To be fair, though, we haven’t moved more than twenty feet, and I’m leaned against the wall, listening, and feeling transported too.
She’s amazing.
“We’ll be buying out the property for the entirety of the weekend,” she says, gaining agreement from Cornelia, before she briefly checks in with Hailey whether she’d like to take advantage of the space to host a bachelorette party or bridal shower here. Of course, it’s a prime location for a bride-to-be to “indulge in the ultimate comfort.”
Wow.
I see why Hailey insisted that no other wedding planner would suffice.
Five minutes pass with them confirming the wedding party (five bridesmaids and groomsmen, respectively) and the event weekend, which will begin Friday, September nineteenth, for the rehearsal, followed by a serene dinner in the indoor garden—my eyebrows shoot up, because I guess that’s how we’re now referring to the conservatory—with the ceremony and reception, Saturday the twentieth, culminating on Sunday with a morning-after brunch on the terrace lawn.
Jotting down a few notes on my iPad, I listen as she points out the striking white marble floors and alcoves set to be restored to showcase flower arrangements, as this is where guests will gather for cocktail hour before they’re granted access to the grand ballroom.
I follow closely, listening to themoohandahhas we tour the library, conservatory, and drawing room—a great location for engagement photos, according to this renowned event planner.
Ebony reaches for the door to the billiard room, but before she opens it, I rest my hand on the small of her back, giving a small, wide-eyed head shake, wordlessly warning her that it’s under construction and likely not the best area to show Cornelia our progress so far.
“U-uh,” she stammers, her smile faltering for a moment as our eyes connect. “Let’s, uh, keep going…toward my favorite space.” She forces the words out, improvising as if she too felt the electric jolt between us.
Whoa.
It was only an instant, but my pulse is racing.
Ebony stalls outside the double doors of the ballroom. It’s barely noticeable, but her hand trembles as she presses it to her chest, as if she’s trying to catch her breath. But like a pro, she snaps back, using that adrenaline to impress Cornelia and Hailey.
“We’re here,” she says, beaming.
Hailey’s eyes light up. “I’m so ready!” She squeals and bounces like she’s on springs.
I’m guessing it’s just the reaction Ebony was hoping for, because she clears her throat, her entire body snapping to attention as she smooths her expression. “The legend of the manor’s grand ballroom promises that if a couple shares their first dance beneath its crystal chandelier, their love will last forever.” She pauses, letting that tidbit hang in the air. “Before the building was condemned, many had come to test it, but none have disproven the magic.”
The bouncy squeals return in full force.
Hailey—and Ebony, it seems—are clearly believers.
“Now, please keep in mind,” Ebony continues, “we don’t have a ton of time until September twentieth—exactly one hundred days from today, according to my calendar countdown.” When she says this, her eyes sparkle and the inflection in her voice rises just so. It’s really thoughtful how she makes even a random Thursday in June feel like a milestone. “And Mr. Bridges and his team are in the midst of preserving some of the structural integrity of the space, but…”
Then she opens the doors, and…I cringe.
It looks like a giant monster swallowed a lumberyard then decided to cough up a DIY project.
Honestly, it’s an embarrassing letdown, seeing the space in this state after all the buildup. The wooden floors are in need of sanding, restaining, and lacquering, so there are stacks of reclaimed wood strewn everywhere. The gold leaf on the gilded wall panels is peeling, the ornate plasterwork needs work, and the color of the stained-glass windows has faded with time. All of it’s in progress, but about the only saving graceisthe nineteenth-century chandelier.
Naturally, Cornelia ignores Ebony’s forewarning. She’s got all the questions. What’s our construction timeline? Do I have an updated layout or rendering of how it’ll look once it’s finished? Will the bathroom facilities be fully operational? Is my team available to answer these questions?
Yes, where is my crew?
Ebony must not see the worry on my face.
“Uh, Linc?” She defers to me, like handling Cornelia is the simplest thing.
Oh, and what happened to Mr. Bridges?
Technically, this is where everything could’ve gone wrong.
But leave it to Ebony Grace, planner extraordinaire, to help Cornelia see the jewel amongst the junk.
“Yes, it’s hard to imagine now. But do me a favor. Close your eyes and picture this.” Then she inhales and smiles. “It’s dusk on a warm September day. A soft breeze carries the sweet, floral scent of magnolia blossoms.”
