Diary of a Single Wedding Planner (Tales Behind the Veils Book 1) (3 page)

Monday, October 7th

The office was quiet this morning except for Chaz’s ever-present jazz music playing softly from his office. Mondays were typically an off day since we work the weekends, but in October, there’s pretty much no such thing as a day off. The milder weather, plus less-crowded beaches and theme parks, makes October the busiest wedding month of the year for Central Florida. June and July are way too hot.

“Who’s there?” Laura called out in a playful, dramatic voice from the other side of the building. “Who goes there?”

I knew she’d be in the office. Laura never took Mondays off, no matter what month it was. As co-owner of the salon, she not only had her own events to plan and execute, but all the aspects of running the business as well. Marketing, accounting, taxes, insurance. All the crap that comes with the glory.

“It’s me!” I answered, walking across the open salon area toward her office. I was relieved to see Lillian’s office dark. I dreaded the conversation I knew was coming as I had no desire to be stripped to the bone by her teeth and talons.

“What’s shaking?” Laura tucked her reading glasses into her long, dark hair and gave me a smile. I plopped into one of her comfy overstuffed chairs, pulled one of the pillows out from behind my back, and put it over my face.

She laughed the sweet, deep, gravelly laugh I absolutely love. I swear I would be an entirely different human being if Laura could be my mom.

“Aw! What’s the matter? Why are you hiding your face this morning? Did you have a late night?” She chuckled again as I pulled the pillow down and fought back tears. Somehow the warm security of Laura’s voice made me want to cry.

“I screwed up again. I swear, Laura, every time I work one of her weddings I screw something up. Why is that?”

“What happened? I talked to her this morning and she didn’t mention anything, so you can’t have done anything too bad. Let’s get you some coffee and talk about it.” She took me by the hand and led me back to our tiny kitchen.

I gave her the briefest summary I could of what happened, pausing for her to gasp and cover her mouth when I got to the commando part.

“Come here, honey!” Laura put her arms around me in a big hug, and I wanted to melt. I’m such a big baby sometimes.

“The Yellow Rose of Texas, huh? Wow.” She laughed again and let me go. “Well, it sounds to me you did everything you could to ensure our bride was taken care of. You helped her in her time of need, you stayed calm in the face of a difficult situation, and you got her to the wedding dressed and feeling pretty. So I think you did fine. I would definitely rather you keep your phone on so we can always reach you, but I understand you were in a situation. You made a decision that may not have been what you would do next time.”

Laura has an amazing ability to say “don’t ever do that again” and make it sound like a good thing. I’ve never met anyone so kind, patient, and compassionate. In the three years I’ve worked here, I’ve never heard her raise her voice or lose her temper, yet she is authoritative and in control. I wonder if her sons have ever heard her lose it. They’re both in college now, but could you raise two teenage boys and never yell?

I shrugged as I took the coffee she offered. “I’m not sure Lillian will see it that way. She was furious.”

“Well, you have to remember Lillian ran an entire hotel empire where multiple properties in multiple countries all depended on her leadership and organization skills. She was responsible for a lot of people. She made the company very successful because she ran a tight ship with little room for error. So she tends to get a little tense when things don’t go as planned,” Laura said.

“Didn’t you tell me once she started out at the front desk of one of those hotels?” I asked. I don’t know why, but I always found it comforting to picture Lillian as a front desk clerk. I’d love to be all noble and say it was because it inspired me to work hard and make my way to the top. But nah . . . I just liked picturing her in a silly front-desk uniform with someone telling her when she could take a fifteen-minute break.

“Yes, she did. Worked her way into upper management and ended up running the entire company. That’s why she comes across so tough. She expects people to do as she commands. You and I both know brides aren’t always in that mindset.”

“Aren’t you forgetting the part about her marrying the boss’s son? I think that’s an important little detail in her climb to the top,” Chaz said, slinking in through the door frame and leaning against it with a Cheshire-cat grin.

I swear the man has sonar hearing when it comes to gossip. He loves dirt on anyone, and he has a plethora of Lillian’s dirt since they worked together at the hotel long ago. She brought him on board here as a senior planner when he was laid off about six months ago. Senior planner, my ass. Granted, he knows more about weddings than I did when I started, but not by much. They’re tight, though, him and Lillian. If I didn’t know how incredibly fond he is of men, I would swear they have a cougar thing going on.

