One Day Like This: A feel-good summer romance Page 10

  Kandace’s Kreations’ storage room was supposed to serve as a warehouse for the designer’s supplies and finished garments for shipment—but not that many retailers were clamoring for a Kandace original, which was why it stood empty. The designer had recently sublet the space to a tuxedo and bridal rental shop undergoing remodeling.

  “Did you get it?” Ama asked, tossing a pillow onto one of the stiff chairs circling the little coffee table.

  “See for yourself.” Natalie unzipped the garment bag she was carrying. “One genuine Armani suit in the latest style. I picked it out myself.”

  “Nice,” said Ama. “It’s straight from the cover of GQ.”

  “Will they notice it’s missing?” Tessa asked.

  “Not if we get it back to the warehouse pronto,” said Natalie. “Where’s our fourth partner?”

  “Upstairs, looking at the drywall situation,” said Tessa. “I… didn’t exactly tell him about this part.”

  Blake looked less than thrilled when they ambushed him with the suit upstairs. “You didn’t mention anything about changing my appearance for this,” he told them, pushing a pair of safety glasses back onto his forehead. “You said I just had to say a couple of nice words to your client.”

  “What’s the problem? It’s just a suit,” said Tessa. “You have worn one before, right?”

  “Believe it or not, yes. I even own one or two, so you didn’t have to waste your money on a rental.” His gaze bordered on scorn with these words—if it weren’t for the fact that Tessa was running on pure desperation at the moment, she might have blushed. Determination kept her from it.

  “It wasn’t a waste, trust me,” said Natalie. “This occasion calls for something a little more refined than an off-the-rack suit. They expect you to look sophisticated. It’s only for one afternoon—is it so terrible to humor us for a couple of hours?”

  “Not terrible,” he replied. “Just not necessary, in my opinion. You told me she’s never even met this Stefan friend of yours. Maybe she’ll be convinced he’s just a casual guy if that’s what he appears to be.”

  “She’s seen a picture of him.” Albeit not a good one, but Blake could be seen to resemble it a little, to a strong imagination. “She probably does know that a wedding planner wouldn’t dress like a lumberjack,” Tessa pointed out. “Trust me, if she knows anything about Stefan, she’ll expect something extra special. It’s all about expectations.”

  “You will look great in this,” promised Natalie.

  “Just try it on,” coaxed Ama.

  “Please?” added Tessa. “If you hate it, or it doesn’t fit, then we’ll talk about an alternative.”

  A sigh of defeat came from the contractor. “All right,” he told them. “I’ll agree to try it on. But I’m not making any promises yet.” He took the garment bag from Natalie’s hand and disappeared into the bathroom.

  “Too bad he doesn’t have time for a shave,” Tessa muttered.

  “It could be worse,” Natalie muttered back. “Stefan was almost bald last summer after that terrible stylist’s cut. Remember how he was all but crying over it at Tonya’s party?”

  The contractor’s unruly mane of hair—would it look too untamed for a professional? Tessa wondered. And what about a quick shave? She was still worrying about these things when the door opened and Blake emerged.

  “The tie is a little crooked”—he gave it an apologetic tug—“but is the rest of it what you expected?” He asked this begrudgingly.

  Natalie let out a wolf whistle. Ama covered her mouth. “Wow,” she said. “That’s amazing.”

  It was amazing. Blake the handyman had been, in a word, transformed.

  Gone was the too-casual flannel-clad figure in work boots and denim Tessa remembered—not entirely unpleasantly—from their first meeting. In his place, a man of tall, dark, and handsome sophistication had appeared, in a tailored suit filled out to perfection. Even the stubble on his jaw went perfectly with it, and his dark mane looked sexy instead of scruffy.

  Tessa crossed her fingers that their client Bianca’s friend had never described Stefan and that she had only his tiny internet photo to identify him by—the event planner was neither tall nor so devastatingly handsome as Blake, though if you counted his dark hair, at least they shared one quality.

  “That’s not bad,” she said to Blake. It was better than that, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it, not about the contractor. “It’ll certainly do for one afternoon. You—you clean up nicely, I mean.” She didn’t blush. She wasn’t even sure why she almost had. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen a guy look handsome in a suit, after all.

