until her check for $250,000 was nothing more than confetti.
T wo hours later, Jamie awoke with a start to find her cheek plastered to the open pages of
10 Simple Steps to Becoming a World-Class Wedding Planner
and a thin rivulet of drool pooled in the book’s spine.
“Oog.” She rolled to the side and swiped at the page with her shirtsleeve. Studying in bed had always been her downfall; dull text and orange highlighters provided the perfect prelude to a catnap.
Coffee. She needed more coffee. Plus a more comprehensive how-to guide. At least four of the ten simple steps focused on creating and enforcing an ironclad client contract. She didn’t need a manual to tell her to always get some money up front. Please. They might as well throw in sage little tidbits like
Don’t sleep with the groom
. Jamie already knew how to protect herself; the whole point of becoming an event planner was to protect someone else’s special day.
She headed to the kitchen, patting Mr. Wonderful on his winged cap on her way down the stairs. “Ahoy,” she said when she saw Cait seated at the kitchen table. “Any coffee left? I need to double down on my caffeine consumption. I’m telling you, I should be writing this guide instead of reading it.” She held up the book with a grimace. “Speaking of which, how’s your writing going? Did you start chapter one yet?”
Cait stared down at her plate of apple wedges and cheddar cheese. “I’ve been at the computer all morning. Just taking a five-minute break.”
Jamie nodded. “Well, let me know if I’m making too much noise or, you know, disturbing the creative cocoon in any way.”
Cait shrugged one shoulder. “No, you’re fine.”
The ancient avocado green wall phone rang, making them both jump. Jamie picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Oh, thank goodness you’re there, Jame, you have to help me!” Brooke’s voice was a hiss of panic.
“What’s wrong?”
“Hang on a second, I have to make sure no one hears this or I am fired, do you hear me?
Fired!
” There was a lot of rustling, then Brooke came back on the line. “The college ishosting a 150th anniversary celebration the day after tomorrow and all the trustees and muckety-mucks are invited and I’m in charge of the cake—I’m always in charge of the cake—and I thought I called the baker weeks ago, I could have sworn, but somehow, between everything with Arden and the funeral and the inheritance and buying the house …”
“There’s no cake,” Jamie finished for her.
Cait looked up from her apple with raised eyebrows.
“Exactly,” Brooke said. “I just called the baker and asked if she could pull something together on short notice, and she actually laughed at me! She says there’s nothing she can do. I can’t believe it, she’s never said no before. And the college has been such a loyal customer for the past few years.”
“Jeez,” Jamie said. “What a—”
“I know! That’s the problem with trying to do business in this smug little town: no competition. What am I going to do? I can’t show up to this with a grocery store cake!”
“Brooke. Settle down,” Jamie said. “Seriously, breathe. You don’t want to get the vapors and pass out.”
Cait’s eyebrows inched higher and higher as she craned to overhear Brooke’s end of the conversation.
“I can’t believe I dropped the ball like this.” Brooke emitted a tiny squeak of despair. “They’re going to fire me, and I can’t blame them one bit. I’m going to have to rush order something from Albany for half the quality and twice the price.”
“No, you’re not.” Jamie turned to Cait and gestured that she needed a pen and paper. “It’s all about confidence, remember? Just put on your game face and maintain. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“But how? We only have two days. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to do what any self-respecting English major would do: pull something out of my ass. Isn’t that
T wo hours later, Jamie awoke with a start to find her cheek plastered to the open pages of
10 Simple Steps to Becoming a World-Class Wedding Planner
and a thin rivulet of drool pooled in the book’s spine.
“Oog.” She rolled to the side and swiped at the page with her shirtsleeve. Studying in bed had always been her downfall; dull text and orange highlighters provided the perfect prelude to a catnap.
Coffee. She needed more coffee. Plus a more comprehensive how-to guide. At least four of the ten simple steps focused on creating and enforcing an ironclad client contract. She didn’t need a manual to tell her to always get some money up front. Please. They might as well throw in sage little tidbits like
Don’t sleep with the groom
. Jamie already knew how to protect herself; the whole point of becoming an event planner was to protect someone else’s special day.
She headed to the kitchen, patting Mr. Wonderful on his winged cap on her way down the stairs. “Ahoy,” she said when she saw Cait seated at the kitchen table. “Any coffee left? I need to double down on my caffeine consumption. I’m telling you, I should be writing this guide instead of reading it.” She held up the book with a grimace. “Speaking of which, how’s your writing going? Did you start chapter one yet?”
Cait stared down at her plate of apple wedges and cheddar cheese. “I’ve been at the computer all morning. Just taking a five-minute break.”
Jamie nodded. “Well, let me know if I’m making too much noise or, you know, disturbing the creative cocoon in any way.”
Cait shrugged one shoulder. “No, you’re fine.”
The ancient avocado green wall phone rang, making them both jump. Jamie picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Oh, thank goodness you’re there, Jame, you have to help me!” Brooke’s voice was a hiss of panic.
“What’s wrong?”
“Hang on a second, I have to make sure no one hears this or I am fired, do you hear me?
Fired!
” There was a lot of rustling, then Brooke came back on the line. “The college ishosting a 150th anniversary celebration the day after tomorrow and all the trustees and muckety-mucks are invited and I’m in charge of the cake—I’m always in charge of the cake—and I thought I called the baker weeks ago, I could have sworn, but somehow, between everything with Arden and the funeral and the inheritance and buying the house …”
“There’s no cake,” Jamie finished for her.
Cait looked up from her apple with raised eyebrows.
“Exactly,” Brooke said. “I just called the baker and asked if she could pull something together on short notice, and she actually laughed at me! She says there’s nothing she can do. I can’t believe it, she’s never said no before. And the college has been such a loyal customer for the past few years.”
“Jeez,” Jamie said. “What a—”
“I know! That’s the problem with trying to do business in this smug little town: no competition. What am I going to do? I can’t show up to this with a grocery store cake!”
“Brooke. Settle down,” Jamie said. “Seriously, breathe. You don’t want to get the vapors and pass out.”
Cait’s eyebrows inched higher and higher as she craned to overhear Brooke’s end of the conversation.
“I can’t believe I dropped the ball like this.” Brooke emitted a tiny squeak of despair. “They’re going to fire me, and I can’t blame them one bit. I’m going to have to rush order something from Albany for half the quality and twice the price.”
“No, you’re not.” Jamie turned to Cait and gestured that she needed a pen and paper. “It’s all about confidence, remember? Just put on your game face and maintain. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“But how? We only have two days. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to do what any self-respecting English major would do: pull something out of my ass. Isn’t that
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