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before you start…
I’msoexcitedtobekickingofftheBennettBrothersBridal serieswithLincolnandEvie’sstory, BRIDEANDTESTEDandIhopeyoulovethemasmuchasIdo.
Youmayhavealreadyreadmyfreeprequel,ALONGFORTHEBRIDE,butifyouhaven’t,Ihighly recommendit.
Youcandownloadyour copyhere.
Happyreading!
IS MOVING outoftowntoodrastic after the mostmortifyingencounter ofmylife? Judgingbythe waymyface still flames everytime Ithinkofit, I’d sayno. I’ve always wanted to live inCalifornia for a while. I could do weddings for the stars! Or maybe I’ll find a resort inthe Bahamas inneed of anon-site weddingplanner? Better yet, a cruise. No permanentaddress means Lincolncan’ttrackme down.
To be clear, I am not in hiding from my ex-husband. Our marriage imploded, yes, but it was mostly from neglect and immaturity, not anything requiring witness protection level scheming. Lincoln’s a decent guy and I never stopped liking himas a person. My subconscious obviously still findshimattractiveenoughfor himtobestarringinmysexdreams.
Afact he now knows after he heard me blurt it out to mybest friend, Mika. Inmydefense, I was flustered byboththe sexdreamand the fact it’s Lincolnwho finallywoke up mylibido but it’s a small consolation.
As for Mika,well…she’s hada ringside seattoall ofmyhighs andlows,soofcourse myinstinct wastocall her for advice.Ifanyoneisgoingtobehonestabouthow tohandleasexdreamaboutyour ex, it’s my ride-or-die best friend. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the benefit of Mika’s wisdom before collidingwithLincolnonthesidewalk.
Whoheardeverywordofmyso-calledconfession.
Just thinking of the moment again, my face flushes like I’m in the throes of menopause. I’m technicallytoo young for hot flashes, but I’mold enoughto own mymistakes. Yet here I am. Hiding out inmyoffice at Bennett’s Bridal, tensingeverytime the bell sounds at the front door. All because Lincolnwas atthe wrongplace atthe righttime, lookingdamnpleased aboutwhathe overheard. Too pleased, consideringwe’ve beendivorced for four years. Unless seeingeachother againhas sparked thesamereactioninhimithasinme?
Is that possible? I mean, he did lookawfullyentertained, but there was more to his grinthanjust amusement. Ithink. Iknow Lincoln his expressions, his smiles, his bodylanguage. Or atleastIdid. Hecan’thavechangedthatmuchinfour years?Canhe?
“Evie, your ten o’clock is here?” Shanna, my assistant, pokes her head in and gives me a smile.
“BrookeBaker?Her weddingisinAugustandshe’sinterestedinthefull servicepackage.”
Full service is Bennett Bridal’s bread and butter and the fact it doesn’t make me jump up in anticipation is testament to how far into my own head I’ve let myself get in the past hour. I need to focusonmybridesandmybusiness,notLincolnBennett.
Inod atShanna and shuffle the papers onmydesk. Shanna’s notone to judge, butIdon’tneed her toknow I’vebeensittingherestaringatthewall for thepastfortyminutes either.“Great.I’ll beoutin aminute.Anyinitial impressions?”
“Well,”Shannabitesher lip.“Sheseems,um,intense?”
“Whatdoyoumeanexactly?”
“She’s sipping a green smoothie and the first thing she did when she came in was call her assistant to remind her she’d be unavailable for the next hour.” Shanna offers a tentative smile. “She comesacrosslikeshe’sahigh-poweredwomanandshewantseveryonetoknow it.”
“Okay, I can work with intense.” I like nothing better than a bride who knows what she wants. Even though we’re in commuting distance of Rochester, you don’t see many executives in the small townofEnita Springs. Butmaybe Brooke is a New YorkCitytransplantwho moved upstate and isn’t quite ready to trade her green smoothie for a milk and honey coffee from Molly’s Café down the street.Ittakesawhiletorealizethere’snoshameinslowingdown.Sometimestoacrawl.
