by Nancy Warren
“Right. Sorry. Back to your angst.”
“Ow,” she howled and immediately he knew that she was multi-tasking too. He recognized the meaning of that howl.
“Burn yourself with the soldering gun?”
“Yes.” She sounded like she had a wad of chewing gum in her mouth but he knew she sounded muffled because she was sucking on her burned finger.
“Poor baby. Want me to come over and administer first aid?”
She sighed, the sigh of a woman who has too much work on her plate and too little time for stolen hours of sex in the afternoon. “I’d love too, but I’ve got to finish this collection.”
“I know. And I’ve got to get the bugs ironed out of this new program.”
Okay, so he wasn’t getting laid this afternoon. He had a few good housing possibilities. He’d check out the places, narrow down the selection then let Erin choose.
It would be okay, he told himself. He and Sadie would get used to living in a new place. Everything was going to be fine.
Chapter Four
When Erin arrived at the wedding planning offices of Natalie Saatchi her stomach dropped as soon as she walked in. All around the reception office were poster-sized photographs of couples getting married. Nothing against couples getting married. She was a fan of the practice. Was planning to do the same herself. What got her belly button hitting her instep and bouncing was the way all the photos looked so generic. The bride’s dress from someplace called The Bridal Boutique or the Bridal Shoppe, all poofs of tulle and yards of train. The grooms in their tuxes. The venue: everything from the rustic wedding chapel to the studiedly casual gazebo. As though if you airbrushed and posed and photo-shopped long enough you could create a perfect, timeless moment that probably didn’t reflect reality at all. It was all so phony.
She gave her name to the receptionist who looked exactly like the perfect bridesmaid. The winsome, lithe young woman smiled her perfect smile and said, “I’ll let Natalie know you’re here.”
She was staring, with utter disdain, at a photograph of a cake that seemed inspired by the Mad Hatter’s tea party when a voice said, “I know. Lewis Carroll has a lot to answer for.”
She turned, surprised that someone had read her thoughts and discovered a woman about her own age with brown curly hair, big brown eyes and freckles. “I’m Natalie,” she said.
If the receptionist looked like the perfect bridesmaid, Natalie looked like the ideal maid or matron of honor. That best friend you’ve had since high school that you tell all your secrets to. The one who suffered through all your bad date stories and your, “Oh, I really like him, I hope he calls,” moments. Who laughs at your jokes and drives you home after you dump the guy you once wished would call.
In her turn, she laughs about her hopeless love life and the diet that never works. She’s Rosalind Russell to your Marilyn Monroe.
Except that Erin was no Marilyn Monroe. But she liked this woman on sight. She liked the glint in her eye, humor bordering on evil. Somehow, she felt that Natalie might just make it possible for her mother and her to work together.
Natalie held out her hand and Erin shook it. “I’m Erin. And I’m terrified.”
“Of the wedding or your mother?”
“Both.”
Natalie put one arm around Erin and gave her a quick hug. As though they’d been friends for years. “I scheduled you in a half hour before your mom.”
“Really?” Her mother had decided to fly in to Seattle so Erin would first see her at this appointment with the wedding planner. Afterward, they were meeting Jared for dinner. Her mom had declined all offers to stay in Kaslo. “I need room service, a spa and a gym. Is there a hotel in Kaslo that can offer those things?”
“Not all in one place.”
“Well, then.”
So she was putting up at the Westin. Trish, Jared’s mother was looking after Sadie for the evening so that Jared could meet his soon-to-be Mother-in-law.
She was amazed that Natalie had thought to schedule some time with the two of them before her mom showed up. Perhaps, if she could explain her ideas to the wedding planner, she had a tiny hope of getting her way on a couple of things.
Natalie ushered her into an office that looked like a regular office. Sure, there were copies of bridal magazines on the desk top but otherwise, it seemed like a normal work environment. There was a computer humming, a filing cabinet, pictures on the wall that were more scenic than bridal. After the weddingpalooza out front, this was an oasis of non-bridal calm.
