I spot Lana approaching from the parking lot. I think about how many times she’s expressed her dislike of combining the two proposals, and I start to wonder if she might be right. I wonder if I might be ruining Tina’s special day. Or even Ryan’s.
“What’s the matter?” Oliver asks.
I shake my head. “What if what we’re doing is all wrong?” I ask. “Am I taking away something that’s supposed to be special for Tina? Am I ruining her moment?”
He frowns. “I think you know Tina better than anyone else. If you thought for even a second that she wouldn’t love this idea, you never would have done it.”
“And what about Ryan?”
He shrugs. “You just worry about Tina, okay? I’ll handle Ryan.”
I take in a breath. “I hope you’re right.”
I shake the thoughts away and look up at all the people who are here to make this happen.
With Lana and Oliver’s help, we go over the sequence of events for this weekend, practicing every move and every note until everyone is confident that we can pull this off. As the song comes to an end, a couple of kids who were watching from the sidelines run through with their arms spread wide, pretending to be the airplanes. I laugh, loving how invested everyone is, even those who are just here to watch.
“And then, when one or—hopefully—both of them say yes, the fireworks will be set off. By then, the planes should be safely away from the park, the horses will be gone, and the flash mob will be over.”
Marjorie raises her hand. “What do you mean if both of them say yes?”
“Oh. Uh.” My face heats. “Nothing.”
I look back out at the crowd, hoping to find a distraction, and I spot a guy near the front also raising his hand. I point at him. “Yes?”
“Will there be a camera crew?”
I exchange a look with Oliver. In all of my planning, I hadn’t really thought of having a camera crew. Tina didn’t explicitly ask for it, and neither did Ryan—though Tina did say she wants the type of proposal that you might see go viral online. I guess I figured I would record the whole thing on my phone for her, or have someone else do it. Oliver shrugs. I look back at the guy who asked the question. “No, there won’t be.”
He steps up closer so that he’s only talking to me and Oliver and not the entire football field full of dancers. “Seems like a shame to be putting on this whole show and not even have it on camera. Don’t you think the couple would love to see it all after the fact?”
He has a point, but there are only a few days left before the fair. I’m not sure I can find a camera crew on such short notice. “You’re right, but?—”
“I can do it if you need it,” the guy says. “I own a local documentary production company here in town. I make short films all the time to help promote businesses. I could make sure neither of your friends see our guys with the cameras. I have drones, too, for an aerial shot of the whole thing. Even if the couple doesn’t want the video, something like that could go a long way for your company, don’t you think?”
I nod. A professional video would look better than one recorded afar from my phone. I don’t have to think too hard about my answer: “Okay. I’m in. Your company is available this weekend?”
“Of course,” he says. “I’ll have to be filming instead of dancing, but…” He looks out at the crowd. “I don’t think you’ll miss me out there.”
I laugh. “Thank you so much for offering this. Can we talk about rates after practice?”
He agrees, and then we go through the whole set one more time. By the end of the evening, everyone knows where they need to go and in what order they need to be there, the transition from the dance to the band looks perfect, and I’ve officially hired a camera crew to record the whole thing.
“How do you feel?” Oliver asks me as the football field clears out.
“Nervous,” I admit. “But good. I think that Tina is going to love it. I just hope that Ryan does, too.”
“I think that everything you’ve put together is going to be too amazing for him to not love it,” he says.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Say Yes
I’ve never seen Tina look this nervous before. She crosses her arms, tucking her hands under her upper arms and into her sides.
“Don’t do that,” I warn her. “Your sweaty hands are going to leave marks on your dress.”
She uncrosses her arms and shakes her hands, trying to cool them off. I head into my kitchen with her trailing behind me.
