“We were in debt long before this summer.”
“That’s right.” The loan—the main inspiration for most of her decisions during the past several months—had been taken out years earlier. When she’d started college.
“By now this probably seems like a moot point, but I want to tell you about the loan.” Walter placed his folded hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Will you stay and listen?”
She’d rather leave before her anger got the better of her and she started yelling at her father again—or worse, crying. She contemplated ignoring his request and walking out the door and delaying this conversation until after the wedding, but she was more curious than she cared to admit.
“I had to take out the loan,” he said. “We had your mom’s medical bills to pay off, and business was rough those last couple of years before she . . . passed.” His eyes filled, and he blinked a few times before continuing. “We didn’t have much left in the trust, and I ran through our savings trying to cover the loss in income and the hospital payments. Add to that overlapping college tuition for two children . . .”
He didn’t continue, and buried his face in his hands. She longed to reach out and give him a hug, but something held her back. Maybe her pride or guilt at realizing she’d contributed to the family’s debt kept her from comforting the man who’d tucked her into bed every night until she’d turned ten. Walter let out a short sob, and she couldn’t hold a grudge any longer. She stood up, walked around the desk, and threw her arms around her father.
“I understand,” she said, patting his back. “It makes sense. But why did we stop paying off the loan?”
Walt’s eyes shifted to the desktop. “Business wasn't great during the recession. We had a big slump."
"I remember." She'd taken a pay cut to make up for the downshift in business. It was one of the main reasons she'd never moved into her own place. By the time the business had bounced back, Libby was going through her divorce. She'd stayed to offer support. Eventually, she quit trying to find her own place, because it had been easy to stay at home.
“I should have managed business better, but I didn’t,” he said. He hesitated before asking, “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll stay for a couple of months and work through the transition.” She locked eyes with him. “But after we make sure our clients are okay, I’m done. I’m going to find something else to do.”
“I can talk to Will . . .”
“That might work for Libby, but it won’t for me.” She softened her tone. “This isn’t even about the sale anymore. I’ve given it a lot of consideration over the past couple of days. I get why you did it. I may not agree with how you went about selling the company behind my back, but I understand why. Just like I hope you’ll understand the reason I want to try something new.”
Walter offered Elliot a tissue, and she wiped her nose. “You look so much like her.”
“Who?”
“Your mother.” He pulled his lips into a tight grin. “You sound like her, too. Watching you run Engagements the past few months made me remember what it was like back in the early days of the business when I was following your mom around.”
“I hope I’m half as good of a woman as she was.”
“You are.” He patted Elliot’s hand. “I loved her. Time hasn’t changed how much. You can’t turn off love like that or the pain from missing her so much.”
“No, time doesn’t always change how you feel.”
“Something I’m sure you understand full well.” He grabbed hold of her hand. “I met him yesterday.”
“Who?”
“Eric Warner. He came here to pick up some materials for his sister. He seems like a nice young man.” Walter cleared his throat. “I never disliked him. He treated you well, and his manners were better than I expected for a Yankee. I still didn’t want you to marry him when you were only nineteen.”
“Would you ever have wanted me to marry him?” she asked. Walter squeezed his daughter’s hand again.
“I’ll admit, at the time I thought you could do better,” he admitted. “I wanted you to do better. You can’t deny the whole website deal of his sounded a little too good to be true.”
“But what do you think now?” she asked.
“He’s one hell of a catch.” Walter raised an eyebrow. “Why? Are you going to find out if a little of that old magic is still there?”
She smiled at his choice of words. “It’s a little late for a reconciliation, but I’m curious. Why the change of heart? Is it because he’s one of the world’s richest men under thirty?”
“That doesn’t hurt.” Walter winked. “But I think I’d like him anyway. You know, I spoke to him for a while.”
Elliot barely kept her jaw from falling to the ground.
“Don’t worry, I was the picture of politeness and humility,” Walter assured her. “He was kinder to me than I expected or deserved. We discussed business a little. Talked baseball—he understands the game well.”
“He does.”
“And I liked him.” Walter put an arm around her shoulders. “If you decide to take up with him again, well, I won’t stand in your way.”
She chose to ignore that last comment and put her arms around his neck for a hug. It wasn’t a full apology for what had happened, but it was better than nothing. Over his shoulder, she caught sight of his computer screen. Apparently he was in the process of sorting files to hand over to Weddings by Will. She recognized a file that had caught her attention before.
“While I was searching for the financial records a few months ago, I found a file on the computer.” She pursed her lips. “Are you writing a memoir?”
Walter chuckled and shook his head. “Not exactly. One night, while I was staying up late reviewing vendor requirements for an event, I had the notion I should try to write my life story. A couple of paragraphs in I realized I didn’t have much to say.”
Reaching over Elliot, he slowly clicked around the computer until he found the file named “memoir” and double clicked. “Go ahead. Read it.”
