“They will start after a mimosa.”
“Drink your water first,” Elsie ordered.
“Hopefully that guy is already married,” Ivy said, “because otherwise we could have lost a potential client.”
“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” Then it came back to me—the arguing, the gratuitous sexual comments, and the spilling of barbeque all over that delicious chest.
“I’ve been stressed lately,” I explained and took a big bite of the eggs Benedict. The creamy hollandaise sent warm, happy feelings through me. “There are rumors that rent in my building is going up. My granddad keeps wanting me to spend more time in Harrogate, and I feel super guilty. Plus, we’re so busy with all our brides.”
Ivy had started Weddings in the City as a collaborative so that brides could have a one-stop shop for a beautiful, high-class wedding. She was the wedding planner. Sophie baked delicious wedding cakes decorated with her signature sculpted sugar flowers. Elsie cooked the tastiest catering ever. Brea designed and sewed one-of-a-kind, ethereal wedding dresses, and Grace was the wedding photographer extraordinaire. I created beautiful, locally grown flower arrangements.
“Speaking of,” Ivy said, pulling up a presentation. “This is a working brunch, ladies. We need to talk about what is probably going to be our biggest wedding this year, Hunter and Meg.” A photo of the tall, blond Svensson and Meg, the mayor of Harrogate, popped up on the presentation screen.
“Meg is a busy woman trying to run a small town. Hunter is a billionaire, and we all know how they are. They are used to paying for top-tier service and expect things to be perfect, on time, and stress-free for them. We need to deliver a classy event, and Hunter has, in no uncertain terms, said that Meg could have whatever she wants. We need to make this event special for them and their families.”
“Big family,” Sophie remarked.
“How many of them are going to be groomsmen?” I asked, the eggs Benedict throwing me into wedding planning gear.
Ivy grimaced. “That is currently under negotiation. We have a meeting tomorrow afternoon in Harrogate to kick off the wedding. Everyone please come prepared and with ideas in your respective fields.”
Unlimited flower budget? Quaint, small-town country setting?I already had ideas spinning in my mind.
The elevator to the office pinged.
“Darlings!” our next bride said, sweeping out.
“You’re early,” Ivy said, professional smile firmly planted in place.
“I’m never early or late. I come when I please.”
Behold, the bridezilla—entitled, difficult, and demanding.
“Mimosa, Tatiana?” Elsie offered.
“I’m on a diet,” the bridezilla said with a sniff.
We hastily cleared the table, and she sat down.
“My wedding is in eighteen months. I feel like we are already behind schedule.”
“This is the first kickoff meeting,” Ivy explained, adopting her pleasant but professional customer service persona.
“I need everything to be perfect,” the bride insisted. “I was just at my parents. My whole family is so jealous of me. They wish they were marrying someone as awesome as Daryl. You should have heard my sister, that fat cow. I don’t want her in my wedding party.”
Lord, help us.
Tatiana slammed her hand on the table. “Are you writing this down?” she shrieked.
Ivy dutifully began writing in her notebook.
“I need you all to draw up a contract for bridesmaids and manage the audition process. I don’t want anyone pregnant or gaining weight. Or losing weight. They can’t be thinner than me. And I don’t want anyone at the wedding making hateful comments about how the groom is my college professor. I didn’t break up his marriage. We are in love.”
Ah, nothing like a second marriage!
The bride tossed her hair.
“He said he never loved his last two wives the way he loves me. And you need to make sure none of the guests and none of the vendors call me a mistress or a homewrecker. He’s had a mistress before. She had a baby, and he didn’t marry her. But he’s marrying me. Because we’re in love.”
