One Day Like This: A feel-good summer romance Page 4

  “Here’s what I’m thinking about.” Tessa reached behind her armchair and pulled out a portfolio. “I’ve been working on this for a little while. I was just playing around at first, but then I realized it could be real. It made sense. Especially if I could find partners to work with.”

  “Other event planners?” Natalie asked.

  “Maybe so. There’s a planner at Wedding Wonders who might be interested. You’ve met him a few times before—at the last New Year’s party, remember? And a few other parties at my place, too.”

  “Who?” asked Natalie.

  “Stefan.” Tessa braced herself a little for what would follow this casual mention.

  “Groeder.” Natalie’s tone was flat, except for a dash of distaste. “Otherwise known as ‘The Wedding Guru.’” She made a face at the wedding planner’s pretentious nickname—one he’d given to himself, no less; not that anyone really called him by it except for his personal friends. “Do you think he’ll force his clients to call him that, eventually? I couldn’t say it with a straight face.”

  “I know he rubbed you up the wrong way a few times—” Tessa began.

  “The wrong way?” repeated Natalie. “He calls me ‘Natasha,’ Tess. He has known me for a year now, and he still can’t remember my name. Even when I was trapped with him for twenty minutes in that overcrowded apartment, watching him drool all over that partner from E-ventive Wedding Planners.”

  “Well, at least he’s trying to make a name for himself in the business,” Tessa replied. “And he told me he hates his work at Wedding Wonders and really wants a change. So a couple of weeks ago, I asked him if he would be interested in a share in a business that would give him more creative control and he sounded excited by it. So then I began thinking… what if he’s not the only person in the wedding industry who wants a chance like this?”

  Of the three big planners in town and the smattering of little ones, there weren’t many opportunities for an aspiring planner hoping to collaborate with others in their career field, as Tessa well knew. It had been logical to think first of the people who had the job she envied most and who wanted more creative freedom than their current work allowed. Stefan was the most obvious choice, really—successful, but not so successful that he had a plethora of options.

  “I don’t know,” Natalie began. Setting her wine glass down, she looked Tessa in the eye. “Are you sure that Stefan is the best candidate for your business partner? Isn’t his style a little more… outgoing than yours?”

  She was picking her words carefully now, Tessa sensed. Trying to avoid ones like “dramatic” or “over the top.” It was an impression Tessa knew all but defined Stefan as a planner… but to agree that her best potential business partner was a less-than-ideal team player would be self-destructive. This dream depended on his support—it required someone who had experience, who could attract clients with a recognizable name in the event planning community, at least in the beginning. Later, that might change, once people trusted their reputation as a group.

  “I think we could find a compromise,” she answered, fingers crossed under the armchair pillow beside her at the same time. “All of us together.”

  “Compromise? With a man who threw a hissy fit over the size of an ice sculpture unicorn’s horn?” Natalie raised one eyebrow.

  “Anyway, Stefan is just one of the people I have in mind,” said Tessa, ignoring her friend’s remark. “There are others on the list. I have this idea about bringing together different creative forces for a unique event planning firm, see. One, maybe two more partners who would join us.”

  She held out the portfolio to Natalie. “You’ve taken a few business classes too, right? Look at it. Tell me if it’s such a bad idea.”

  “I’m no expert,” Natalie protested. “Like you said, all I’ve had are a few classes in small business. You’re the one with the business degree.”

  “Just take a look at it, pretty please? Sugar on top? I’m dying to discuss this with someone and why shouldn’t it be my oldest and closest friend?”

  “Um, we weren’t exactly friends until college,” Natalie reminded her. “Before then, I was just the neighbor kid who got babysat at your house and forced to play all your games with weirdly specific rules.”

  “They weren’t weird,” Tessa protested. “We both know that Ninja Turtle made a better groom for Fashion Girl than your brother’s G.I. Joe. I mean, the tuxedo was too small for Joe—black tie automatically trumps camouflage for a wedding, right?”

