Rosalyn gave me her shares after your mother died,” Walter said. “It was her gift to ensure we had more stability.”
“You didn’t tell us?” She watched their reactions, and the fullness of the situation hit her. “You didn’t tell me.”
“No, I didn’t tell you,” he agreed. “You were a child, and we weren’t sure you’d stick around with the business.”
Everyone gave her a pointed stare, and she realized there was more to the explanation than what he gave. A year after her mother passed away, Elliot had been brokenhearted over breaking up with Eric. She hadn’t been interested in anything her family had to say and spent most of that summer taking extra classes as a distraction. Either they hadn’t told her because she’d been too busy, or they’d kept it hidden in case she’d built up the courage to go after Eric.
Still, after all this time, someone should have brought her up to speed. She glared at the paperwork sitting in the center of the table. Papers that spelled the end of her career.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“On September first, Weddings by Will assumes ownership of Engagements, including all intellectual property, copyrights, and customer lists,” Rosalyn explained. “The family will retain ownership of this house because you paid off the mortgage earlier this month.”
Well, that was something.
“And what happens to the clients we’ve already booked?” Elliot asked.
“The Crawford wedding will be our last—at least with us fully in charge,” Libby said. “We’ll assist Will with the rest of our schedule, getting him up to speed. But our contracts will be up at the end of the year. He may or may not extend them. It’s up to him.”
“We’ll be fired,” Elliot said
“Most likely,” Walter agreed. He didn’t seem too upset by the possibility. “He promised he’ll treat our customers like they were his own. You don’t have to worry their special days will be ruined.”
“You’ll have money from your part of the sale,” Rosalyn said. She was trying to make the situation better, but it wasn’t helping. “You can start over.”
“I don’t want to start over.”
“You have to.” Walter stared her directly in the eyes.
“Why?”
“Engagements was your mother’s dream,” he said. “We kept it alive longer than anyone expected, maybe longer than we should have. But the dream ended with your mother.”
“Maybe for you.” Elliot calmly rose to her feet. “But like usual, no one asked me about my wants or dreams.”
With as much dignity as possible, she left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She packed an overnight bag with less care and precision than she usually gave the task. She tossed her suitcase and laptop bag into the back of her car and drove toward another part of town.
Smyth threw open the door to his studio apartment while she was still walking up the steps. She’d called him on the drive to fill him in on what had happened.
“Bastards,” he said. “Sorry, I know they’re your family, but they’re total bastards.”
“Tell me about it.” She paused, clutching her purse tighter. “Can I stay with you while I figure out my life?”
He opened the door wider. “Come on in.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“In marriage do thou be wise: prefer the person before money, virtue before beauty, the mind before the body; then thou hast a wife, a friend, a companion, a second self.”
~ William Penn
SMYTH FRETTED OVER Elliot for the next twenty-four hours. He wisely kept his mouth shut when she spent the first evening poring over the final draft of the Warner-Crawford seating chart. At nine, he brought her a glass of wine and made up a bed on his futon.
“I’m sleeping here,” he’d said. “You’re taking my room. No arguments.”
The next day, Elliot avoided speaking to her family. She busied herself answering calls from brides and meeting with vendors. But her personal issues were never far from her mind. Every time she spoke with someone or made some sort of arrangement, she couldn’t get past realizing it might be the last time she spoke to a bride or florist. She still wasn’t sure she wanted to work for Weddings by Will after the Warner-Crawford wedding. She wasn’t sure she wanted the option.
She hadn’t even been able to tell Marissa what had happened. Smyth had taken care of that for her, and by some miracle, her cousin hadn’t called to ask for more details.
Fortunately, her family and professional strife kept her from spending every waking hour focused on Eric. Or rather, it should have kept her from obsessing.
Eric obviously wanted to avoid her. Usually he responded to texts and emails within in minutes—an hour tops. But the one she’d sent this morning—a complete rundown of the schedule from the rehearsal dinner through Sadie and Adam’s departure on Sunday—had gone unanswered.
While he may not want anything to do with her now, of one thing she was sure. Something had happened between them when they’d put together his sister’s slideshow. Then there was the spark at the baseball game, and he’d even asked her out. But something went wrong during the final tasting. Maybe Libby’s presence reminded him they carried too much baggage from their past.
They still cared for each other; she was sure of that. But caring and loving wasn’t always enough. Like her situation with work, maybe fighting for the past wasn’t worth the heartache and trouble.
When she returned from her appointments, Smyth had kindly picked up the supplies for the flower pot place card settings she still needed to assemble before Saturday. He’d even had the forethought to get her an iced coffee—with two sugars—to drink while she worked.
Smyth watched Elliot tackle the project in silence for more than an hour before he spoke up.
“We need t
o have ourselves a little chat.” When she pretended not to hear him, he took the seat across from her at the table. She reached for another name card, but he placed a hand on her arm giving her a moment of pause. “Hey. Take a break for a minute.”
“I’m busy.” She pulled her hand back and picked up the pen. “I have to finish these today.”
“You have plenty of time, and I’ll help,” he promised. “Come on.”
“I’m fine. I’m great.” She scrawled a name using the calligraphy she’d learned during a night course at the local community college. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk after we finish this wedding and Will gets his claws in our other clients.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Smyth muttered.
She stopped writing midway through the tag. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s talk.”
She shakily set down the pen and pushed the card away.
“I want to tell you about why I’m in Charleston.” He ran a hand through his hair and released a sigh. “I need to tell you. I should have told you weeks ago. Maybe it would have made a difference. I’m not sure how, but . . .”
Smyth broke eye contact as he trailed off. His fingers tapped on the tabletop. And suddenly, without him saying another word, she understood. Maybe not completely or without question, but Elliot realized Smyth’s cross-country move and her problems with Weddings by Will were somehow related.
“Go on,” she said, covering his hand in support. “I’m listening.”
Smyth flipped his hand over to hold onto her.
“My boyfriend and I had a big slump in business last spring. Summer was worse. Our debt grew bigger along with our stress.” He cleared his throat and stared at their linked fingers. “You understand what money problems will do to you.”
“I do.”
“I wanted to shake up our business plan,” Smyth said. “Find new ways to drum up new business.” He met her gaze. “Like what you did this spring.”
The Marrying Type Page 21