Although after ten minutes with Brooke, it’s clear she’s not quite the no-nonsense business executive she appears to be. Her dark hair is pulled up in a high ponytail and her mocha skin is as flawless as the black Stella McCartney dress she wears. A fact I know only because she told me. Twice. The thing she hasn’t told me? How many people are in her wedding party. What style of weddingshe’s lookingfor. What her budget is. I’ve asked her all of those questions, but she doesn’t know.Ifnotfor therockonher finger,I’dwonder ifshewaseventhebride.
“I hate florals.” Brooke looks around myshop, whichis decorated inshades of pink, creamand grayandadds,“Andpink.”
“No problem. Neither of those are mandatory.” I make a note on the bridal intake formI use to start everyfile. It’s a simple one-pager I developed whenI first opened Bennett’s Bridal and it still works six years later. “Any thoughts about what you do like? Have you thought about your dress or venueor evenwhether youwantanafternoonor eveningreception?”
“Mymother is insistingIgetmarriedhere,youknow.Iwantedanislandwedding.”Brooke’s tone isflatasshesaysthis.
Okay, So not only is she indecisive with a side of disinterested, but it sounds like her mom is calling the shots because she controls the purse strings. I wonder if her mother sent her here. It wouldn’t be the first time. I keep myexpressionneutral as I say, “We don’t have the Caribbeanas a backdrop,butI’mconfidentwecanputtogether apackageyou’ll findjustaslovely.”
“Mmmm.”Brooke’stoneisnoncommittal.
“Maybe you can give me an idea of what’s important to you about your big day? Don’t get me
wrong, it’s all important, but some couples really want to get married in a church, for example. Or some brides really want to wear a family gown.” I think this last one is a stretch, but I might be wrong.MaybeBrookehasahiddensentimental streak.
“Idon’tcareaboutgettingmarriedinachurchandthere’snofamilygown.”Brookehasaneyeroll in her tone but she resists actually doing it. “My fiancé is a pediatric surgical resident at Strong Memorial in Rochester. We’ll be inviting his colleagues and his attending, so it needs to be worth their time.”
“Ofcourse.” Ido mybestto keep myexpressionbland as Iwrite a small “Z” inthe corner ofmy form. It’s mypersonal shorthand for bridezilla and Brooke Baker has potential to be the worst kind. I’mwillingtoreservefinal judgement,butall thesignsarethereandforewarnedisforearmed.
“I’ll lookatdresses once Ichoose a venue, but “ Brookglances around myshop. “SayIwanted toorder somethinginfromthecity?Iassumeyoucanaccommodateordersfromother shops?”
“Yes, of course. We order gowns in all the time. If there’s a designer you have in mind, I can reachout.WeoftengetsamplesinandIcancertainlyrequestonyour behalf.”
“Thatmaybeuseful.”Brookenods.“Whatelse?”
Um, everything? We’ve been talking for fifteen minutes and I still have no idea what Brooke wants. Her onlyconcernseems to be impressingher fiancé’s colleagues. Myinitial meetings usually last an hour minimum, but judging by the way Brooke is twirling her engagement ring on her finger, she’sreadytobolt.
Isay, “There are a lotofdifferentthings to consider. Maybe the bestthingto do is for me to give you a couple of books to look through so you get a better sense of what your options are regarding venue.Itsounds likeyour decisionaboutyour dress will dependonthevenue,andobviouslycatering will aswell.”
“Great.I’ll lookitover andgetbacktoyou.”Brookepushesbackher chair andstands. She’s left me no choice but to do the same. I give her one of the several books Shanna compiled withour mostpopular venuechoicesandwaveher onher way.
Shanna waits until the door closes firmly behind Brooke to say, “Wow. Twenty-three minutes mightbeanew record.”
“Isthathow longshewashere?”
“Yep.Starttofinish.”
Damn. Ilookatmywatchand it’s only10:23. Brooke Baker is officiallythe shortestappointment I’ve ever had.Butatleastitwas twenty-three minutes Ididn’tthinkaboutLincoln.Ieventemporarily forgotaboutthismorning’sfiasco.