  “Yes, but tell me again, why couldn’t they serve pink lemonade instead of sweet tea for the reception? I had already mixed up that huge pitcher of it just for the occasion and nearly spilled it twice on the car ride there. Eight-year-old me was offended by its rejection,” said Natalie, pretending to pout. “My one contribution to your stupid game and it was rejected.”

  “Because, silly, the tea glasses matched the rest of the dishware. I wanted it to be realistic.”

  “Of course.” Natalie rolled her eyes. “Because a wedding for a fashion doll and an action figure really should be as realistic as possible. At least your mother only grounded you for a week after she caught us hauling her vintage glassware back to the house.”

  “Two weeks,” said Tessa with chagrin. “Now, please, will you read this portfolio? For old times’ sake.” She waved it in Natalie’s direction, not giving up.

  “Fine, I’ll read it. But I don’t know how a control freak like you is going to work with an ego as big as Stefan’s. You know whose ideas will end up on top every time, no matter who’s right.” With this warning, she leafed through the folder’s contents, glancing over the proposal and its costs. Tessa clasped her hands on her lap, a definite pleading “don’t kick me” puppy-dog look in her eyes as she waited for the verdict.

  “I don’t know. It’s a little ambitious, but not impossible.” Natalie closed its cover after reading the pages within. “But there are a lot of costs, Tess. How are you going to cover something like this without bankrupting yourself?”

  “Well… I have a nest egg of sorts,” admitted Tessa. “The money my grandparents left to me, that I held onto with the idea of someday investing in a future business of my own. Plus everything I’ve been saving since college. It might be nearly enough to cover a down payment on a piece of commercial property… if we could find a good enough deal.”

  “Meaning a fixer-upper,” Natalie replied. “Which means lots of repair costs. You’ll probably end up needing more money than a little nest egg, and you’ll probably need to invest more in this business than the ex-Wedding Wonders Guru has.”

  “That’s why I need more partners than just me and Stefan,” said Tessa. “Like you.”

  “Me?” echoed Natalie, with a short laugh. “You want me to be one of your business partners? Are you crazy?”

  “Yeah, of course you. You always dreamed of having your own workspace,” Tessa answered. “Imagine if you were a designer working for a wedding planner whose clients need dresses—bridal dresses, bridesmaids’ ones, mother-of-the-bride couture, alterations on funky, eccentric wedding garments of all kinds.”

  “That’ll be the day,” snorted Natalie.

  “One with extra space for said designer to have her own studio, let’s imagine.”

  “What would I do there?” Natalie asked. “You plan events, not fashion shows. I’m not interested in fluffing flowers, or helping somebody pick out candles for a centerpiece, Tess. Why would your clients pick my clothes?”

  “Because of this,” said Tessa. From beneath her portfolio of inspirational clippings came a proposal sheet that she had spent hours crafting. “Look. That’s my idea. ‘A one-stop shop for all your wedding needs.’ Not just the perfect planning, but the perfect dress, the perfect cake, the perfect flowers, too—from an exclusive team.”

  “What?”

  “You’d be the dress designer. I’d be the planner, along with Stefan… and we’d find someone else with a completely different skill set
to come on board with us, too. Maybe a florist or a caterer.”

  This was her latest vision for her potential business, the best hope for her future, and maybe that of a friend like Natalie. What if the best way to free her dream from its prison was to join it with others’ dreams, and make them all real in one brilliant proposal? In her mind, it sounded perfect… and perfectly sensible, compared to renting a boutique in the new business district and waiting all by her lonesome for customers.

  Natalie shook her head curtly. “I’m not ready, Tessa,” she answered. “It’s a huge risk, pushing your own design on someone for their wedding, maybe ruining their big day if the dress is a flop… I’m not comfortable with that. It’s not the same as bringing a blouse to Kandace for the boutique’s bargain line.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the Natalie I know,” said Tessa, “who’s usually brimming with confidence.” For anything except her work, of course, but why point that out?