“So,” Natalie said, as she sat herself behind her desk and motioned Erin to a visitor’s chair, “Tell me what you want?”
Erin had come here ready to battle. She had the clenched fists and the heightened breathing to prove it. In that one sentence, Natalie had put herself on Erin’s side. At least for the next thirty minutes.
“I want a small wedding,” she said. “I almost got married once before and it was going to be big and elaborate and very ‘society’.” She hated using air quotes but somehow it seemed fitting when she said ‘society.’
Natalie nodded.
“I don’t live in New York anymore. I have a different life now, with a very different man.” She pictured Jared who was so much more comfortable in a worn pair of jeans and one of his endless plaid shirts. “I’m different now. Jared’s been married before. He’s a widower. And he has a daughter, Sadie. We play the Best Stepmother Ever game where I retell all the old fairy tales where the stepmother is an evil witch and turn her into a good person.” She hadn’t meant to talk about the Best Stepmother ever thing. It just popped out where she’d intended to explain that she didn’t want any other attendants.
“That’s such a great idea. I bet she loves you already.”
“I hope so. I really love her.”
“So, obviously you want her to be in the wedding party.” Natalie punched a few strokes on her keyboard.
“Yes. Absolutely. She’s the only attendant I’m having. I’m designing and making both her dress and my own.”
Natalie nodded but there was something akin to sympathy in her eyes. She hadn’t even met Erin’s mom yet but already she seemed to have some idea what Erin was up against. “Do you have any sketches? Or pictures? Anything?”
Erin rooted through her bag, pulled out her notebook. Flipped open to the page for her dress. “Turn the page and Sadie’s dress is right there”
Natalie had pulled the design book toward her in a hesitant way but when she saw the sketches she pulled the book closer. “Wow. That is an amazing dress. Oh, my. If I ever get married, which I doubt, that is exactly the kind of dress I’d want.”
“I know, right? Enough with the poofs and the tulle.”
“You’ve somehow managed to incorporate some traditional elements, but this dress is totally original.” She squinted closer. “And what are these?”
“That’s the jewelry that goes with the dress.” Erin reached into her bag one more time and pulled out a see-through plastic sandwich bag. She opened the bag and turned it upside down, letting the earrings and custom headpiece fall out into her hand. She passed the trio over to Natalie.
Natalie gazed at the bling in her palm and then at the designs on paper. “These are amazing.”
“I’m a jewelry designer,” Erin said.
“I know but I thought you did craft fair stuff, sold a few of your pieces on Etsy. I had no idea you were this talented.”
She flipped the page then and Erin watched her smile as she took in the gown that was similar to Erin’s but made for a six- year old. “Oh, this is awesome. Not cloyingly cute but a dress that a child could love.”
“Exactly.” She felt a surge of relief. “So, you’ll support me against my mother?”
There was a long pause. A pause so pregnant it was going to need to be induced any minute. “May I make a suggestion?”
Erin’s euphoria started to fade. “Okay,” she said cautiously.
“I love, love, love your des
igns. But I’m getting a strong vibe from your mother. She has…certain expectations.”
“But it’s my wedding.”
“I know. But as a wedding planner I have to be honest and tell you that it’s your mother’s wedding too. You can argue all you like but in the end, your mother has as much or more invested than you do. And I’m not only talking money. If girls have dreams of prince charming waltzing into their lives, mothers of daughters have dreams of their daughters as fairy princesses.”
“I’m thirty years old,” Erin said. “My fairy princess days are long over. If I ever had any.”
“Right. I totally get that. You have one way you want your wedding to be. Your mother has another. My suggestion is that we take your incredible design to a woman who is, in my opinion, the best seamstress in Seattle. No. In the Pacific Northwest. You can design. But she can sew. Between the two of you I think you could make a dress that would please you and your mom.”