Althoughnow I’ve remembered itagainand mychagrincomes rushingback. It’s notquite as bad asitwasbefore,butmyfacestill heats.WhenShannanotices,turningtomewithher eyebrowsraised and a questioninher eyes, Iquicklyshake myhead and say, “I’mgoingto go checkthe thermostat. It feelshotinheretome.ThenwecangetSophieGreen’sdressoutfor her fitting?”
I don’t wait for Shanna’s reply, heading towards the back of the shop where the thermostat is. I know it’s setatsixty-nine like italways is, butitgives me a minute to recover mysenses. Until Ican getLincolnoutofmyhead,I’mgoingtoneedeverysecondIcanget.
HANGRY? Check.
Miredinthoughtsofmyex-wife?Doublecheck.
Frustratedatmyyoungestbrother,Eli,sprawledonthesofascrollinghisphone,hisdirtysneakers proppedonmybook?
Triple.Fucking.Check.
I’mtempted take mymood out onEli, but there’s a chance I’d end up goadinghiminto anactual fight and I’m annoyed, not stupid. He’s got inches and muscle on me if it turns physical, and a tendencytoholdagrudgeifitdoesn’t.We’relivingunder thesamerooffor theforeseeablefutureand IsworeI’ddomybestnottogoall Type-Aonhim.
But, Jesus, you don’t have to be Type A to keep your shoes off someone else’s stuff. I take my booktobedwithme.GodknowsI’mnottakinganythingor anyoneelsetobedwithmethesedays…
Sexuallyfrustrated? Another checkfor myever-growinglist, althoughI’ve beenfeelingthat way for awhile.Evie’snottheonlyonehavingsexdreamsthesedays.
If I don’t stop thinkingabout myruninwithmyex-wife this morningI’mgoingto lose mydamn mind. It’s bad enoughI’ve beenthinkingof her at all, but add inthe visionof Evie’s face lost inthe throesofpleasureand,yeah,it’snowonder I’mfeelinglikeaballooncaughtinthepower lines.
I hear tires crunching the gravel outside and my stomach cartwheels in anticipation. Me and my moodneedittobethepizzaIordered.
It’snot,butitisthenextbestthing.
"Sorry I'm late, but I made cheese scones," Gage says, letting the screen door slam shut as he placesthetinfoil-coveredplatedowninthemiddleofthedarkwoodencoffeetablewhichstill hasan Ecarvedinthetop,complimentsofEli whenhewaseight.
I let out a grunt in an attempt to sound annoyed, but I can’t be mad when my middle brother's broughthomemadescones andthefirstreal foodI'vehadall day.Ifyoudon'tcounttheSnickers and Gatorade Ipicked up atthe FlyingJ alongSeneca Lake onmywaybackfrommymeetingwithDad’s physical therapist.WhichIdon't.Ihatejunkfood.AndIhatetruckstopsandwichesmore.
After he shrugs off his coat and tosses it onthe coat rackbythe door, Gage takes the foil off the
sturdywhiteplateandIgrabascone,inhalingitinaboutthreebites.
"You could sell these at your stall on Saturdays when the farmer’s market starts back up in a coupleofweeks,"Isaythroughamouthful ofcrumbs.
"And miss out on you eating themlike it's your last supper?" Gage rolls his eyes and shakes his headatme,eventhoughhe'susedtomebynow.
"Itisasighttobehold,"saysEli,whofinallyputshisfeetonthedamnfloor wheretheybelong. My mother would roll in her grave at the way Eli treats her furniture, although she would never say anything because she loved nothing better than having all of her boys together. She always said her happiestmoments were whenall the Bennettboys were around her kitchentable. Mydad used to sayhis happiestmoments were whenall the Bennettboys moved outand he didn’thave to feed them everyday,butthetruthis,hewashappyifmomwashappy.
