Sweetheart Deal (4 page)

“At a destination wedding, however, ‘
all-inclusive
' applies to more than just the food and beverages. Since your guests are travelling a great distance, everyone who makes the trip should be invited to all the events that take place over the course of the weekend. While this may seem costly, remember, the reduction in the overall number of people who actually attend typically more than makes up for the added cost per person.”

As the camera shot switched to the buffet table, the veranda filled with partygoers, and the beginnings of what promised to be a spectacular sunset, I stole a glance out past the scrolled iron railing, and across the lush grounds, toward a single light in the window of the vacation sales office.

What was it Alejandro was planning to say before Frank had interrupted him?

I think you're one of the most attractive women I've met in years …

I know it's wrong, but I can't help but wish you were single …

I haven't stopped thinking about you all day …

Despite feeling more jangly than hungry, I piled my plate high with assorted
especiales de la casa
and started for the head table, where Anastasia and Philip were dipping chips into the Hacienda's signature guacamole and feeding them to each other.

“Look,” Frank said as soon as I took my place beside him and the crew had given us the
go-ahead
for the next scheduled shot. He flashed a handful of tickets. “Tickets to the eco water park for the whole family!”
12

“What an incredible thank you present!” I said, amazed not only by Anastasia's ability to pay next to nothing for her wedding, but her
dual-purpose
gift of a
bathing-suit
clad day at the local eco water park—just the wedding party, the camera crew, me, and my
middle-aged
body. Oh joy.

“We're all going to go on Sunday!” said groomsman Dave, who flashed a charming smile in shapely Body's direction.

As soon as we were finished eating, Face stood. She waited for the chatter to die down and announced that each of Anastasia and Philip's siblings planned to share some stories to ensure the bride and groom “had all the facts” about their
soon-to
-be spouse.

“I'll start,” Hair said, tucking her blond locks behind her ears and smiling in my direction, as if to say she'd heeded my advice about ignoring the cameras. Her voice was a little shaky just the same. “Philip, I hope you're prepared to always look your best, because Stasia is a stickler about grooming those around her. One time, she even used pomade on the cat and trimmed his whiskers. He was banging into walls for a week.”

One by one, each of the siblings stood, and with varying degrees of trepidation, began to share tales of their own:

“Phil once told me that thinking about your muscles will make you stronger.”

“Do not, I repeat, do not so much as
suggest
to Stasia that there are ‘alternate' ways to load the dishwasher.”

“I hope you're prepared for the fact that you're going to have to cut the crusts off big, strong Phil's sandwiches.”

As I laughed along at their funny, insightful, sometimes TMI observations and comments—
Phil says it's an
odd-looking
inconveniently placed chest mole, but don't be surprised if one of your children inherits his, how shall I say, third nipple—
I noticed half the faces in the crowd also looked familiar from the afternoon timeshare presentation.

Which got me thinking about Alejandro. Which got me thinking about the way our eyes kept meeting and the flirtation that seemed to slip so easily into the conversation. I knew he was trying to sell timeshares, but …

As Face wrapped things up with a teary story about all four sisters getting their ears pierced together, Steve, the minister, stood and pinged his water glass.

“We've heard a number of insightful stories about Anastasia and Philip as they progressed on their paths to each other …”

Was there a real spark between Alejandro and I, or was I so rusty, not to mention entrenched in being Mrs. Frugalicious, that I'd
over-interpreted
our flirtation to the point where I felt like I'd landed in the first few pages of a romance novel?

“I thought we'd cap off the evening by asking this question of you, their happily married friends and family,” he continued. “What is the secret to marital longevity?”

There was a brief silence and then hands went up all around the veranda.

“Never go to bed angry,” someone at a back table said, kicking things off.

“Fight fair!”

“Learn to say ‘yes, dear'!”

“Embrace each other's imperfections.”

I suddenly felt a lot less like I'd been dropped into a bodice ripper and a lot more like I was trapped in a
straight-to
-DVD movie when someone else added, “Marry the right person in the first place.”

Particularly when one of the cameras zoomed in on our table just in time for Frank to wink at me, look up at Anastasia and Philip, and pronounce, “Make romance a priority.”

Both of the boys groaned in unison.

“Gross,” Eloise added.

The crowd laughed, clapped, and cheered as Frank lifted his glass and I stood beside him for a toast to romance and marital bliss.