  Natalie and Ama were looking at her like she was crazy. “Nice—is not the word,” said Natalie to him. “I can think of several others. Smoking. Hot. But I don’t want to make him blush by saying them aloud.”

  The contractor’s face turned red in response. “I don’t know about—” he began, reaching up as if to loosen the tie he was wearing.

  “That tie is a little crooked,” said Tessa.

  Moving closer, she refashioned the silk knot and slipped it into place, before he had time to loosen it and pull it off. For a second, their eyes met. Tessa realized the tie’s color was a perfect match for his eyes. Amazing what a simple strip of fabric could make someone notice about another person.

  She stepped back, putting space between them. “Much better,” she declared. “I think we’re ready for stage two.”

  “Stage what?” Blake was suspicious again, glancing from one to the other for an explanation. “Wait a minute,” he began. “All I agreed to do was put on the suit. Maybe wave at your client and say hi.”

  “You didn’t think we just needed you to wear the suit and not say anything, did you? You’ll have to interact with them a little, maybe answer a question or two. Nothing too hard, really.”

  “We swear,” said Ama quickly.

  “I’m not an actor,” Blake protested.

  “You already look the part,” said Natalie. “You just need some background on your character, so to speak. Show him the pictures, Tessa,” she suggested. “Just in case they ask any questions.”

  “Great idea.” Tessa pulled her laptop from its bag, flipping it open on the nearby folding table. “These are from some of Stefan’s events,” she told him, bringing up the digital albums on the website she was building. She hadn’t deleted any of Stefan’s stuff from its photo page yet, as luck would have it. She put the first album on slideshow, as the four of them gathered around the screen.

  Unfortunately, the photos highlighted the most extravagant and outrageous events of Stefan’s career. The Midsummer Night’s Dream wedding party dressed as woodland elves and nymphs proceeded down the aisle of a forest park in autumn, wearing flowered head wreaths and sporting pointy ears touched up with glitter. She thought she heard Blake cough—or stifle a snort—but she didn’t dare turn around to see his expression. A similar sound accompanied the photo from a Valentine’s Day wedding, with the chorale in red satin robes and glittery makeup, and the twin ring bearers dressed as Cupid.

  “These are weddings somebody actually wanted planned, you said?”

  “Of course. These had huge budgets. Some of them were almost like… society weddings,” she explained, for lack of a better description. One had involved the daughter of a state senator, at least.

  That statement was left to sink in as a photo of the six-layer Valentine’s heart cake popped up, dazzling in ruby glitter. Maybe they should have warned him ahead of the bride who appeared next onscreen, arrayed in a glittering silver and white princess ball gown and seated in a giant transparent horse-drawn carriage, accompanied by three footmen in gold and white uniforms with powdered wigs.

  “Ah, the famous Cinderella wedding,” said Natalie. “I’ve heard about that one. Stefan was fawning over those glass-slipper wedding favors he ordered. The gold coins they’re tossing to onlookers are chocolate, right? With Stefan, you can’t be sure it wasn’t some sort of c
ommemorative piece with the bride and groom’s pictures embossed on it.” A touch of mockery was in Natalie’s voice.

  “Is that a diamond crown on the groom?” Ama leaned toward the screen.

  “Are those trained white mice?” Blake spoke again, and not happily.

  “The ring was in the little glass carriage they’re pulling,” explained Tessa, exasperated. “I know it’s a bit over the top—but the bride really liked the idea, apparently.” It had taken Stefan weeks to find someone who actually trained performing mice, he had told her once at a party.

  “I can’t believe someone actually requested that for their wedding,” said Ama.

  “I can’t believe someone actually requested that for their wedding.” Natalie was pointing to the cake from Stefan’s “Italian Romance” wedding: a twelve-layer monstrosity sculpted to resemble the Leaning Tower of Pisa, surrounded by two-toned cabbage roses made from frosting and giant marzipan turtledoves at its base. “I mean, I’m all for celebrating, but why not do it with class? That thing screams like an undignified tourist trap. It looks ready to sink under the weight of its own icing.”