My life began the day I met my wife. We were visiting mutual friends on Hilton Head Island. She was in town during spring break, and I was a year out of college and indulging in the second of three “gap” years. Kelly Elliot took my breath away. I’d never met such a beautiful, poised young woman in my life—and my mother made me do cotillion. When she laughed at a joke I made, she stole my heart.
My life ended the day she slipped away after a long battle with cancer. When she died, my heart went with her. Years later, it’s a struggle to get out of bed every day to face a world without her. I still have our wonderful daughters, but even they are a reminder of what I once had and never will again.
This isn’t the way Kelly would have wanted me to live. “Man up, Lynch,” she would have said. “Be the father our daughters need, and the man I loved.”
I want to be him—the good, if often distracted, man she married—but I can’t. Maybe I’ve forgotten how.
When she finished reading, Elliot turned her gaze to her father.
“I’m a selfish man by nature, and probably even design. But when I was with your mother, I became someone else.” His jaw tightened. “After she died, I lost more than the other half of my heart. I lost the person who challenged me to be better every day. I should’ve been able to keep going for you girls, but I didn’t. I’m not sure I’ll ever be the kind of father you deserve.”
A tear slipped down his cheek. Elliot turned back to the screen and reread. She didn’t want to be mad at the man who’d written those words. She wrapped her arms around her father’s shoulders. When it came to a man still nursing a broken heart for the best woman who ever lived, she wouldn’t hold a grudge.
His arms came back around her, and for a few minutes, she was able to forget about the disappointment and disaster that had surrounded their family for far too long. And she was able to be his little girl again. This didn’t erase the whole past, but perhap
s, they would be able to be kinder to each other in the future.
EYES STILL PUFFY AND a little red from the five-minute cry she’d allowed after the conversation with her father, Elliot began the arduous process of sorting files in her office. She had four stacks lined up on the table. Financial records to copy and share with Will. Customer portfolios to copy and share. Documents to file into boxes to stash away in storage. And one for shredding. She was actually anxious to deal with the last pile. Nothing worked out a frenzy of emotions like purging the past.
“Are you crying?” She jumped at Marissa’s voice. Her cousin walked into the office surveying the activity.
Aside from organizing the paperwork, Elliot had already packed up their supply of emergency centerpiece candles and dried flower petals. Neatly stacked tubs of tulle and ribbon stood by the doorway waiting to be loaded up into her car. She planned to donate them to an afterschool program that needed craft supplies.
Elliot wiped her nose with a tissue to avoid sniffling again.
“No—it’s probably a summer cold or allergies.” She flashed a smile that almost reached her eyes.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Believe what? That someone else around here might get sick on occasion?” She sobered fast. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take a jab at you. I’m not myself today.”
“You’re wrong. This,” Marissa pointed to the organized chaos, “is totally and completely you. Crying isn’t.”
“I said it was allergies.”
“And I say you’ve never had allergies in your life.” Hesitating for a moment, Marissa patted Elliot’s shoulder. “You’re allowed to be sad about all of this.”
“I hope the change in ownership doesn’t ruin your filming schedule.”
“It won’t.” Marissa squeezed her shoulders and dropped her hands. “Entertaining as it might be to shoot the transition, we’re a wrap on season one tomorrow night.”
“And a wrap for Engagements on The Marrying Type.” How funny to realize how sad that made her. In a few short months, the unwanted production team and demanding shooting schedules had become her norm. “I need to tell you something.”
“What?” Marissa’s eyebrows creased. “You’re not worrying about the premiere are you? Everyone will love you when the show debuts next week.”
“No, I’m not worried.” Anxiety-ridden was more accurate, but she was trying not to dwell on the pitch in her stomach every time she imagined her face appearing on TVs nationwide. Still, she was curious about how the whole show turned out. “I want to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For this opportunity,” Elliot said. “I was less than gracious at first.”
“You were more than generous,” Marissa interrupted. “You gave us plenty of access to storylines, offered up space for us to conduct interviews and edit footage. This has been my best shoot ever.”
“But you saved us.” In more ways than Elliot could ever explain. “You gave my family another chance. You gave me a lifeline. I have to thank you for all of that.”
On impulse, she grabbed Marissa into a hug. The woman burst into tears and clutched onto her. Horrified at the reaction, Elliot gently patted her on the back and pulled away.
“Are you okay?” She searched Marissa’s face. “Are you pregnant? You’re never this emotional.”
“No, I’m not pregnant. We’re not planning on kids for a while—not while our production company keeps growing.”
“What, then?”
“I wasn’t sure whether or not I should tell you, but I have to say something.”
“What?” Elliot pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to fight the headache building. “You’re jumping all over the place in this conversation.”
“Let me show you.” She grabbed Elliot’s hand and led her upstairs to the bedroom-turned editing studio. She offered one of the chairs in front of a panel of screens.
“What’s going on?”
“Watch the monitors.”
Still confused, Elliot focused her gaze on the screen as the footage began.
Split screen of Eric and Elliot doing ITM interviews.
Producer (off-camera): Have you ever been in love?
Elliot: Yes.
Eric: Sure.
Producer (off-camera): What happened?