Our on-camera fauxmance continued as the rehearsal dinner wound down. The kids, now including Hair's teenage son, Liam—a trim, well-groomed boy of about sixteen—went off to movie under the stars at the outdoor El Teatro de Fortuna, and I followed Frank back to our suite. With a few soundbites along the way about the beauty of the evening and the glow of the handsome, soon-to-be wedded pair, we retired to our bedroom.

“What's with that kid hanging around FJ all night?” Frank asked.

“He's Anastasia's nephew.”

“He seems kind of …”

“Kind of what?” I asked. “He's nice, polite, and—”

“Doesn't seem very
sports-minded
, if you know what I mean.”

“
Sports-minded
?” I said, avoiding where Frank might be trying to go with the conversation. I began to pluck the decorative pillows off the bed and arrange them in an orderly line down the middle to separate the
his
from the
hers
side. “I guess I don't know what you mean.”

Frank paused as if thinking about what he would (but likely shouldn't) say next. He thought better of it and headed for the bathroom instead.

Relieved I'd managed to avoid yet another
go-nowhere
conversation about Frank's concerns over what he termed our son's “potentially artistic tendencies,” I turned down the comforter. As I tugged at my corner of the sheets, I spotted a pale peach rectangle sticking out from underneath my pillow.

The toilet flushed and the sink began to run.

I pulled out what turned out to be an envelope with the hotel logo in the upper corner and
Maddie
written across the front.

Frank emerged from the bathroom just as I was ripping it open. “What's that?” he asked.

“Note from housekeeping,” I mumbled, figuring it had to be.

“Say anything interesting?” he asked, lumbering past me to his side of the bed as I removed a single sheet of paper from inside.

“Nope,” I managed. “Just one of those ‘we care about the environment so please conserve linens and towels' messages.”

“Gotcha,” he said, falling into bed, not noticing that my voice had cracked. Or that I was lying.

The note, while written on the resort stationary, contained a very different message than the one I heard myself telling Frank.

And it definitely wasn't from housekeeping …

What are the chances you can tear yourself away from your official obligations tomorrow evening and join me at the Poolside Bar? Say, 9 p.m.?

—A

four

I spent most of
the night plucking proverbial daisies: Maybe Alejandro meant to address the note to both of us. Maybe it was a Freudian slip that only my name was on the front of the envelope. Perhaps he sent notes to all potential-but-reluctant timeshare owners inviting them for a cocktail and ours had somehow slipped beneath the pillow.

I tossed, turned, and finally dozed off, but I woke up again not long after the first rays of sun glinted off the ocean. I glanced over at Frank, now snoring softly in his familiar (though no longer endearing)
snort-puh
pattern. Too keyed up to go back to sleep myself, I tiptoed out of the bedroom for a cup of tea and a peek at the day's call sheet.

My very full schedule started with
8:30 a.m.: Yoga
and was broken down in a seemingly endless list of pre-, during, and postwedding shots, including everything from
Discussion of discount table centerpiece options
to
Teary-eyed
toast.
My eyes were drawn to the bottom of the sheet, where I couldn't help but note that the last entry of the day was
8:30 p.m.: Dance with Frank
.

As in, just in time to make it to an engagement at, oh, 9 p.m. at the Poolside Bar?

Frank woke soon after I did and immediately left for his
8:15: Massage with fellow groomsmen
. The kids set off to the beach, and I headed down the hall toward my
first task
of the day.

“You need more towels, Señora Frugalicious?” Zelda, the floor manager, offered when I found her in the housekeeping supply room

“I'm good, thanks.” I smiled back. “But I do have a question: Did you or someone on your staff happen to deliver a note to my room last evening?”

Zelda nodded. “
Sí
,
Señora
.”

“I found it in the weirdest spot.”

“Under
la almohada
?” she asked, then thought for a moment. “The pillow?”

“Yes,” I said, my heart suddenly thumping.

She smiled. “I always do what Señor Alejandro tell me to do.”

“Joe-gah,” said the attractive, raven-haired, spandex-clad yoga instructor, “is jour oasis of peace, tranquility, and calm.”

With the camera trained on her from the rearview of my sorry excuse for a Downward Dog, I couldn't say I entirely agreed.

“Breathe deep, relax, and clear jour cluttered mind …”

Having left housekeeping with a fresh piece of stationary, an envelope, a complimentary pen, and the knowledge that Alejandro had specifically asked that the note be placed under my pillow, I somehow couldn't manage a single breath that could be called relaxing.