  Next to her, Blake cleared his throat. “I’m not sure about this,” he said.

  “You don’t have to suggest anything original. Just say a few nice words about whatever the clients like,” said Tessa.

  “I can’t pull this off. I can’t make them believe that I was somehow connected with… all this.” He was eyeing the computer screen’s latest image. “It’s not my style. I mean, if I were an event planner, or a creative person, which I’m not. Clearly.” He added this part with emphasis.

  “Can’t you just pretend? It’s only for one conversation, anyway,” wheedled Tessa. “Please.” Unless they landed this wedding, somehow. But that was just too crazy an idea to actually happen.

  “Just smile and nod a lot,” Ama suggested. “And say their ideas are fabulous, or something.”

  “Fabulous?” Blake spoke it like a foreign word he wasn’t sure how to pronounce.

  “Maybe just say ‘divine’ instead,” continued Ama. “Isn’t that what all the hosts say on TV decorating shows?”

  “What did Stefan usually say?” Natalie asked. “Besides that everything he did was ‘marvelous’ or ‘fab,’ I mean?”

  Downstairs, the sound of the door’s entry bell jingled. “They’re here,” said Natalie, in a hushed tone of horror, as her joking attitude died a sudden death. “They’re an hour early!”

  “Quick, go down and stall them,” whispered Tessa. Natalie sprinted downstairs. “Where’s our official planning binder?”

  “Over there,” said Ama, who looked nervous as she straightened her dress. “Okay, let’s be calm…”

  “They’re in the parlor,” said Tessa, who could hear the murmur of voices disappearing from the foyer. “Time to go.” She seized Blake’s left arm, with Ama on the right, half-dragging him downstairs before he could escape.

  “Wait!” he hissed. “No, I’m not—”

  At the foot of the stairs, Ama paused to look at Tessa. “We’re keeping the name, right?”

  “What name?” Blake asked. He sounded suspicious.

  “Sure. It sounds great, right?” said Tessa.

  “My name? Wait a moment. I never agreed to any—”

  Tessa opened the door to the sitting room, revealing three strangers on the love seat, awaiting the wedding planners’ arrival. She nudged Blake, who gave her an extremely bitter look—thankfully, with his face averted from their clients.

  Maybe it was the pleading in her eyes, a silent begging to save his paycheck and theirs, that caused him to turn toward the parlor again. He forced a smile in place that seemed… well… almost charming. Almost.

  Tiny, bird-like Bianca sat directly across from Tessa, clutching her oversized purse on her lap, and adjusting a rather awkward-looking pair of reading glasses on her face. Her hair was cut short and spiky, and had been lightly tinted with a reddish-gingery color, her age betrayed by the deep, wrinkly lines across her face, and over the careworn hands that were undoing the clasps of her bag.

  Beside her, her grandson Paolo, a cute dark-haired young man, looked slightly nervous; as did his fiancée, Molly, a fair-haired girl with a shy smile.

  “I am so glad that you let us come back,” Bianca said. “The young man next to you—he’s the one my friend told me about? The one who arranged the beautiful wedding at the big hotel?”

  “He’s the only male wedding planner at this firm,” Tessa answered, keeping her voice bright, despite the nervous beat of her heart.

  “I’m sorry,” said Bianca. “I forgot your name. What was it again?” She held out her hand to Blake.

  “It’s… Blake Ellingham,” he said. “Call me Blake, please.” He shook hands with her.

  “That name,” Bianca said, looking slightly puzzled. “It doesn’t sound right to me. It was… something else, I think.” Her brow was furrowed in a worried look as the three wedding planners held their breaths collectively.

  After a moment Natalie piped up, saying, “We just call him ‘The Wedding Guru.’ That’s his professional nickname.” She shot a smile in Blake’s direction, who looked as if he’d just tasted something sour.

  Light dawned in Bianca’s eyes as she nodded. “Yes, that is the name. I remember it now.”

  “Just Blake is fine,” he repeated. “Please.” He adjusted his tie as if it were strangling him.