“But I was planning to sew my own dress.” She sounded a little weak and she knew it. Truth was, her sewing skills weren’t half as strong as her design skills. The way Natalie was looking at her she got the feeling the wedding planner suspected as much.
“I promise you, she’d respect your design completely. She’ll take your sketch and create a gown that will fit you perfectly and do justice to your vision.”
She considered arguing the point but in truth the idea of not having to sew two important dresses was pretty appealing. “Okay,” she said.
And just like that, compromise #1 had been achieved.
And her mother had yet to cross the threshold.
“Good. That’s excellent.” Natalie stared at the jewelry some more. “You know,” she said, “I deal with jewelers all the time. Would you like me to show them these?”
And in that moment, all thoughts of her wedding flew out of her head. “Oh, my gosh. Could you? Most of my work is in museum gift shops and jewelry boutiques back east. And – well,” she dug out a business card “Go to my website and you’ll see the kind of work I do. But I’m thinking of designing an entire wedding line. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, cufflinks, headpieces. I’ve got so many ideas. But I like to keep my production limited so these would be boutique items.”
“Absolutely. But I think these could really be successful. The vibe is so modern while still tipping a hat to the traditional.”
“Exactly. Because I think the institution of marriage is obviously traditional while every bride is her own person. Modern and unique.”
“I like it.”
They were arguing the merits of adding real pearls to her design line up when Erin’s mother walked in.
Mother wasn’t the first word that would come to mind when you looked at Adele Nash. She had the body of an athlete, slim and toned. Her hair was thick and brunette with not so much as a hint of gray. Her complexion was flawless. Sure, every cosmetic procedure that could slow or hide aging was part of her mother’s regime, but the skin that was plumped and de-wrinkled and stretched was, itself, nearly flawless. She dressed expensively and with taste. She had her own shopper at Saks. And her hairdresser had several A list celebrities on his list.
She was, in fact, a hottie.
“Hello, darling,” Adele said, stepping into the room and holding out her arms. She waited until Erin rose and went to her.
As always when she saw her mother, Erin experienced both a rush of love and an equal rush of irritation. Really? Who air-kissed their only daughter?
After the air kiss and a hand shake with Natalie so brief that Erin doubted any skin had touched. It was like an air-handshake – her mother got down to business.
“I think your cousin Rachel’s son Zack should go down the aisle with your step-daughter-to-be.”
“I didn’t know Rachel had kids.”
“Darling,” she said as though Erin had committed a breach of social etiquette. “In fact, she has two. The elder got into American Ballet Theatre’s junior program. Such an honor. And Zack is some kind of musical prodigy. The violin, I think. Maybe the bag pipes. In any case, very talented.”
“Maybe he could play a Bach violin concerto. Or Scotland the Brave. You know, depending.”
Natalie put her hand to her mouth but her laugh still squeezed out like a tortured sneeze.
“You may think this is funny but I take the wedding of my only daughter seriously,” Adele said. And then she sighed and glanced up at the ceiling as though to say, And please God may she actually not get dumped at the alter this time. If she’d been Catholic she’d have crossed herself. But since she was only half Catholic and the other half Jewish, she contented herself with a sound something like “aye,” which Erin always thought of as being half way between Oy, vey, and Ave Maria.
As though to appease Adele and heaven knew, Erin understood the impulse, Natalie said, “Erin’s chosen the best dressmaker in all of the Pacific Northwest to sew her gown.”
The way Adele Nash looked down at her, it was clear the Pacific Northwest was to New York what a hunk of granite was to a flawless diamond.
“And have you decided on the rest of the wedding party?”
“Well, obviously Jared’s going to choose his own best man.”
She sighed. But didn’t say anything.
Erin figured she might as well get all the difficult ones in at once while her mother might still be in the glad-to-see-her honeymoon. “And Cupid’s going to be the ring bearer.”
“Who’s Euclid?”
“Not Euclid. Cupid.”