And there was no clearing my hoarder's paradise of a mind.

Alejandro had to be trying out some kind of
high-level
sales technique on me. What other reason could there be for an extremely handsome man who could have practically anyone he wanted to pursue a woman on vacation with her
loving
spouse? That was, unless he really was attracted to me, sensed there were plot holes in the Frugalicious happily ever after, and just decided to go for it. After all, it was no secret that Frank and I had weathered our fair share of marital woes. And, given the
high-profile
nature of our careers and the murders I'd been involved in solving, the details of our lives were easily available to anyone who was curious enough to type
Mrs. Frugalicious
into their browser. Still, Alejandro was bold, unbelievably so, to have a note delivered to the room of a very married woman, asking her to meet him for a drink.

The fact he'd actually gone ahead and done it sent an involuntary and not entirely unpleasant shudder through me.

It wasn't until the shoot finished with me rolling up my yoga mat and offering a few tips about vacation exercise classes
13
that I began to feel ever so slightly Zen. While I couldn't possibly meet up with Alejandro, I couldn't help but fantasize, if just for a moment, about returning someday for a
sun-and
-fun week in his tall, dark, and handsome company.

Instead of heading directly to the spa locker room for a shower before I was due in makeup and hair, I took a quick detour to the vacation ownership office and, with a touch of regret, slid a short note of my own in the mail slot for Alejandro:

Chances are slim, I'm afraid.

“Look who's glowing almost as much as our bride,” Geo said, joining me in the spa lobby.

“I must be flushed from yoga,” I said, thankful our makeup artist was busily brushing finishing powder on my
once-again
warm cheeks. “Haven't done it in a while.”

“You should,” he said, with an uncharacteristic smile. “It clearly agrees with you.”

Despite somewhat mixed emotions about nipping the Alejandro situation in the bud, I couldn't help but agree that the attention put a little extra spring in my step. A spring I needed for the next few hours posed in front of various locations, discussing overall costs:

Destination weddings are a great deal for the bride and groom, who will save on just about everything including the final tab since many guests send a gift instead of making what they assume will be a costly trip
.

And the nuts and bolts of planning:

While the best specials and discounts for destinations are during
off-peak
seasons, it's a good idea to look into
less-traveled
U.S. holiday weekends like Mother's Day, Fourth of July, and Halloween, when resorts, especially in the Caribbean, tend to offer some great deals.

I did an overview of floral options at various price points to highlight that less was often more when Mother Nature was handling the bulk of the decorating:
Even though you'll need bouquets for the bridal party and perhaps a few accents, there's no need for a big floral budget when you get married in a scenic locale. If you're flexible and allow the florist to use local blooms instead of expensive imported flowers and consider
less-expensive
centerpieces like shells and sand or tropical fruit centerpieces, you'll not only save, but stun your guests with natural beauty.

I even sampled the evening's fare ahead of the actual reception:
A $30,000 stateside wedding for a hundred guests in a major city would likely include a plated chicken or fish meal, a limited open bar, a serviceable DJ, and standard wedding cake. Here at the Hacienda de la Fortuna, the same money gets you a
multi-course
feast, Mariachi band, tequila tasting at the open bar, and
late-night
dessert bar.

By the time I'd finished, it was time to meet up with the other bridesmaids for
Makeup, hair, and
pre-ceremony
bonding with the bride
.

“All you'll need to do is read off the cue cards while the hotel stylists get the other bridesmaids ready,” Geo said as I changed out of my raspberry satin,
halter-style
bridesmaid's dress and back into a fluffy white
hotel-issue
robe to pretend I was getting ready along with my fellow bridesmaids in the salon.

As
Family Frugalicious
hair and makeup people finished touching me up and headed into the bride's room to start on Anastasia, Geo handed me a photo of a pretty model with the very same flattering
up-do
I was sporting, complete with curly loose tendrils. “Hold this up to your face on my cue.”

“Great,” I said, following him into the salon to greet the bridesmaids—Body in a massage chair soaking her feet and hands in preparation for a
mani-pedi
, Hair in a stylist's chair in front of a large mirror, and Face beside a big makeup kit with the Hacienda de la Fortuna roulette wheel emblazoned on the side.

After our hellos, the manicurist took a seat on her low stool and Geo pointed me to my mark.

