event-planner uniform. Finished off with sapphire-blue kitten heels and a discreet pair of silver hoops at her ears, she looked cool and elegantly classic.
She knew some planners preferred suits. An exhibition of power and control, a statement that they were in charge and could handle any issue, but she found the same aura could be projected without looking as though she’d come straight from the boardroom. And, in her mind, she really shouldn’t be standing out at all. She and her team should move seamlessly among the crowd, looking like every other guest, just with earpieces.
She fussed with her dress again. Something looked off or maybe it was the twin flags of color on her usually porcelain skin. Grace pressed the back of her hands to the offending warmth on her cheeks, breathing slowly until the rosiness began to fade.
Better. Now she just looked as though she’d gotten a little sun. Which she might have if she didn’t have weddings every weekend.
Not that she was complaining. It was all part of her five-year plan, of which she had one year left to complete. She’d successfully started her own business, had three employees reporting to her, planned at least twenty weddings a year and last year had bought her own condo, a gorgeous one-bedroom with soaring loftlike ceilings on the downtown side of False Creek.
Surrounded by other affluent, educated types, Grace Monroe had come a long way from her roots and was proud of what she’d accomplished, even if her family didn’t understand. They didn’t have to. She was satisfied, which was more important.
She was actually a little ahead of schedule, since she hadn’t planned to buy the condo until next year. But she’d booked a wedding of one of the local hockey players, which had gotten her front-page coverage in not just the newspapers—both in print and online—but local magazines, too. All of that would have seen an increase in her business on its own, but when coupled with the inclusion of the wedding in a national lifestyle magazine that had dedicated an issue to the country’s most popular athletes, well, she’d hired that third assistant and receptionist pretty quickly.
“Grace?” Hayley spoke through her earpiece.
“Coming out.” She’d snagged access to the assistant manager’s office for the night for storage and anything else. Like changing clothes.
Grace locked the door behind her as she left. All her employees had stored their bags and purses inside, plus whatever financial items might be put in the assistant manager’s filing cabinet.
She adjusted her earpiece, eyes scanning the room. “What’s going on, Hayley?”
“The photographer just texted that he’s not coming.”
Small problem when Grace considered what else could go wrong. “Thank you, Hayley. I’ll handle it.”
The photographer was a new one whom she’d used once before and been pleased with his work, but she wouldn’t be using him again if he wasn’t reliable. And he clearly wasn’t. She’d be removing him from her list of contacts immediately.
Luckily, Grace had a solid list of vendors. She called Sherry Sanders, one of her most dependable photographers, and begged her to come for a last-minute gig tonight.
She’d figured the mention of Julia and Donovan’s names would be enough to pique Sherry’s interest, and she was right. Sherry had promised to grab her equipment and get there as soon as possible. Because there was a good chance a picture from the party would end up in one of the provincial papers, a photo credit line that would create an uptick in business. Not to mention, if Julia and Donovan were happy, they’d probably book Sherry for the actual wedding. And no serious photographer would be foolish enough to turn down the opportunity to work what looked to be one of the most talked-about weddings of the year.
By the time Sherry arrived and Grace had issued instructions about the number of family members and other important people in the couple’s lives, their style and general preferences, and made sure her team knew that Sherry was going to be handling all the photography, the wine bar had filled up. Grace recognized many of the guests. The who’s who in the city’s social scene, familiar faces in the papers’ society pages and industry professionals who were often as well-known as their restaurants. They glittered in expensive summer dresses and well-tailored suits. Jewelry and wineglasses shimmered under the lights.
Grace spotted Donovan’s parents and sister across the room. Gus Ford looked a lot like his sons, a blend of Donovan’s stoic seriousness and Owen’s easy smile. He wore a suit as well as they did, too. So clearly, there was no reason for her to get all jittery over the way Owen filled out his suit. It was simply good genetics. Like pheromones. Which Grace chalked up to animal instinct. Something she had overcome, much like her nontraditional childhood.
Evelyn was petite and energetic. Her eyes were bright as she chattered to her husband. Her elegant lilac dress set off her dark hair and complemented the deep indigo tie Gus wore. Grace smiled. She’d never had the opportunity to dress as a couple, except for Halloween, and she’d stopped participating in the costume and candy-consuming ritual when she was ten.
Grace headed over to greet them in person and assure them that they could come to her if they had any questions or concerns.
“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Grace Monroe.” She held out a hand to the brunette standing with Gus and Evelyn. Even if Mallory hadn’t looked like a taller, sleeker version of her mother, Grace would have known they were related by the way her parents looked at her. A mix of pride and love showered over their lone daughter.
“Mallory Ford.” Her grip was firm, the sign of a woman who lived and succeeded in a man’s world. “This is outstanding. Really. I can’t believe it’s Elephants.”
Grace decided she liked Mallory, or at least liked her taste. She seemed to look beyond the surface to note the effort and time that had gone into making each choice. Her strapless dress was aqua and gathered at one side with a slit that provided a peek of leg. With the wrong accessories or on a shorter, curvier woman, it might have looked trashy. But Mallory, with her hair left down to cascade down her back, simple gold drop earrings and bangle bracelet and matching shoes, looked upscale and luxe. Which Grace imagined she was. “Thank you.”
“I agree.” Evelyn looked around, appreciation clear on her face. “I know it’s our place, and I can recognize so much of it, yet it looks different. Like a version created just for Julia and Donovan.” Which was exactly what Grace had been going for. Evelyn clasped a hand around her husband’s arm. “Isn’t it wonderful, Gus?”
“Better than wonderful.” Gus’s voice was as warm as his eyes. “You’ve done a fantastic job, Ms. Monroe.”
Grace felt the warmth from the pair of them seep into her, like a flower absorbing the heat of the sun. She clasped each of their hands in turn, wrapping them with both of hers. “Please, call me Grace.”
She jumped when she sensed someone move up beside her and the scent of clover with a hint of smoke, like honey by the campfire, surrounded her. She knew that scent. She loved that scent, but wished she didn’t.
“How come you never say that to me?” Grace tried not to stiffen as she turned to look at Owen.
“Owen.” Evelyn seemed delighted to see her son. Grace wished she felt the same. Instead, she was left with a discomfiting heat swirling beneath her skin. Mallory hugged her brother and whispered something in his ear that made him throw back his head and laugh.
Grace felt a bubble of envy and shifted