“You know an actual person named Cupid? Honestly, why can’t people give their children normal names?”
“It’s not a person, Mom. Cupid is a dog. The Border collie Jared and I adopted.”
The frosty gaze suggested a mathematician thousands of years old might have been more acceptable to her as a ring bearer. “You are suggesting a dog play a vital role in the wedding party?”
“Cupid’s not only a dog, Mom. He’s part of our family.”
“Is this dog well-behaved? Is he trained?”
“Not like Superdogs or anything. Though he can do this cute thing where he stands on his hind legs and sort of dances.”
“You are suggesting a canine ballerina be the ring bearer in my only daughter’s wedding.”
At this point she’d have caved. No question. She’d have rolled over and exposed her soft underbelly like Cupid did when he wanted a tummy rub. But it wasn’t only her anymore. She had Sadie to think of. And Sadie had made her promise that Cupid could be a ring bearer. “Yes, I am. And it’s non-negotiable.”
What she quickly learned was that in order to keep Cupid as the ring bearer she had to compromise – make that cave – on a heap of things she’d planned to be firm about. Like, for instance, the size of the wedding.
“I’ve made a few additions to the guest list,” her mother said.
“How many additions?”
“Darling, you left out half the family. And there are people we’ve known forever who would be absolutely devastated not to be included. You can’t be selfish at a wedding, you know.”
She and Natalie exchanged glances and she could see Natalie’s expression said, “See? I told you.”
“How many.”
“I’ve managed to pare the list to one-fifty.”
“One-fifty? For a second she thought her mother was referring to the time. It took her about twenty seconds to clue in. “One hundred and fifty guests?” She heard her voice rise.
“That’s the smallest number I could manage.”
“Does this include Jared’s list?”
Her mother waved a perfectly-manicured hand. “Of course not. Jared’s family may ask whomever they please, of course.”
“Jared put ten people on his list.”
“Well then.”
“We can’t have one hundred and fifty guests on the bride’s side and ten on the groom’s side.”
“I’m sure we can convince some of our family and friends to sit o
n the groom’s side. Just to even things out a bit.”
Natalie must have seen she was about to act out a scene from a horror movie, something where her head would turn in a complete circle perhaps, or where an alien being would rip through her chest wall. Before Erin could perform her horrific stunt, Natalie said, “And where were you thinking for a venue?”
“Well, obviously, the little rustic inn in the woods won’t do.”
Erin had to admit to being a little impressed. Her mom could do air quotes with only her voice. She made the Kaslo Inn sound like something out of Little House on the Prairie. Or Deliverance.
She wanted to have her wedding at the Kaslo Inn. But there was no possible way one hundred and fifty – no, one hundred and sixty souls could fit in the tiny spot.
“There are some lovely hotel ballrooms in Seattle.”
“NO!” She had yelled the word even as she was thinking it. As both of the other women turned to her, Erin took a steadying breath and spoke more calmly. “No. Jared and I agreed that we are getting married in Kaslo. It’s where we’re planning to make our home. Our friends are there. Jared only goes into Seattle for work and I only go into Seattle for shopping or business.”
“Well, where in Kaslo can you accommodate one hundred and sixty wedding guests?”
And in that moment she bowed to the inevitable. The Kaslo Inn couldn’t possible accommodate everyone inside. But the grounds were substantial. “We’ll have to put up tents in the garden.”
“Tents?” Her mom sounded like they were planning a weenie roast for the Boy Scouts.
“A garden wedding,” Natalie hastily intervened. “We’ll have an al fresco reception. It will be beautiful. The wedding is right near the full moon, which would be gorgeous.” Adele still looked stony. “And Zack can play his violin in the garden.”
“Or his bagpipes.”
Her mother pulled out an electronic planner and consulted her notes. “What about catering?”
“The inn can do the catering,” Erin said.
“Oh, really. Our guests are sophisticated people, Erin.”
“Too bad, because I’m serving forest mushrooms and grubs.”
