Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“She’ll be a while.” Queenie winks. “Now grab those loose papers off my desk and let’s go. We can organize them on the drive over and hope they’re what we need.”
I’m left with no other sound argument. Queenie needs my help, and I can’t leave her high and dry what with a thousand papers to sift through, good grief.
On the drive over, I declare, “I’m staying in the car.”
“No you’re not.”
“I’m not going to bump into Sawyer.”
She’s noticed something is off with us, but she knows better than to pry. “Oh, what are you worrying about? The vineyard is huge and we’re just going to be in the chapel. Won’t take but thirty minutes once it’s all said and done.”
Lies. These are all lies.
Queenie should have explained the situation better. This is no ordinary rehearsal. The bride and groom don’t meet us in the vineyard—they can’t because neither of them is currently located in the state of Texas. They’re not even together! The groom phones in from his office in Silicon Valley, and the bride is on Harbour Island in the Bahamas, enjoying a last-minute bachelorette party. It takes us thirty minutes just to get everyone on the same Zoom call using Queenie’s iPad.
“Can everyone hear me?” she shouts.
“The connection’s a little spotty on my end,” the bride says in a polished British accent.
I bite my tongue even though I want to tell her the connection is spotty because she’s currently lounging on a beach chair near the ocean! Where’s the nearest WiFi router? Florida?
“All good on my end,” the groom says. “Who’s the new girl?”
It takes me a second to realize he’s referring to me; I’m positioned just behind Queenie on the screen.
Queenie shifts the iPad so I’m in the center of the frame. “Michael and Amber, this is Madison, our temporary Cassie since she went on maternity leave.”
“She had her baby?!” Amber exclaims. “Tell her congratulations for me!”
“Yes, we’re all so excited, and we’ll pass on your well wishes. To put your mind at ease concerning this change, Madison is my daughter and she happens to be one of the best wedding planners in the game. She’s worked at Evermore Events in Montgomery for years.”
“Oh, my friend used Evermore!” Amber squeals. “Lisbet Stanbury?”
I grin, proud to admit, “Lisbet was my client. Her wedding was beautiful.”
This coincidence earns me immediate respect in Amber’s eyes, which is good because we’ll need it. This wedding is going to take pure luck to pull off.
The nuptials are in two weeks. There’ll be an evening ceremony with a cocktail hour and a reception at the vineyard, followed by an afterparty at their lavish hill country home (which I’m assuming is the reason they’re having this wedding in Texas in the first place).
Ideally, they would be here for an entire week leading up to the wedding, but Michael is wrapping up a huge deal with his company next week and can’t leave California until late Friday. Amber, meanwhile, has a friend’s 30th birthday in New York City next Thursday and will be taking a red-eye to Austin later that night. Any number of things could go wrong between now and then, but Michael and Amber don’t seem at all concerned about flight delays or last-minute issues.
“It’ll all be fine so long as there’s plenty of wine and champagne.” Amber laughs.
Michael agrees. “If there are issues, we’ll just have another wedding in a few years.”
“Ha ha ha!” Amber finds this hilarious.
Oh to be so rich that the expense of a wedding means nothing.
Queenie goes through a few details with them: the helicopter is all set to fly them in for their grand entrance. The exotic menagerie had to be scrapped last minute due to local laws (“Can’t we just bribe the police?” Amber asks with genuine curiosity), and two band members from Maroon 5 are scheduled to play an intimate set for them and fifty guests at their home on Saturday evening, but they’ve capped it at ten minutes, no pictures.
“What’s that running me?” Michael jokes.
Amber laughs. “Oh Michael, what does it matter?!”
This is not the first time I’ve worked a wedding with high-profile musical guests and a helicopter fly-in, but I’m shocked Queenie’s managed to pull this off. I mean, was Marge the one on the phone with Maroon 5’s manager? I smile just thinking about it.
When I was young, Queenie specialized in small country weddings, sunflowers in mason jars, homemade cakes, maybe a local band if the bride and groom really wanted to splurge. Clearly, Wildflower Weddings has expanded beyond my wildest dreams. Imagine how big it could grow if Queenie had a filing system in place! A working website! A door with the name of her actual business on it!
The wood floor creaks behind us and we turn just as Crawford Garnett steps into the chapel. “Everything all good in here?”