  “My friend’s son had such a lovely wedding,” continued Bianca. “I saw the pictures. Ooh la la—such a cake, with the big candy doves on the top! Such flowers! And that beautiful carriage with the horses. Just like a fairytale! You must have worked so very hard to make it so good.”

  That was the wedding Stefan had planned for her friend’s son? The Cinderella one? It was Stefan’s crowning achievement, and his most expensive, Tessa knew. It was his vision of a fairytale for the daughter of a state senator and the son of a fledgling hedge fund manager for whom lunch at the Four Seasons was a casual dining event.

  “There were little chocolates at every person’s place at the tables,” Bianca informed the bride-to-be—who had probably heard this anecdote a dozen times already. “They were shaped just like little mice, so delicate and pretty. The slipper, too, in the little gift bag. It was real glass, just like in the story.”

  “It all sounds so impressive.” The girl, Molly, sounded a little overwhelmed. No doubt, she was thinking of the cost behind such an event.

  Bianca turned to Blake again, asking, “You do remember my friend’s son’s wedding, don’t you? Stella Delveccio?”

  “Umm…” A long pause, during which Tessa held her breath, and tried not to clench her hands with worry. “Yes. Of course I remember it,” Blake answered, as relief flooded through Tessa.

  “It was your best. Wasn’t it?” continued Bianca.

  “The best?” Blake paused. Prompted by a gentle kick from Tessa beside him, he went on: “The carriage and flowers… were fabulous, weren’t they?” He followed this with a smile that seemed polite and bright but also extremely uncomfortable, if you were a good judge of smiles. “And the mice. Definitely the mice.” He gave the smile of a man who would never understand the concept of harnessing rodents to a fashion doll’s carriage.

  At least he hadn’t bailed on them, Tessa consoled herself. Yet.

  “The mice?” said Molly, confused.

  “Cinderella. You know—the mice,” said Bianca. “I wasn’t so fond of them myself… but you can come up with ideas that are even better, I’m sure.” She patted Blake’s arm lightly. Tessa saw a gleam in his eyes that suggested he was dangerously close to disowning his role.

  “Did you see the crystal-studded bouquet?” asked Tessa brightly.

  “Oooh, yes. So pretty.” Bianca laid a hand over her heart.

  “And the ceremonial crowning before the kiss?” piped up Natalie, who was pretending very hard to find Stefan’s ideas charming.

  “I saw a photo of it,” said
Molly. “I thought it was kind of romantic. Would you like to exchange crowns instead of rings at our wedding, honey?” she teased Paolo, although her smile was as shy as ever.

  “No, thanks. I don’t look good in diamonds,” he answered, squeezing her hand.

  “You have such good ideas for weddings,” Bianca marveled to Blake. “So many, too. I listen to my friend talk about this wedding you planned for her and say to myself, ‘Where does he get such ideas?’”

  “You know,” said Blake, “I’ve wondered that myself. Sometimes it’s like they just… pull themselves out of the strangest places.” His glance flickered ever so briefly toward the wastebasket. “I guess marvelous details just know what place they belong. Although they sometimes escape it, too.”

  He might have received a less gentle kick from Tessa for this remark, except for the lack of irony in his voice, which made him sound serious enough… and a little charming… on the outside.

  “Blake is very modest, isn’t he?” said Tessa. “He doesn’t like to take credit for his work.”

  “See? Then he is the right one,” said Bianca. “Good. I can cross it off my list.” From her bag, she produced a very wrinkled list and put a big mark through the topmost item using a black marker. “Now we have the best planner,” she informed the two young people beside her. “We are done with that step already.”

  “What?” Blake and Tessa spoke at almost the same moment. Had she really just hired them? Natalie and Ama wore equally surprised expressions—even the bride and groom seemed uncertain what to make of this announcement.

  “You all plan the weddings, too?” Bianca asked, looking from one to the next among the three women seated there.

  “Yes,” said Tessa, who found her voice now. “We’re… we’re the all-in-one package, like it says on the website. Cake, dress, flowers, music—we provide it all.”

  “Website?” repeated Bianca. “The internet. I don’t know the internet too well.” She shook her head. “Too many places. I get lost.”