The camera began to roll:

“While having your bridesmaids do their own hair, makeup, and nails is obviously the most
cost-effective
way to primp for a wedding, most brides prefer to have a professional on hand for the big day.” I paused while the camera zoomed in on the hotel hairdresser, who'd begun to run her to fingers through Hair's lovely honey blond tresses. “The thing is, hair and makeup can be a tricky proposition when you're talking destination weddings. Assuming you don't have a trusted stylist who would love a free trip in exchange for glamming up the wedding party, you will likely be using a local referred by your wedding planner.”

Geo gave me a thumbs up as I continued.

“If so, be sure to check references from other brides, try to meet with whomever you're planning to hire for your event beforehand, and, ideally, bring along a visual of what you want to look like on your wedding day.”

As I held up the photo of my hairstyle, a curvaceous little woman in
sausage-tight
leggings came tottering past me. There was no missing that she'd coordinated her heavy eye shadow with her aquamarine pants and her lipstick with the fuchsia flowers dotting her top.

“
Hola
,” she said, stopping beside Face and extending her hand. “I do your makeup.”

“Okay …” Face said, returning her handshake and looking anything but okay.

“How you like?” the makeup artist asked.

“As subtle as possible?” Face asked, pleadingly.

Hair looked equally nervous as her stylist began to tease the back of her hair. “Me too,” Hair added.

“
Sí
,” one woman said.

The other nodded with seeming nonrecognition.

As the camera zeroed in on the four sisters, I stepped over to Geo. “Do you think they know what they're doing?”

Geo smirked. “Depends on your definition of
subtle
.”

The makeup woman clicked open a case, pulled out what looked like a putty knife, and set to work on Face, who now looked downright petrified.

Along with her sisters.

“And action!” Geo announced.

Face clasped her hands as if in prayer and closed her eyes.

Out of the corner of mine, I noticed Jorge the concierge standing silently in the doorway of the salon. My resident butterflies began to flutter as he waved a peach envelope in my direction.

“Thank you,” I mouthed silently as I stepped over and accepted the note.

“
De nada
,” he whispered.

Suspecting otherwise, I followed him out to the spa lobby, waited for him to head back down the hallway, opened the envelope, and read Alejandro's response:

Don't be afraid.

I wasn't exactly afraid, nor was I entirely surprised by Alejandro's persistence. After all, tip number five on the timeshare handout Geo had given me told viewers to
expect them to keep offering deals too good to turn down,
14
to which I was to keep repeating
I'm not sure
and
we're just not ready.
The scenario seemed to apply to both timeshares and forbidden romance.

Face, however, was terrified.

Not to mention, terrifying.

“OMG!” she said, opening her eyes to lids and lips that had been colored raspberry to match her bridesmaid's dress. She began to wave her hands. “
Rojo
?
Nada!
No!”

The camera stopped rolling, the makeup lady was led away, and Face launched into a teary OTF
15
about looking like a streetwalker for her sister's wedding.

“How bad is it?” a
Family Frugalicious
staff makeup artist asked, appearing beside me.

Before I could respond, she'd not only taken a peek and answered her own question, but was rushing in to offer assistance.

Luckily Face only had to suffer through two teary takes before being restored back to her beautiful self.

For the next two and a half hours, I was so immersed in shooting segments related to destination wedding prep that I gave little thought to much of anything beyond the “surprise” lunch delivered by Chef Benito, the seamstress who had to be brought in posthaste to repair a torn seam near the zipper of Anastasia's vintage designer dress,
16
and the teary moment when Anastasia's parents entered the bride's room and saw their stunning daughter in her wedding finery. It wasn't until my own personal
2:30 p.m.: Matron of honor
bonding moment with bride
that I had time to consider how staged certain moments of the day felt.

As we hugged and Anastasia thanked me profusely for coming up with the idea of a destination wedding (even though she had) and working so hard to make it so
surprisingly
affordable (also her doing), I found myself wondering how Alejandro could have known I would be the one to actually find the note he'd put under my pillow in the first place.

It wasn't hard for housekeeping to figure out who planned to sleep on which side of the bed—Frank had his prescription on his nightstand and I had placed a tube of hand cream and a magazine with an article about couponing on mine. But how could anyone be sure Frank wouldn't turn down the covers first? Frank, who'd be obligated to at least threaten to beat the daylights out of anyone who dared to leave such a note for his wife?

Maybe I was a little more flirtatious than I should have been, and maybe Alejandro was a lot more forward than your
run-of
-
the-mill
ladies man, but, somehow, it didn't seem likely that he could he really be so immediately lovestruck.