Elliot: I . . . we . . . can I say no comment?
Eric: No comment.
Announcer: Oh, come on, you two. Don’t play coy.
Elliot: I’m married to my work.
Eric: I’ll tell you anything you want to know about my business or my relationship with Sadie and my mom, but I’m not talking about my dating life.
Announcer: While our favorite Charleston wedding planner and her social media mogul client have been quiet about their romantic pasts, perhaps there’s something brewing.
At an early tasting, Eric and Elliot sneak frequent peeks while the other isn’t watching.
In the dance studio, Eric holds out his hand for Elliot. They move around the dance floor, dipping and spinning. Eric casts frequent glances at Elliot’s face. When the dance ends, they freeze in place. She turns, and her face is a breath away from his. Their chests rise up and down.
They sit together at the florist shop, heads close together comparing tulips and lilies. Eric mutters something and they both laugh. While she is looking the other way, Eric puts a loose tulip in her bag.
Before the baseball game, Eric glances up at the stands and finds Elliot seated with Smyth. His face lights up.
Cut to them seated together at the baseball game, their hands cover the microphones, but muffled voices come through.
Elliot: We were young. We made mistakes.
Eric: Maybe we’ve learned our lessons.
Camera cuts to close-up of Eric holding on to Elliot’s hands.
At the final food tasting, Eric pours her a glass of wine.
Eric: When the wedding is done, would you want to meet up? Would you have dinner with me?
Announcer: Is it possible the chemistry between Elliot Lynch and Eric Warner has more history than meets the eye? While we may have questions about their current and past relationship status, one fact is clear: Elliot and Eric have a spark.
At the baseball game their faces appear on the Kiss Cam. Surprise and panic flash across their faces for a second. Eric puts an arm around Elliot and they lean in to touch lips. His arms go tighter. Her hand rises to cup his face.
Cut to close-up view. They pull apart, open their eyes, and grin.
Elliot understood what Smyth had meant—the kiss had been almost too-hot-for TV. She wished her stomach hadn’t tangled into knots watching the segment. With their final grin frozen on screen, the knots turned into a clump.
Marissa was staring at Elliot, waiting for her to say something, but she couldn’t. Her mind blurred while she struggled to form a complete sentence. There were too many questions and even more answers she didn’t want to give.
She started with something easy. “I didn’t realize you had cameras set up at the restaurant before the tasting started.”
Marissa froze, perhaps waiting for her to say more. To offer an explanation. Instead, she said nothing more. “You aren’t mad?”
“When I signed up for this show, when Eric gave filming consent, you explained any and everything captured on film might one day appear on TV.” Elliot shrugged. “In the grand scheme, this isn’t terrible. At least it isn’t fabricated.”
“It’s real?”
Elliot nodded.
“He’s the guy you dated at UVA. Isn’t he?”
Her eyes darkened. “Are you asking as my cousin, or as the producer of this show?”
“Both.”
“I suppose you could find out for yourself. You’ve probably already put one of your PAs on the case.” What was the point of lying? “Yes, I dated Eric in college. We became best friends. We did everything together. We fell in love.”
“What happened?”
“We broke u
p when he left school to start the Cav. And that,” Elliot said, “is the only thing I will say until you show Eric the reel.”
Marissa gulped. “Will he be angry?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Elliot pushed up from her seat and glanced at the screen one more time. In the still, they seemed happy. Like they had been in the past. “I haven’t spoken publicly about our relationship out of respect for his privacy. And I’m not going to start without his permission.”
“Will you tell me if I take off my producer hat?”
Elliot shook her head. “Ask him.” Her phone’s alarm sounded. “We have one hour till the rehearsal. I need to pick up the mess I made downstairs before the bridal party—and my new boss—gets here.”
“I’m sorry about how this turned out for you.”
Elliot shrugged. “What are you going to do? I was outnumbered and outsmarted and sold out by my family. Which means I need to start job searching.”
“Maybe.” Marissa chewed on her lips. “I have an idea.”
“Uh oh.”
“The network loves Smyth’s show idea. They love the idea. They love Smyth.” Marissa narrowed her eyes. “And they love you.”
“That’s nice.”
“It’s more than nice. They want to sign another contract with you.”
“Why? I don’t have a wedding business for you to film.”
“No, but you’re still you.” Marissa grabbed a pile of fabric swatches out of Elliot’s hands and set them aside. “You have a way with people. You’re sweet. You’re smart. People like you.” She took a deep breath. “We want you to do a different show. It doesn’t have a name, yet, but you’d be perfect for it.”
Elliot watched Marissa’s face, trying to find if she was kidding. No smile lines around her lips. No twinkle in her eyes. She must be serious. “What’s the show?”
“We want you and a small crew to travel around the world exploring weddings in different countries. You’d find out old traditions, new trends, and take our viewers places they’ve never been.” Marissa gripped Elliot’s hands. “You’d get to see the world, Elliot. You’d get to go to the places you used to talk about visiting.”
The Marrying Type Page 23
