Three Girls And A Wedding (4 page)

By the time our plates had been
cleared and the coffee brought over, I felt a little dizzy. For the first time
in my life, I was actually grateful for Jason. He somehow managed to keep an
interested expression on his face, nodding and agreeing in all the right
places, even asking questions. This left me free to feverishly write down
everything Kiki was saying—a plus in my book because it prohibited me
from having to respond much.

Kiki talked, without interruption,
until the waiter returned yet again with another couple. They were both tall,
very good-looking, and exuded an air of confidence and power you only found in
the very wealthy.

“Mom! Daddy!” Kiki squealed,
standing up and running around the table to hug them. From the excitement she
was displaying at their appearance, one would assume she hadn’t seen her
parents in a very long time, though I knew that she, in fact, still lived with
them in their mansion in Bloomfield Hills.

“Guys, I want you to meet my
parents, David and Veronica,” she said, turning back to me and Jason. We both
stood immediately, accepting their handshakes and smiling like our lives
depended on it.

“Mr. and Mrs. Barker, we’ve just
been listening to Kiki’s and Eric’s ideas for the wedding,” Jason said once we
had all taken our seats. He leaned back in his chair and smiled comfortably at
the couple. “You’ve given us so much to think about. I can tell already this
wedding is going to be a smash.”

Kiki beamed at him, but I noticed
David was rolling his eyes.

“Did she give you all this crap
about fairies?” he asked, as he added some cream to his wife’s coffee for her.

“Daddy!” Kiki exclaimed. “It’s not
crap! Fairies are totally in!”

“I think, darling,” Veronica said
calmly, “that Daddy’s point is that this is a very important social event for
us. A lot of people are going to be there, important people that Daddy works
with.”

I wondered fleetingly if Mrs.
Barker always talked to her daughter like she was seven.

“I want you to have the wedding of
your dreams,
Kik
,” David said, leaning back in his
chair. “But it needs to be appropriate.”

“That’s where we come in, Mr.
Barker,” Jason said, leaning forward. “We’ve gotten a great sense from Kiki
about her interests and what she would like to see at the wedding. She’s
clearly given it a lot of thought, and that’s great.”

I nodded feverishly at his side,
smiling at Kiki, and feeling more than a little grossed out by my own ass-
kissing.

“Our job now is to take the
different ideas you’ve given us and form a cohesive plan for your events,”
Jason continued. “A good event planner doesn’t give you every little detail you
want regardless of how it fits in. A good planner will take your ideas and
incorporate them into an elegant, classy affair.”

I looked over at Mr. and Mrs.
Barker. Both of them were smiling slightly at Jason, clearly eating up all the
crap he was spewing.

“We’ll walk you through every
decision, every step of the way. I’ll primarily be dealing with your vendors
and overseeing things, getting input from you both and your parents. I’m going
to ask Jen here to buddy up with you, Kiki. She’ll be your right hand for
everything—dress shopping, color scheme, flowers, you name it.”

I figured Jason would want to
operate this way—
swanning
around making phone
calls, talking money, feeling important, while I did all the grunt work with
the bride. Typical.

But I couldn’t dwell on any
irritation, because Kiki was smiling at me now, a terrifyingly wide smile, and
I had to smile back and assure her that
 
I
was just, like, so excited to be working with her.

Jason nodded at me, my cue to take
over, and I wondered where on earth I should start. I knew the Barker family
was all looking at me, waiting for me to talk, and I ordered myself not to
panic. Instead, I appraised the bride closely, then leaned toward her. “Kiki,
tell me, what one thing are you most excited about for this wedding?”

“Oh, becoming Eric’s wife.
Definitely, definitely becoming Mrs. Thompson.” She looked up at her fiancé and
smiled radiantly. He returned her gaze, an expression of pure adoration on his
face. Ah, sweet. They were really in love with each other.

I smiled at her again, and this
time I didn’t have to fake it.

“I think that goes without saying,”
I said. “But when it comes to wedding details—flowers, music, food, the
cake—what are you most excited to pick out?”