“Oh, Chaz. Stop it!” Laura waved him away. “Yes, she married the owner’s son, but that’s not why she took the company from two properties to a worldwide network of resorts and clubs. So let’s not throw daggers and be petty. She was very good at what she did.”

“So was he evidently!” Chaz laughed loudly at his own joke. “I heard he was quite talented in pleasing the ladies.” He reached up and grabbed the top of the doorframe, stretching his long, skinny limbs and yawning loudly.

Laura arched an eyebrow at him and shook her head. “Well, I don’t know if I would necessarily call them ladies, but it’s neither here nor there. We’re not discussing that. I was only trying to help Tyler keep Lillian’s temper in perspective,” she said before turning to me. “Don’t brood over this, Tyler. Lillian’s bark is much worse than her bite. She’s got a heart of gold, and you know she adores you.”

Adores
was probably reaching a bit. Maybe
tolerates
would be more appropriate. I mean, Lillian must like me somewhat or I wouldn’t still be working here. But I have never felt any warm fuzzies from her. Not even in the beginning, before I was screwing up her events.

I didn’t have a clue about weddings when Melanie hired me. I honestly didn’t even know event planning was a real job until we met. No one in my tiny little hometown was an event planner. If you had a baby shower or a wedding or something, your aunts and cousins helped plan it. Mostly planned it for you and told you what to do, but they called it helping. Maybe that was one good thing about getting jilted and leaving home never to return. When and if I get married now, I get to do my own planning.

Laura returned to her office, and I followed Chaz back to his, still thinking about Lillian. “Why did she leave the hotel business if she was so successful?”

He exhaled sharply and shook his head. “Everyone has a limit to how much they can take. She was the powerhouse building the company up. He was the wealthy playboy who gave her free rein as long as she turned a blind eye to his adventures. When he moved a buxom blonde into the penthouse suite of the downtown tower, Lillian called foul. She thought he’d come in line. Instead, he sued for divorce and tried to fire her from the company. But her attorneys took care of her. She’s not hurting.”

“Wow.” I couldn’t imagine Lillian in that situation. She’s such a force to be reckoned with. Who would have the balls to cheat on her?

I bet she probably handled it much better than I did when it happened to me. Then again, I was much younger at the time, and I didn’t have attorneys to fight for me. Which is another good thing, I suppose. At least my college sweetheart was kind enough to dump me and break my heart before we got married. No lawyers needed.

I was still deep in thought when I heard the salon door open. I knew it was Lillian even before I heard her ask Laura if I was in the office. I cringed and waited for the summons.

“Tylah, could you come here, please?” Lillian called out.

I scurried over to her office with the same sick feeling I used to get when my mother found out I’d skipped class.

“Yes, ma’am?” I said, standing at attention in her doorway. In stark contrast to Laura’s warm and fluffy office, Lillian’s is sleek and modern with a glass desk and two black, straight-back chairs. No pillows. Not a single picture on the walls. Only one lone mirror.

“Here,” she said, handing me a purple bouquet in a clear vase. “Tonya wanted you to have her bouquet. I kept it in my fridge last night, so there may be a few broken stems. I think overall it fared well. I understand you had quite the mission to perform in helping her get ready. She was appreciative of your efforts.”

I took the heavy bouquet from her and blurted out, “Sorry we were late.”

“Me too,” she said. “It was hot and uncomfortable, but from what I hear, you had cause to be uncomfortable as well.”

Lillian glanced in the mirror and ran her hand through her short white hair. “Thank you for helping her. Trashy, selfish girl that she is. A mere peasant. This marriage will not last. She is four months pregnant now with what he thinks is his child. I have my doubts.”

She rubbed her eyes and shook her head with a slight shudder. “They did things on the dance floor no one with any self-respect would ever do. Horrors. But it’s behind us now. Enjoy the flowers.” She waved her hand in dismissal to me and turned on her computer.

“Um, yes, ma’am,” I nodded and backed out of her office, much like a servant leaving the presence of the queen.

I stumbled back to my desk in a daze.

“That’s it? That’s all she said?” Melanie asked as we ate lunch. “I figured she would at least ream you for turning your phone off. I mean, you couldn’t really help the bride being late.”

