The present…
The long, pearl-studded train of the creamy candlelight-satin wedding gown cascaded in graceful folds behind the bride as she glided to a halt in front of the altar. She smiled demurely at the groom through a gossamer cloud of veil. The organ music trailed off. A respectful hush fell. The minister cleared his throat.
“Well, that’s it for me,” Hannah murmured to her assistant as they retreated to the portico in front of the church. “I’m out of here. You can handle the receiving line. The limo is ready. Keep an eye on the four-yearold nephew. He’ll probably make another grab for the bride’s train when she walks back down the aisle. See you at the reception.”
“It’s so perfect.” Carla Groves seized a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. She peeked back into the church. “The flowers, the candles. Everything. The bride looks as if she just stepped out of a fantasy.”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, Carla, but you aren’t going to last long in this business if you weep every time you send a bride up the aisle.”
“But she’s so beautiful. Practically glowing.”
“Uh-huh.” Hannah snapped the lock on her briefcase. “Looks even better this time than she did the last time. Probably because her budget was much larger. She did very well in the divorce settlement, you know. Had a great lawyer.”
Carla rolled her eyes. “You’re such a cynic, Hannah.”
“No, I’m not. I agree with you. Jennifer Ballinger does make a lovely bride. And a very profitable one for Weddings by Harte. This is her second marriage with us, and I have every expectation that in a couple of years she’ll come back to this firm for her third. Nothing like a repeat customer, I always say.”
At five-thirty that evening, Hannah stepped out of the elevator into a corridor decorated in shades of tasteful beige and walked down the hall toward the door of her apartment. Her footsteps were hushed by the thick, pale carpeting, but the door of the suite next to hers opened before she reached it.
Winston rushed out to greet her with as much enthusiasm as a properly bred Schnauzer considered appropriate to exhibit upon such occasions. As always, the sight of the small, elegant, salt-and-pepper dog hurrying toward her lowered Hannah’s stress level by several degrees.
She smiled as she crouched to scratch Winston behind the ears. He gave a discreetly muffled whine, quivered with pleasure, and licked her hand.
“Hello, pal. Sorry I’m late. Been a long day.”
Winston looked up at her through a fringe of long, silvery lashes, understanding in his intelligent eyes.
Mrs. Blankenship struck her head around the edge of the door. “Oh, there you are, dear. Winston was starting to get a trifle anxious. How did the wedding go?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. The usual number of snafus at the reception. The caterer turned up with a cheese tart instead of the asparagus canapés that the bride had selected. The photographer helped himself to a couple of glasses of champagne and started to flirt with the bartender. The flower girl came very close to getting into a food fight with the four-year-old nephew.”
“Just the usual, then.” Mrs. Blankenship nodded wisely. She always loved to hear about the weddings. “But I’m sure you nipped all the potential disasters in the bud behind the scenes.”
“That’s what I get paid to do.” Hannah leaned down to pat Winston, who bounced around her high heels. “I think the bride was satisfied. As far as she was concerned, everything went off as if the whole thing had been staged by a computer.”
Mrs. Blankenship pursed her lips. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate image, dear. The thought of a computer-generated wedding is really quite dreadful. It sounds so cold. Weddings are supposed to evoke all sorts of wonderful emotions, after all.”
“Trust me, Mrs. Blankenship, behind the scenes, a well-managed wedding has a lot in common with a launch of the space shuttle.”
“You know, dear, I hate to mention this, but you’ve become increasingly cynical ever since you ended your engagement last year. It’s so sad to see a young, healthy, vibrant woman like you turn jaded. Maybe you took on too much when you signed up for all those evening classes at the college.”
“Mrs. Blankenship—”
“You’ve been working much too hard for the past year. Perhaps you need a vacation. Go someplace where you can relax and regain your interest in your business and your social life.”
“I have no social life to revive, Mrs. Blankenship. And as for my career, nothing will ever make me starry-eyed about my business. The only weddings that I actually enjoy doing are those in which I know for a fact that the couple met through my sister’s agency. At least I can feel reasonably confident that those marriages have a good chance of lasting.”
“Yes, your sister does have a knack for matchmaking, doesn’t she?” Mrs. Blankenship got a dreamy expression in her eyes. “She obviously has a wonderful sense of intuition when it comes to that sort of thing.”
“I hate to disillusion you, Mrs. Blankenship, but Lillian uses a computer, not her intuition.” Hannah dug her keys out of her massive shoulder bag. “Does Winston need a walk right away?”
“No, dear, we just got back from our walkies,” Mrs. Blankenship said.
“Great.” Hannah went to her own door and unlocked it, Winston trotting eagerly at her heels. “Thanks again, Mrs. Blankenship.”
“Anytime, dear.” Mrs. Blankenship paused. “You know, you really should consider taking some time off. Your busy season is finished. You could slip away for a while.”
“Funny you should mention that, Mrs. Blankenship. I was just thinking the same thing.”
