Ex Factor, page 3
What did she think?
She had no idea, so she decided to lay the entire situation before Chelsea.
“Online dating?” her friend said when she’d walked over to her place to ask for advice. “Wow. I’ve never tried it, but some of my girlfriends met boyfriends and husbands that way.” She shrugged. “And a few use the site to find booty calls.”
“Booty calls? Seriously?”
“Hey, different strokes.”
Karen bit deeply into a lemon dream bar before saying, “Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m doing. I think I’m scared.”
“Honey, you book acrobats for weddings, you drag grooms to weddings on time, solve blended family conflicts that would baffle the entire Oprah/Dr. Phil team. I once saw you personally climb a tree to fix twinkle lights. While wearing four-inch heels. I think you can handle a cup of coffee with a CPA.”
“I guess you’re right.” She put a hand to her chest where her heart was beating rapidly.
Chelsea looked at her with concern. “You seem way more bent out of shape than seems appropriate for a coffee date. What’s going on?”
“Oh, Chelsea, it’s all such a mess,” she wailed and promptly shoved the last of the lemon dream into her mouth. Once she’d taken what comfort she could from the food, she told her friend everything, from her first meeting Dexter at a party, to their wedding, the marriage, the betrayal, to him coming back into her life. She ended with the kiss.
“Scumbag!” was Chelsea’s succinct response to the story. For which Karen was enormously grateful. “And now he thinks he can waltz into your business and try to get back in your pants? I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Getting out and dating new men is a fantastic idea. Really. Get your mind off your ex.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I am right. And you know what else you need?”
She thought of some of the other well-meaning advice Dee had dispensed from time to time. “Please don’t say sex toys.”
Chelsea grinned at her. “I am assuming that you have a good selection, as every woman should. But no, I was referring to a girls’ night out.”
“Oh, I would love that.” A night off from worries and stress with some of her female friends would be sooo good.
“Okay.” And as she saw Karen’s mouth open Chelsea stopped her, saying, “And, Ms. Planner Extraordinaire, this is one that I’ll be planning. You come and have a good time. That’s all. Got it?”
Impulsively, she hugged her. “Got it. Thanks.”
“WE’RE SEAHORSES,” the voice on the phone explained.
She really didn’t charge enough for this job. “Seahorses? Maybe you need an aquarium, not a wedding planner,” Karen said as gently as she could.
The young woman’s laugh was sudden and loud in her ear. “No, I mean me and Steve, the guy I’m marrying, we belong to the Seahorses Scuba Diving club.”
“Oh, okay, I get you.”
“You must have thought I was nuts,” the woman said, with another boisterous laugh.
Karen joined in, hahaha, without admitting she’d assumed the woman was certifiable. Or that she wouldn’t be the first crazy person who’d hoped If You Can Dream It was a company designed to make any hallucination come true.
“Before I waste both of our time in a meeting, I want to ask you if you could arrange an undersea wedding.”
“An undersea wedding, like The Little Mermaid?”
“I guess, sort of. See, we dive the wrecks off the Jersey shore and we were thinking it would be so cool to get married underwater.”
“Oh, wouldn’t it.” Karen rubbed her temple. Surely you couldn’t get a headache this fast. “Hard to cut the cake, though.”
More laughter greeted her. “I can see we’re going to get along fine. No, what I’m thinking is if we could rent a glass-bottomed boat for the guests and then me and Steve could get married underneath. We wouldn’t have thought of it, but we met a JP who also dives. He could perform the ceremony from the boat, and we’d be wired for sound. Instead of saying, ‘I do,’ we’d give the thumbs up sign. Isn’t that totally cool?”
“Oh, totally.”
“We want to get married next August. We need some ideas. We really want our wedding to stand out as something different.”
No problem there.
“So, will you do it?”
“Arrange a wedding on a glass-bottomed boat so two scuba divers can give a thumbs-up?” She shook her head. “Sure, why not?”
“Great, when can we come in to see you?”
She made an appointment for the scuba sweethearts, and then almost broke down and wept when her next appointment informed her that she wanted a completely traditional wedding. Church, flowers, white gown, bridesmaids, hotel reception, everything simple and staid and normal. How refreshing.
As she was finishing up the proposal, Sophie Vanderhooven called sounding excited. “I heard Melissa Stanhope got the most divine cake for her wedding this Saturday.”
“Yes, it’s lovely. Laurel, our cake maker has a real gift.”
“But Cinderella’s coach? That is such an amazing idea.” She now recalled that it was the Stanhopes who had recommended her services to the Vanderhoovens.
“Even better, the cake is made with pumpkin.”
“I know! She told me. Can I have something like that for my wedding?”
“Of course you can.” Did this woman not have any original ideas of her own? “Not the same cake, of course, because Laurel creates a unique design for every event, but you can give her guidelines.”
A sigh wafted over the phone. “Mother wants a traditional tiered cake complete with little plastic bride and groom on the top, but I want something more romantic, more me.”
“I’m sure we can find something that will make you and your mother both happy,” she said diplomatically.
“I hope so. Anyhow, I’ll see you Saturday.”
“Saturday?”