  “Touché. Because I have a friend who would never be really comfortable taking a back seat to the visions of someone like Stefan,” said Natalie. She gave Tessa a look. “You know deep down this idea will bite you later, Tess. The two of you have totally different creative styles. Is that what you want, to work with someone you have to fight all the time just to have an opinion? Believe me, it’s no fun. I speak from experience.”

  Tessa sighed. “It’s not that simple anymore,” she said quietly. “I want this dream, Natalie. I’m tired of neon frosting and bruises from the piñata pole whenever some kid’s swing misses. Compromise is the only way to have the future I want. I know it, and I’m embracing it. This might be my best chance, and I want it, Natalie. I don’t want to be on the sidelines, watching other people live their dreams.”

  The other way was to go it alone. It terrified her just a little, the thought of sitting forlornly, getting passed over for planners with rock-solid reputations and impressive recommendations. But she couldn’t say it aloud and still argue against Natalie’s closet of secret fashion designs. And if that was her only chance, she might be desperate enough to take it anyway.

  “You think I’m a coward.” Natalie shook her head. “You would be right. Because I’m not going to sign up to do something I can’t handle. I’d rather stick to my horrible job sewing psychedelic short shorts for Kandace.” She poured a second glass of wine from the bottle and took a sip. Tessa’s expression was gloomy in response to this.

  They were both quiet. Natalie hesitated. “Then again…”

  Tessa held her breath.

  “…I guess it wouldn’t kill me to pick out candles. Sometimes.” She gazed reflectively at the proposal lying on the coffee table, with room for multiple partners. “It would be kind of nice to have my own space to work. Come up with some new sketches… maybe for a future fashion line. Some place quiet and atmospheric, maybe.”

  “I’ll bet the loft at Kandace’s gets really crowded when she’s in a rotten mood after a fashion show,” said Tessa. She had read the reviews in the paper, which were often snarky toward the abrasive designer.

  “I would be allowed to have my opinions, it’s true,” Natalie said. “Maybe if I were more like a fashion consultant than a designer, let’s say.”

  “Exactly,” said Tessa. “Every bride needs help finding her special gown, no matter who designed it.”

  “But with plenty of time and space to do my own thing, right? Besides picking out candles and putting those little decorative rocks in vases and stuff.” Natalie looked at Tessa for confirmation. “Design work would have to be strictly on the side and not for clients at the start. Just in case I have the opportunity to sell a few garments to local boutiques, maybe. Then we’ll talk about garment design for your clients.”

  Tessa’s smile beamed. “You’re in,” she said. “You’re actually in, aren’t you? I knew it. It’s going to be great, Natalie. Actually living out our dreams instead of letting our lives slip by.” She took a generous bite from her piece of pizza, letting out a moan of contentment afterward. “I’ve been dreaming of telling somebody how I felt about this idea for weeks. Years, if you count all the times I’ve told myself that something needed to happen since I took the job on the party crew.”

  “Even if I say yes, that only makes three partners,” said Natalie. “I don’t know about ‘The Wedding Guru,’ but I’m not exactly rolling in money. Do you think three people can cover the startup costs?”

  “We’ll bring in a fourth, just in case,” said Tessa. “Maybe my job with Bill wasn’t great, but it did give me a chance to meet some other people in the party business. Florists, caterers, entertainers, bakers…” She flipped through a list on her phone. “Tony—he’s a pianist. I met him when he played at a Peanuts-themed birthday party once, but I know he plays at lots of weddings. And he’s probably sick of playing for kids after cleaning all those spitballs out of his sweater.” That particular client of Bill’s lived on in memory as one of the rottenest kids of Tessa’s acquaintance.

  “Musicians don’t have money, either. Will he need a spot for his piano? That could take up the whole business space.”

  “How about Felecia? She works for a florist, but she arranges flowers on the side for special occasions and delivers to addresses in the city,” said Tessa, reading another name from her list. She had remembered the florist’s was overstaffed and Felecia had expressed fears that her job was in jeopardy.