She paused for a moment, then her
face lit up. “The dress!”

I nodded at her, making a note in
my file. “I think that’s a wonderful place to start,” I told her. “The dress
sets the tone for the entire event. How you look on your day will determine how
you feel on your day, and how you feel will determine what this wedding is
really all about.”

Kiki and her parents all nodded,
seemingly enraptured by my words. I felt a small swell of pride. I was good at
this.

“I would love to make some
appointments for you,” I told Kiki. “We can plan a really fun day with your
bridesmaids, your mom, whomever you like. We can do lunch and get you into some
dresses. How does that sound?”

“Oh, Jen,” she sighed. “That sounds
like so much fun. Yes, please, let’s do that!”

“Wonderful. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Over Kiki’s head, Jason was looking
at me, and I wasn’t so sure how I felt about the expression on his face. He
looked pleased, impressed, and something else…something almost…calculating.

 
Chapter Five

‘There are many
pressures you must deal with when planning the wedding. Unfortunately,
oftentimes those pressures come from within your family. In addition to your
desires, you will also have to consider the expectations of other members of
your family, particularly your parents. The simple truth is your parents can
put a great amount of pressure on you. If you can keep in mind the fact that
they love you, you should be able to deal with this pressure with grace. And if
not, that’s what the cocktails at the reception are for!’
—
The
Bride’s Guide to a Fabulous Wedding

Before long, the Barker wedding had
completely taken over my life. I spoke with Kiki several times every day; I
think she had moved me to number one on her speed dial. I was now having lunch
with her a few times a week to discuss her ideas.

I had asked her to start clipping
pictures from magazines to create idea boards, a favorite technique of mine.
Usually my clients had a good time with the task, a throwback to elementary
school days and collages in art class—plus, it really did give me a good
sense of what they were picturing.

Kiki had exceeded all of my
expectations—and assumptions about common sense—when she met me for
lunch one day with no fewer than ten full sized poster boards of magazine
clippings. “I did one whole one for the dress; I just found so many I liked, I
couldn’t decide. So then I decided I may as well make a separate one for the
flowers, and the color scheme, and the favors…”

Working with Kiki was, in a word,
overwhelming. But I was surprised to find it was also kind of fun. Her
enthusiasm and excitement were contagious.

Nevertheless, when Friday rolled
around, I found myself nearly delirious with happiness at the thought of having
two full days off. There was some work I would need to get done at home but I
was hopeful that I could get through the weekend without having to talk to
Jason or Kiki.

At six on the dot I shut down my
computer, packed up my bag, and slipped out of the office as quickly and as
quietly as I could, determined not to be stopped by anyone. When I finally
pulled my Jeep into the driveway of our little yellow house, I sighed with
relief. I was free.

I walked into the house and was met
with an alarming sight. Ginny and Annie were both dressed head to toe in
spandex, jumping around the living room while punching and kicking
energetically.

“What the hell are you guys doing?”

“Light It Up!” Ginny gasped,
kicking her leg behind her while simultaneously trying to spin her hips.

“Light what up?” I asked,
completely baffled.

“No, that’s what it’s called,” Annie
said, wiping her forehead before she raised her arms and mimed attacking a
punching bag. She took a huge leap backwards and, for the first time, I could
see that the television was on and they were mimicking the movements of a
rather scary looking woman in a leotard.

“Are you guys doing an exercise
tape?” I asked, aghast. My friends and I prided ourselves on never, ever doing
aerobics of any kind. It was so not our style. We were more prone to rambling
walks (perfect for gossiping) or energetic dancing (perfect for drinking).

“Yes,” Ginny huffed. “And shut up
about it, it’s really good.”

Unfortunately, at that moment,
Ginny tried to accomplish a kind of twisting shimmy, followed by a roundhouse
kick, and she nearly toppled over. I felt completely justified in laughing at
her.

“I’m going in my room,” I
snickered. “You two enjoy yourselves out here.”

I carefully maneuvered around them,
the instructor’s cries of, “Give me energy people! It comes from inside!”
following me down the hall.