“At Melissa’s wedding.”
“Oh, of course. Though I’m not a guest. If I do my job right, you shouldn’t even notice me.”
Sophie laughed in her elegant way. “No one could miss you.”
Before she could ask what that was supposed to mean, in a polite way, the woman was gone.
Puzzled, she got up and walked to the front reception area. “Dee?”
Her assistant glanced up from matching the place cards to the Stanhopes’ master guest list. “Mmm-hmm?”
“Do I stand out in a crowd?”
Dee blinked at her. “You have Amy Adams’s face and hair and Marilyn Monroe’s body, and, I don’t know, a sort of commanding way about you. It’s what makes you a great wedding planner. Everyone scurries when you tell them to. So yes. Of course you’re noticeable.”
“Huh. Thought I was being so discreet.” She wandered back toward her office.
“Hey, speaking of discreet, when are you meeting that CPA?”
“We’re having coffee Sunday afternoon.”
“Brilliant. I can’t wait to hear about it on Monday.”
“What’s the weather forecast for tomorrow?”
Dee didn’t have to look, she’d already checked. “Low fifties, no precipitation expected.”
“Wonderful. A perfect day for a late fall wedding.”
And so it was, she realized when she rose the next morning. The day was dry, the sun was shining and there was no snow on the ground. After showering and doing her hair in a restrained bun, she slipped into a navy pencil skirt and white blouse, then pushed her feet into her high-heeled navy pumps. Discreet and professional, that’s how she thought a wedding planner should look.
Amy Adams indeed. Dee must be angling for a raise.
4
“WE CAN’T FIND the best man,” Mr. Stanhope hissed into Karen’s ear.
So far, everything for the Stanhope wedding had been going smoother than a chocolate milkshake. This was her first lump. “Has he answered his cell phone?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’ll get right on it. In the meantime, Mr. Stanhope, remember, you hired me to take care of problems. I’ll stall the bridal party.” Her calm manner and soothing smile had their desired effect. The father of the bride’s high color receded and he nodded, standing straighter in his tux.
“Glad to have you onboard.”
“We may need to call in a stand-in, but I promise, you’ll have a best man for your daughter’s wedding.
“Keep an eye on things out front,” she whispered to Dee, then, without any visible haste, she walked from the front of the church and out into the parking lot. Guests were still arriving but the bridal party was scheduled to pull up in fifteen minutes.
She slipped into her car and reached for the Stanhope wedding binder. In it was all the information she could possibly need, including home and cell numbers for the missing man.
She called both and was invited twice to leave a message. Which she did. Not good.
She then called the driver of the limousine bringing the bridal party to the church and asked him to take a detour. “I need five extra minutes.”
“No problem.”
Having stalled the bride, she left her car and slipped into the church through a side entrance. She knew her way around most of the churches and synagogues of the city. She made her way to the anteroom where the groom and his party would be waiting.
The groom looked a little pale, but steady. He glanced up when she entered. “I’m going to kill Brian. He promised he’d be here.”
“Does he have issues with punctuality?”
“Not usually.”
Her cell phone rang. “Ah.” Sure enough, it was the best man. “Flat tire,” he panted. “I went to change it, but that is my spare.”
“Where are you?”
He named a location that was a good five minutes away. “Are you dressed to go?”
“Yep.”
“All right. I’ll come and get you.”
She turned to the groom. “Appoint a stand-in just in case.”
“But the ring?”
She slipped a plain gold band from her right hand. “I always carry a spare.” Then she smiled at him. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
She sprinted to her car and made her way out of the parking lot, now quieting as most of the guests had arrived. She was in time to see Sophie Vanderhooven step out of a Lincoln, Dexter behind her. She supposed she should have known Sophie would bring a stand-in for her fiancé who was still working in Italy.
Since she felt it would be rude to drive by a paying client, she drew to a stop and rolled down her window. The autumn day was crisp and cold and tonight the temperature was forecast to dip.
“You look lovely, Sophie,” she said. The blue woolen suit was both stylish and classic, rather like Sophie herself.
“Thanks. I can’t wait to see Melissa get married.”
“Do you drive away before all the ceremonies?” Dex asked her.
Now that he’d addressed her directly, she had to look at him and nothing in the world could stop the warm blush that heated her cheeks as their little tussle in her office roared back to her.
She forced a smile, though no one could have called it cool. “Of course not. Just a little wedding business to take care of. I’ll see you later.” And with a wave of her hand she drove past.
DEX SQUINTED as he turned to watch Karen drive away. He’d made her blush. Good. It was a start.
“What’s going on, Dex?”
He turned back to his date. “What do you mean?”
Sophie scanned his face. “I’m not sure, but you were looking at Karen the way—well, the way Andrew looks at me. I guess that’s why I recognized the expression.”
“She’s a very attractive woman.”
“And she was blushing.” She grabbed his hand and began walking toward the church. “And there’s this sort of energy field when you two are together. I noticed it when we first met her. I wasn’t born yesterday, Dex. Something’s up with you two. What is it?”
The slim hand in his was friendly, but firm. He suspected he wouldn’t get away with anything but the truth. “You’re pretty smart for a socialite.”
