Now I’m rooting for Yvette. “Yeah, keep digging, Yvette! Get in there, Azalea!”
My guys are in stitches.
I’m taking it all in stride, though. Cornelia’s got her just desserts coming.
“Yes, Lincoln Bridges,” Azalea interjects, prompting everyone to look at me. To which I take a well-deserved bow.
She’s saying something about Bridges Heritage Conservation and Ellswood’s familial roots, and I missed the first part of the sentence, but I turn back in time to catch Cornelia pursing her lips.
Undoubtedly, she’s hating giving me even a moment of exposure.
“It was a clear mistake on my part, hiring either of them, given how unprofessional they are. Who knows what unsavory acts they’ve committed on the premises? Honestly, it’s a disgrace to the other event planners I interviewed, who would’ve done a far superior job, and to the city of Ellswood.”
“I’m on the board,” Manny says, triumphantly, shoving half a skewer into his mouth. “Got my money on either a fight or fainting spell up next,” he adds, just as Cornelia uncrosses and recrosses her legs.
Looking straight into the camera, she tips up her chin. “I can assure you, we definitely won’t be using Ebony Grace Events for the next one.”
An audible gasp ricochets through the audience.
But Yvette is already tugging on the loose thread. “Next wedding?”
Cornelia gives a single, decisive nod.
“Wait for it!” Vincent is up on his feet, hands out, warning everyone to stay silent. “Is this it?”
One of my crew mumbles, “At this rate, I’m going to be bingo-ing in no time,” and then gets immediately shushed by Vincent.
The air crackles with electricity.
“That’s correct.” Cornelia blinks repeatedly, but I’m sure every single pair of eyes watching is focused on the tightness in Nora’s expression, screamingwhat are youabout to doas Cornelia fixes her lips and says, “Julian and Nora will be wed next summer.”
Oh shit.
Everyone goes wild, Vincent running laps around the yard, the audience in an excited uproar, and Nora Whitfield—OG Luxe Lady with an expensive bun in the oven—is shaken with tears.
I scrub a hand over my face, resting my palm over my mouth. “Wow.”
“I called it.” Ebony nudges my shoulder with hers, still shaking her head. “She literally admitted it to me at the bridal shower. The woman truly knows no limits to her dirty, underhanded work.”
Priscilla is gobsmacked. “I cannot believe she just did that.”
Azalea and Yvette share a loaded glance.
“Oh,wow!” Azalea is reading the distress all over Nora’s face. And still, she grins like the dang Cheshire cat. “Look at us getting the freshly brewed tea this morning.”
“And there’s more,” Ebony says at the same time as Cornelia on the screen, smiling smugly, before Cornelia announces that she’s recently requested for the mayor—an old friend of hers—to initiate a petition to change the city’s name from Ellswood to Livingston.
Suddenly, all the blaring noises, the shouting about wild-’n’-free spaces, and the audience booing her—they fade into silence, leaving me numb.
This isn’t new information. I’ve got friends on city council and in the mayor’s office. But hearing her say it so nonchalantly, that she’d erase my family’s history based on a completely fabricated smear campaign because of a grudge…
Jesus.
I’m dumbfounded, evenknowingit won’t pan out. Still, it’s the cue that we weren’t one hundred percent sure she’d deliver.
Ebony slips her hand in mine and squeezes, grounding me in the moment, reassuring me that we’re doing the right thing.
“Interesting.” Yvette tilts her head, her eyes lowered like she’s still turning the information over in her mind. She asks more questions about the petition, specifically Cornelia’s reasons for the proposed change when Ellswood has such a long history that’s so important to this community.