  “You met a florist through a kids’ birthday party service?” said Natalie.

  “No—I ordered a Mother’s Day bouquet from her,” said Tessa. “Although—she mostly works part-time now that she has a baby.” She scrolled ahead.

  “Here’s one I’ve considered,” she said, pausing again. “A baker who designed cookies for a superhero party we organized. Her website featured tons of creative sweets, good enough for a professional window display. She told me she worked out of her home because that’s all she could afford to do, but it looks like her business has really taken off. I mean, look at all these reviews—she must be raking in the customers.” On her computer, she had pulled up the website and looked at the long list of happy customers who had purchased cupcakes, cookies, and pastries.

  “If she’s new at this, then she probably doesn’t have much to invest yet, either,” concluded Natalie. Her smile wore a skeptical air.

  “Maybe she has some money set aside. We haven’t got anything to lose but to ask. And if she does, and if the four of us pull together, I think we could find enough to cover the startup costs,” said Tessa. “I think we can find a way to make it work, Natalie. Let’s think about it, at least.”

  “You’re practically begging for punishment,” said Natalie.

  “More punishment than neon frosting stains—or your spot in Kandace’s torture chamber?” said Tessa. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to spend the best years of my career on my current job. I’ve had enough of that T-Rex head.” Tessa made a face at the memory of the soft drinks, sweat, and halitosis forming the vinyl shell’s patented odor.

  “Kandace’s next fashion line, after the circus clowns one is finished, is going to be a tribute to Peter Pan.” Natalie shuddered. “The punk version.”

  “Then I think it’s time for us to plan a dinner and invite our prospective partners,” said Tessa.

  Five

  Redbird Cafe was known locally for dishing up the best of Bellegrove’s “soul food,” its close proximity to the garden square making it a favorite spot for the crowds who gathered for the outdoors blues concerts in the summertime. It was also the perfect place for Tessa to meet up with her potential new business partners, located halfway between the ethnic-infused restaurant district where Ama lived, and the college campus where Natalie would be coming from her latest classes in design.

  The first to arrive, Tessa was seated alone at a corner table. Red-checkered curtains lined the windows that looked out onto the street, and a few old photographs of famous jazz musicians were framed on the wall behind her. A wai
tress bustled past, refilling glasses of sweet iced tea for thirsty customers. Tessa checked her phone twice for the time, feeling slightly nervous.

  Imagining this chance on paper was one thing, but there were tiny butterflies inside her at the thought of actually going through with it. To distract herself, she perused the menu, glancing over pictures of chicken fried steak and barbecued pork ribs, sweet potatoes, collard greens, and fried okra. Blueberry cobbler and a succulent-sounding chocolate-pecan pie caught her eye beneath the desserts section.

  If she weren’t feeling sick with anticipation, her mouth would be watering.

  The seating hostess was pointing someone in Tessa’s direction now, a girl with short black hair pushed back from her face by a jeweled headband. She wore a skirt printed with a vintage fabric cityscape and the words “I love New York,” a halterneck blouse, and a pair of black sneakers. Her arms balanced a plain flat box that reminded Tessa of the kind you get from a pastry shop. Ama was here, smiling as she recognized Tessa among the restaurant’s diners.

  She had only met Ama once or twice before, the first time being when Ama had delivered the superhero cookies in the shapes of caped crusaders and magical shields. She remembered three things about that meeting vividly: the scent of unusual, dusky spices from the girl’s clothes, the wild print of the paisley blouse-and-culottes ensemble she wore, and the irresistible, casual friendliness of her smile as she chatted about her baking ambitions.

  Ama was Indian, from a somewhat traditional immigrant family who ran one of the local restaurants, which was all Tessa really knew about her personally. That, and she really, really loved baking.

  “Hi. Long time no see. Not since the Iron Man birthday party, anyway,” Ama said with a quick laugh, taking a seat at the table. “I got your message. Obviously.”

  “Obviously,” echoed Tessa, with a laugh of her own, but one that was equally forced.