Once safe in my room, I changed
immediately into yoga pants and an old t-shirt and flopped down on my bed,
determined not to move for at least the next half hour. I was exhausted and it
felt so nice to be back in normal clothes again.

Before I could really relax, the
iPhone on my bedside table started ringing. I groaned. If it was Kiki or Jason,
I would have to answer it. I could just see my perfect weekend of relaxation
shriveling before my eyes. Swearing under my breath, I picked it up and looked
at the display. To my intense relief, it was my mother.

“Hey, Mom,” I said.

“Hi, Jen! How are you, sweetie?” My
mother’s voice was warm, familiar. I hadn’t seen her in several weeks and I
felt a pang of missing her.

“I’m good Mom; tired. How are you?”

“Fine, fine. Very busy, you know.”

I could imagine. Mom worked in real
estate and was constantly on the go, constantly working. She was very
motivated, my mother.

“How’s Lou?” I asked.

“Oh, your father is fine. He’s
closing on four houses this week, can you imagine?”

Lou Carney was not, in fact, my
father. He had met my mother when she became a real estate agent in his firm,
and they had married when I was fourteen. Lou had been a wonderful stepfather
to me, absolutely wonderful, but I still couldn’t manage to call him Dad. It
felt too disloyal.

“Wow, that’s pretty impressive,” I
replied.

“It’s nothing like what we used to
do,” she sighed. “But, considering the situation, we can’t complain.”

My mother was referring to the
recent collapse in the housing market. It had hit Michigan particularly hard,
and there didn’t seem to be an end in sight. But Lou and my mom had not been
deterred. Instead, they started waking up earlier, leaving work later, taking
on more and more clients, switching their focus to short sales and
foreclosures. They were doing fairly well as far as I could see. Another
success story for the Dynamic Duo of Carney and Carney.

“How’s work for you, sweetheart?”
This was absolutely typical of my conversations with my mom. We would exhaust
all matters professional quite thoroughly before moving on to anything personal
(if there was time, of course).

I settled down into my pillows and
told her all about the new account, knowing she would be thrilled by the
opportunity I had. She didn’t disappoint: when I told her the wedding was for
the Barker family, she actually gasped out loud.

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s absolutely
wonderful!” she exclaimed when I was finished. “I’m so proud of you. What a
step up!” I noted that she didn’t ask why I hadn’t called her sooner. I hadn’t
expected her to. My mother would assume that, given such an opportunity, I
would spend my valuable time getting down to work, not calling everyone I knew
to blather the news.

“Now, darling,” she said, and there
was a tone to her voice that I did not like, but was very familiar with. “Are
you sure it’s okay to be home for the weekend quite so early?”

I sighed. It was coming up on seven
on a Friday night, but to my mother, that was hardly time to knock off work.

“I have work to do from home, Mom,”
I explained, trying not to sound defensive. “Kiki and Jason have my number and
can call any time; they both know that.”

“I just want to make sure you’re
putting in your top effort on this, sweetie. It’s so vital that you make a good
impression on these people.”

“I understand that, Mother. I’ve
been working very hard.”

“You can never work too hard, Jen.
I hope if I’ve taught you anything over the years, it’s that.”

“You have, Mom. Like I said, I
brought lots of work home with me.”

“Well then,” she said, sounding
much happier, “you probably want to get right back to it, don’t you?”

“Yup,” I muttered, feeling
incredibly childish and lazy all of a sudden.

“I’ll let you go then. Do let me
know how it’s going, won’t you?”

“Of course, Mom. Give my love to
Lou, okay?”

“I will. Say hello to the girls.
Goodbye, sweetheart. I love you. I’m so proud of you! Do a fabulous job, okay?”

“Bye, Mom,” I said. “I love you.”

I ended the call, staring at the
blank screen for a long moment. It was not lost on me that my mom didn’t ask a
single thing about my life outside of work. She didn’t ask about Ginny and
Annie, didn’t ask after Danny. She wasn’t curious if I was dating, or if I had
visited any nice restaurants lately. She wasn’t even interested in hearing how
much money I had saved at that Nordstrom sale last week.