“Oh, no, no problem at all, Jenna,” Cindy said brightly, her voice dipped in that professional honey she’d perfected over thirty years in hospitality. “We completely understand. Plans change. I’ll go ahead and cancel the tour for January.”
On the other end of the line, the young woman sounded almost apologetic. “You’ve been so kind, Cindy. It’s just—well, I saw the Grand Hyatt’s Instagram last night, and they’re doing these crazy aerial shots with drone footage and custom snow machines, and it just looked so… magical. They’re offering a new package, with champagne ice sculptures and a full media team, even for a wedding as small as mine. My mom said it’s once in a lifetime, and…well, you know how it is.”
Cindy forced a smile the woman couldn’t see. Now Grand Hyatt was after the “intimate wedding” market? Would that beast never get off her back?
“Of course I do. You need to go where you feel your day will be spectacular.”
There was a soft, guilty laugh. “I really did love the look of your space, but I don’t see much about it online.”
“We’re new.”
“I guess,” she said. “But I do want a place that has clout, as superficial as that sounds.”
Next-level superficial, Cindy thought. “Of course,” she cooed instead.
“My fiancé is a big believer in the TikTok magic.”
Cindy rolled her eyes and smiled through it, promising to email the cancellation confirmation. When she finally ended the call, the cheerful lilt drained from her like air from a balloon.
She sat in her small but tidy office—the new “Snowberry Weddings HQ,” as they’d dubbed the room that wasn’t much bigger than a walk-in closet off the back of the Starling Room.
On a sigh, she looked at the framed photo on the small floating shelf Jack had installed above her desk. It was a perfect shot of Cindy and Jack perched on the sleigh last year, their cheeks flushed from cold air and fresh happiness.
She had to remember that no matter what happened in her new business, the rest of her life was, as Nicole liked to say, on point.
A knock on the open door pulled her back. MJ poked her head in, a soft smile warming every feature. “Hey, you off your call?”
Cindy sighed and swiveled her chair toward her sister. “Sadly, yes. Jenna, the destination wedding bride from Sioux Falls looking for a date next fall? She just called to cancel the tour—going with the Grand Hyatt.”
MJ stepped in, closing the door behind her. “Why?”
“She said she loved the Starling Room,” Cindy replied, rubbing her temples, “but she saw the Grand Hyatt’s Instagram account. Apparently, they have ‘more clout.’”
MJ frowned. “Clout?”
Cindy gave a weary little laugh. “It’s social media influence. Popularity. Basically, people want to get married at the place everyone’s already posting about.”
“Ah,” MJ said, nodding sagely. “At the risk of sounding like our father, I’d prefer to live in a world with no hashtags.”
Cindy laughed at the spot-on Red Starling imitation. “Seriously. But we don’t.” She leaned back, pressing her palms to her thighs. “It’s not that Jenna didn’t like the Starling Room—it’s that we don’t offer…online name recognition. And if I’m being honest, that worries me.”
MJ pulled up the extra chair beside the desk and sat down, crossing her legs. “Cindy, you knew that was going to happen sometimes. The Starling Room isn’t meant to compete with glitzier places. We’re for the people who want something cozy and warm and intimate. Jenna just wasn’t our bride.”
“I know, but…” Cindy looked down. “This is my new career, MJ. My whole second act. If I can’t get people to fall in love with this place, then what was the point of all that renovation, all that planning? Snowberry Weddings has to work. Ithasto.”
“It will,” MJ assured her. “You’ve got taste, heart, and experience—and now, you’ve got Dominique and her Aisle Files crew on board. That’s going to bring a whole new audienceandname recognition.”
“You’re right.” Cindy exhaled the words. “But the pressure for that to go well is through the roof. I underestimated how powerful that social media thing is. Brides don’t just want pretty—they want viral.”
MJ wrinkled her nose. “Viral sounds like the flu.”
Cindy laughed, tension easing just a fraction. “Youdosound more like Red every day. This is a virus we want, though.”
MJ reached across the desk to pat her hand. “Dominique’s coming for your wedding. The Aisle Files coverage alone will have brides from Salt Lake to Seattle calling you for tours.”
Cindy looked at her sister, gratitude flickering in her chest. “You really think so?”
“Iknowso.” MJ rose, brushing invisible lint from her jeans. “And you know what’ll make you feel better right now?”