“She didn’t even mention the phone. I think my intimate encounter with the bride’s backside earned me some kind of brownie points.”

“I guess. I can’t believe the girl told Lillian about you putting on her pantyhose. I’m thinking I would have kept that to myself,” Mel said, stuffing a huge bite of salad in her mouth.

“I just don’t know why I got so worked up. I need to learn to chill,” I said as I munched on my fries. “It’s not like Lillian’s mean. I just feel like I can’t quite do my best around her. Like no matter how much I want to impress her and please her, something always goes wrong.”

“I think you’re reading too much into things, Tyler. If she thought you were screwing up, she would have told you. It sounds to me like she pretty much said you’d done a good job.”

“Maybe. I know there is no way in hell Lillian would have been down on her knees risking a hernia to pull pantyhose up over some girl’s butt. At the same time, there is no way I could’ve told her I wasn’t going to do whatever I could to take care of the bride.”

Melanie nodded in agreement. “You’re right about that. But I guess in the end it’s okay since the bride was happy and Lillian still loves you.”

“I think
love
is too strong a word. Scratch that, and let’s say she still
likes
me. At least enough that I get to keep my job for now.”

Tuesday, October 8th

Nice eye candy in the hotel lobby today as we were doing photos. Tall, dark, Italian. Wearing his suit rather well, I must say! He came over to ask how long we would need the staircase and offered to block it off for us. Not a single soul had tried to use the stairs, so I think he was just saying hello. I didn’t mind. He was quite a looker. We stood and talked for a few minutes while the photographer finished up. He offered me his card, “in case the bride and groom need something while they are staying at the hotel.” I offered him mine, “in case the bride and groom can’t reach me or the hotel has a question.”

Isn’t it funny the dances we go through in this ritual of meeting someone? Why can’t we simply say, “I find you attractive and would like to have another conversation past this one. Call me.” Wouldn’t it make everything simpler? Why can’t we just be straightforward?

You would think I would be used to the game by now. I should be much better at playing it. Lord knows I’ve gotten enough practice.

Maybe he’ll call. Maybe he won’t. We’ll see.

The rest of the wedding went well enough, but I had a first today I sincerely hope is a last. We had finished pictures at the hotel and had everyone ready to go at the wedding chapel. The bride was tucked away in the dressing room while we waited for a few straggling guests to arrive and be seated.

Sondra, the mother of the groom, approached me outside to suggest we put plastic cups in the dressing rooms. I thought she wanted water, so I reminded her the dressing room held a small fridge with water bottles inside.

Yeah, she didn’t want water.

“Oh, we saw those, thank you.” Sondra nodded as she smiled. “I’m not sure how to put this delicately, but . . . ” she hesitated and twisted her hands together as she glanced over her shoulder, “that bathroom stall in there is quite narrow. Especially for a bride in a dress with a large train and layers and layers of tulle.”

She leaned in to whisper. “It is virtually impossible for a bride to hit the toilet without being able to see where she’s going, and you can only get so many people in that tiny stall to hold up the dress. A plastic cup would have come in handy.”

For a moment, I just stared at her in confusion. I wasn’t sure what a plastic cup had to do with the bride and her dress and peeing. But she cleared it up for me right away.

“We ended up using the candy dish that was sitting on the dresser. She filled it right up, and then we rinsed it out in the sink afterward and set it upside down to dry. But a plastic cup would have been much easier to maneuver up under her dress, I think.”

My mouth dropped open as she walked away.

They used a candy dish?!? For her to pee in???

It raised way more questions than I had answers for.

I mean, the circumference of the candy dish—or a plastic cup, for that matter—is much smaller than the opening of the toilet. Was it really that much easier to hit?

Someone obviously held it for her. Who got that job? I’ve never seen that on a list of maid of honor duties.

I hope to God it wasn’t the mother of the groom. What a way to start off with your mother-in-law! Normally it’s enough to worry about saying something offensive without being concerned you’re going to splash her with pee.

How deep was the candy dish? What if there was overflow? Was someone up under the skirt helping her aim and judging capacity? I don’t think I want to know the answers to these questions. And yet, my mind can’t help but ask.

I recovered my composure enough to tell the poor housekeeper to please wear rubber gloves and dispose of the candy dish. As far as I’m concerned, no amount of “rinsing out” would make it suitable for candy again.