“Of course he is!” she gushed. “You, my friend, are social media gold! And I’m mining for every nugget. Yes, yes, and yes!”
A giggle of joy rose up in Cindy. “That’s awesome.”
“Oh, honey, we rode our sleigh right past awesome a while ago. My followers are going to eat this up with a fork and spoon and come back for seconds and thirds. You are the epitome of an Aisle Files bride, and I love everything about this event. And so will they!”
Cindy smiled so broadly it hurt her cheeks. “I’m so glad. I don’t want the story to be about me, though. This is about the Starling?—”
“The bride is the heart of every feature I do, even the ones that are about a venue like this. I’m so excited I could cry. Hashtag secondchances, hashtag happilyeverafter, hashtag remarriedinstyle. Where will you walk the aisle? Take me through it again.”
Cindy flipped the camera down the length of the room, pacing slowly so Dominique could imagine herself in the bride’s place.
“Right here. We’ll set chairs in two blocks with this center aisle. Flowers are winter green and white, with pops of red because it will be two weeks before Christmas.”
Dominique was murmuring, “Oh, my gosh, I’m in love.”
Cindy reached the raised stage and lifted the phone, smiling with pride. “And here is where we’ll say our vows.”
There was a pause. “Wait. What is that monstrosity?”
Cindy laughed, pretty sure what Dominique meant. The trellis loomed large, weathered and worn, solid oak and handmade joints.
“It’ll look better with flowers,” Cindy assured her.
“It will look better in a bonfire.”
Cindy swayed a little at the heartless comment. She took a deep breath and a step closer, determined to defend the piece of family history.
“Well, to be perfectly honest, it’s a wedding arch, carved by my grandfather Owen in 1939 as his gift to his bride, my grandmother, Irene. Every Starling couple since has married under it.” Everyone except her, but she left that out. “My fiancé, Jack, hauled it in here just last month so we could resume the tradition for our wedding.”
Dominique pursed her glossy lips. “Oh, honey. It’s gotta go.”
Cindy blinked, then laughed. “It’s not going anywhere.”
“It’s…quaint,” Dominique allowed, her tone dipped in honey but edged with steel. “But it’s an atrocity. Even with that cute family backstory, this is not going to fly in the viral world. You want to capture heartsandclicks? You need chic. Symmetry. Florals that explode on Instagram. That thing looks like it belongs in somebody’s great-grandmother’s garden.”
This time, Cindy’s laugh grew nervous. “Well, itwasin my grandmother’s garden. We brought it in.”
“Then put it back, Cindy.” Dominique softened her smile, but her head still shook. “Romance, big views, heart-tugging second chances? Yes, please. But something that looks like it was cut by Daniel Boone and nibbled by the local deer? Nope. We’ll pass.”
Pass? Her heart dropped. “You mean…you’re not coming?”
“Yes, we’re coming, but that thing is going. You can bring it back afterwards if you like, but trust me on this, brides won’t want it. Every one of them will demand you move it.”
“We’ll cover it in flowers.”
“Nostalgia is not a trend. Trust me.”
Cindy’s hand tightened on the phone. “It means something to us. To our family.”
“Of course it does,” Dominique said smoothly. “But this is business, darling. You’re launching a wedding brand, not a genealogy tour. Other than that, the room is perfection.”
Cindy forced a nod, even as her stomach turned. “All right. I…see what you mean.”
Dominique looked down at some notes, already moving on. “Perfect. Now, let’s talk logistics. My team will arrive a few days before the wedding.”
“Will you need accommodations?”
“No, we’ll take care of all that. We’ll put you out plenty, don’t worry. Let me see, what else…”