“I know. And I smell a delicious secret. Come on, spill. I won’t tell anyone.”
“I’ve never yet met a woman who didn’t break that promise.”
The patrician nose wrinkled. “Can I tell Andrew if it’s good?”
Andrew was the son of a famous wine-making family in Italy. He’d hired Dexter’s firm to renovate the family’s Park Avenue town house and during the project, the two had become friends. They played squash, moved in similar social circles and, instead of dropping him when Andrew and Sophie got engaged, the couple had tried setting him up with a series of single women.
They knew he’d been married before, but he’d never offered them much in the way of details. Hadn’t thought it would matter. Now, he knew that his past did matter.
The past had just caught up with him.
“The truth is that Karen and I used to be married.”
If he was into shocking people he’d have been gratified by the way Sophie’s mouth fell open so far he could see all her expensive dental work. He’d never seen a mouth with such perfectly straight molars.
When she’d recovered enough to close her mouth, she said, “But I don’t get it. Why? What?” She heaved a sigh. “What’s your plan?”
The pavement seemed to tick under Sophie’s heels, sounding like a clock counting seconds. “I don’t know. Honestly, I didn’t have a plan. Don’t have one. I thought it would be cool to surprise Karen, but—”
“The force field got to you.” She shook her head. “That is some powerful chemistry between you two.”
She was right. The moment Karen had stepped out of her office and he’d seen her again, he’d known that what they’d had wasn’t over. Not for him. “Yeah.”
“So, what happened between you two?”
“We should go in.”
“That’s Melissa’s dad over there looking all stressed. Means the bridal party isn’t here yet. We’ve got some time.” She hauled him around the side of the church. “Spill.”
The story was so stupid he felt foolish even repeating it. “This drunk woman came onto me at a party and Karen flipped out. She got it in her head that I was cheating on her.”
Cool blue eyes stared into his. “Were you?”
“No. I never would have done anything like that to Karen. I loved my wife.”
“Then why would she think it?”
He leaned his back against the brick wall. It seemed sturdy, solid, the way a good marriage should be. “I’ve spent a lot of time asking myself the same question.”
“How badly was the drunk woman coming onto you?”
“Oh, it was bad. She was undressing herself, trying to undress me. When Karen walked in on us she was plastered to me, and I was trying to stop her unzipping me. Must have looked to Karen like we were in a big hurry, both trying to get me unzipped.” He’d never really looked at it from her point of view before. He’d been too busy being pissed that she didn’t believe him.
“Wow. That sucks.”
“I know.”
“Did you go for counseling?”
“The only counselor she wanted was the kind in a lawyer’s office. She started divorce proceedings right after she threw me out of the house.”
“Why would she end a marriage without even fighting for it?”
Leaning against the brick of that old church he felt like a little of the wisdom of the aged building was seeping into him. “Her dad really ran around on her mom. For years, with a lot of different women, until her mom finally divorced the jerk. Maybe, on some level, Karen expects a husband to be unfaithful.”
“Then you’re going to have to figure out how to convince her that some husbands can love a woman faithfully. And that you are one of them.”
“We’re already divorced. Why would I do that?”
When she shook her head at him, the sun struck her pale blond hair, giving him the impression of a halo. “No wonder you never looked twice at any of those women I introduced you to.” She patted his shoulder. “You, my friend, are still in love with your wife.”
KAREN FOUND the best man without trouble. He was the only guy in a tux standing on the freeway looking miserable.
She pulled over. “Hop in,” she said. Then, before pulling back into traffic, she made contact with her limo driver. “Where are you?”
“Five minutes away.”
“Make it ten.”
“You got it.”
She delivered a very grateful best man to an equally grateful groom and breathed a sigh of relief. Then she dashed to the front of the church to welcome the bridal party. As she’d suspected, they had no idea they’d been stalled.
The bride was as radiant as could be hoped, and after escorting her and the bridesmaids to where her father waited, adjusting her veil and reminding everyone to take a deep breath and smile, to remember to savor the walk down the aisle, she slipped inside to give the organist the heads up.
As the strains of “Here Comes the Bride” boomed through the church, everyone rose. In her head she heard her own personal musical mash-up, the wedding march overlaid with her own version of “Another One Bites the Dust.”
Once the wedding was underway, she eased back out of the church and called Chelsea who was already preparing food for the reception. “Heads up. We’re running behind about fifteen minutes.”
“’Kay, thanks.” And the woman was gone.
She then drove to the mansion where the reception was being held. The kitchen was a hive of organized chaos. Chelsea overseeing the sit-down dinner for one hundred and fifty that would take place as soon as the guests arrived.
She walked into the huge ballroom-turned-dining room and was filled with pleasure. It looked beautiful. They’d gone with autumnal colors and the burgundies and golds and greens looked lovely against the rich mahogany wainscoting in the room. Real fires already burned in the two fireplaces and bouquets of autumn leaves, artfully arranged to look casual and natural adorned the space. Fat candles waited to be lit, the crystal shone, the cutlery glittered, and Cinderella’s confectionary coach lent a whimsical touch.
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