everything simple and staid and normal. How refreshing.
As she was finishing up the proposal, Sophie Vanderhooven called sounding excited. “I heard Melissa Stanhope got the most divine cake for her wedding this Saturday.”
“Yes, it’s lovely. Laurel, our cake maker has a real gift.”
“But Cinderella’s coach? That is such an amazing idea.” She now recalled that it was the Stanhopes who had recommended her services to the Vanderhoovens.
“Even better, the cake is made with pumpkin.”
“I know! She told me. Can I have something like that for my wedding?”
“Of course you can.” Did this woman not have any original ideas of her own? “Not the same cake, of course, because Laurel creates a unique design for every event, but you can give her guidelines.”
A sigh wafted over the phone. “Mother wants a traditional tiered cake complete with little plastic bride and groom on the top, but I want something more romantic, more me.”
“I’m sure we can find something that will make you and your mother both happy,” she said diplomatically.
“I hope so. Anyhow, I’ll see you Saturday.”
“Saturday?”
“At Melissa’s wedding.”
“Oh, of course. Though I’m not a guest. If I do my job right, you shouldn’t even notice me.”
Sophie laughed in her elegant way. “No one could miss you.”
Before she could ask what that was supposed to mean, in a polite way, the woman was gone.
Puzzled, she got up and walked to the front reception area. “Dee?”
Her assistant glanced up from matching the place cards to the Stanhopes’ master guest list. “Mmm-hmm?”
“Do I stand out in a crowd?”
Dee blinked at her. “You have Amy Adams’s face and hair and Marilyn Monroe’s body, and, I don’t know, a sort of commanding way about you. It’s what makes you a great wedding planner. Everyone scurries when you tell them to. So yes. Of course you’re noticeable.”
“Huh. Thought I was being so discreet.” She wandered back toward her office.
“Hey, speaking of discreet, when are you meeting that CPA?”
“We’re having coffee Sunday afternoon.”
“Brilliant. I can’t wait to hear about it on Monday.”
“What’s the weather forecast for tomorrow?”
Dee didn’t have to look, she’d already checked. “Low fifties, no precipitation expected.”
“Wonderful. A perfect day for a late fall wedding.”
And so it was, she realized when she rose the next morning. The day was dry, the sun was shining and there was no snow on the ground. After showering and doing her hair in a restrained bun, she slipped into a navy pencil skirt and white blouse, then pushed her feet into her high-heeled navy pumps. Discreet and professional, that’s how she thought a wedding planner should look.
Amy Adams indeed. Dee must be angling for a raise.
4
“WE CAN’T FIND the best man,” Mr. Stanhope hissed into Karen’s ear.
So far, everything for the Stanhope wedding had been going smoother than a chocolate milkshake. This was her first lump. “Has he answered his cell phone?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’ll get right on it. In the meantime, Mr. Stanhope, remember, you hired me to take care of problems. I’ll stall the bridal party.” Her calm manner and soothing smile had their desired effect. The father of the bride’s high color receded and he nodded, standing straighter in his tux.
“Glad to have you onboard.”
“We may need to call in a stand-in, but I promise, you’ll have a best man for your daughter’s wedding.
“Keep an eye on things out front,” she whispered to Dee, then, without any visible haste, she walked from the front of the church and out into the parking lot. Guests were still arriving but the bridal party was scheduled to pull up in fifteen minutes.
She slipped into her car and reached for the Stanhope wedding binder. In it was all the information she could possibly need, including home and cell numbers for the missing man.
She called both and was invited twice to leave a message. Which she did. Not good.
She then called the driver of the limousine bringing the bridal party to the church and asked him to take a detour. “I need five extra minutes.”
“No problem.”
Having stalled the bride, she left her car and slipped into the church through a side entrance. She knew her way around most of the churches and synagogues of the city. She made her way to the anteroom where the groom and his party would be waiting.
The groom looked a little pale, but steady. He glanced up when she entered. “I’m going to kill Brian. He promised he’d be here.”
“Does he have issues with punctuality?”
“Not usually.”
Her cell phone rang. “Ah.” Sure enough, it was the best man. “Flat tire,” he panted. “I went to change it, but that is my spare.”
“Where are you?”
He named a location that was a good five minutes away. “Are you dressed to go?”
“Yep.”
“All right. I’ll come and get you.”
She turned to the groom. “Appoint a stand-in just in case.”
“But the ring?”
She slipped a plain gold band from her right hand. “I always carry a spare.” Then she smiled at him. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
She sprinted to her car and made her way out of the parking lot, now quieting as most of the guests had arrived. She was in time to see Sophie Vanderhooven step out of a Lincoln, Dexter behind her. She supposed she should have known Sophie would bring a stand-in for her fiancé who was still working in Italy.
Since she felt it would be rude to drive by a paying client, she drew to a stop and rolled down her window. The autumn day was crisp and cold and tonight the temperature was forecast to dip.
“You look lovely, Sophie,” she said. The blue woolen suit was both stylish and classic, rather like Sophie herself.
“Thanks.