It’s weird being here at my parents’ house, now Eli’s place and mine, for the time being –withoutthem, havinga familypow wow. Mom’s beengone for sevenyears, butIstill keep expecting Dad to come out of the bathroom and settle himself in his old rocking chair with a groan and a complaintabouthisknee.
“How’sDad?”asksEli.“Anyprogress?”
“He’s notworse, buthis leftfootis still basicallyuseless and drags whenhe walks, and he can’t button anything because his left hand is too stiff. He can pick things up, but he doesn’t have any dexterity back yet.” I say through another bite of scone. “The OT says he’s being a pain in the ass. Apparentlyhethrew hisforkacrosstheroomlastnightbecausehecouldn’tcuthischicken.”
“Atleastitwasn’thisknife,”Eli says.
“Onlybecause one ofthe orderlies grabbed his hand before he could.” Ishake myhead. “Rookie mistakenottograbbothhands,butthestrokehasmadehimlooklikeafrail oldman.”
“Frail old man, myass,” Gage says. “He should wear a warninglabel – objects inthe mirror are crankier thantheyappear.”
“I know.” I feel a smile creep across myface. Those scones are hittingmybloodstreamand I’m startingfeel humanagain. “Italked to himaboutcontrollinghis temper and tryingto workthroughhis frustration instead of giving in to it. He told me to get the fuck out and come back when I wasn’t talkingtohimlikeawhite-collar asswipe.”
“Ha.”Gagebarksoutalaugh.“Sohisspiritsaregood?”
“Tobefair,you’reannoyingasfuckwhenyougetall upyour ownassinyour CEOpsychobabble, sohehasapoint,”Eli says.
“Oldhabits arehardtobreak.”Mybrothers areribbingme,butthey’renotwrong.Ispentthepast fifteen years climbing the corporate ladder of one of the biggest management consulting firms in the country. I started right out of college and never looked back. Hell, I’d probably still be there if it weren’tfor Dad.Andsuddenlyrealizing,atthirty-eight,maybeIshouldworktoliveinsteadofliveto work.
Better latethannever,right?
“Didyoutalktothemaboutthephysical therapyatall?”Gageasks.
“Mrs. Pappadopolis said they’re doing what they can to get more sessions approved through insurance, but they can’t get blood froma stone. Dad has basic medical insurance. It doesn’t cover this level ofcare.” I’mstill pissed aboutthis, evenmonths after learningabouthow precarious Dad’s financial situation really is. If he’d told me, we could have planned, invested the money he made when he sold his hardware store, taken out long-termhealth insurance something. Instead, me and mybrothersarelookingatamountainofmedical billswithnoviablewaytopaythem.
Sure, I have the payout I got frommyfirmbeingacquired, and it’s generous since I had so many years there.Butit’s notenough.Gage says he’ll contribute the extra he makes fromhis weeklystall at the farmer’s market once it’s going for the season. But if we’re lucky he’ll make a couple hundred bucks, maybe more in the summer when the tourists are around. And Eli’s stretched thin already betweenchildsupportandnormal livingexpenses.Inother words,we’refucked.
But…
“Ihad anidea the other day,” Isay, pickingup another cheese scone. Ineed the energy, yes, butI also need the distraction because I’ve been trying to figure out how to bring this up and I’ve got nothing.DivingintoitisthebestideaI’vegotandevenIthinkit’sshit.
“What’syour idea?”Eli saysslowly.
“Bennett’s Bridal is looking for a partner.” I take a bite of the scone to let the words sink in. Jesus, these things are so good theyalmostmake me forgetwhatI’msuggesting. Althoughthey’re not quite goodenoughtomake me forgetthe ulterior motives behindit,butIhave a feelingnothingwould helpmeforgetmysuddenawarenessofmyex-wife.
“Bennett’sBridal asinyour ex-wife’sbusiness?”Gageasks,hisbrowneyeswidening.
Inod,butbefore Icanrespond,Eli says,“You’re consideringgoingintobusiness withthe woman you’vecalledEvil for thepastfour years?Whythehell wouldyoudothat?”
“Because Evie,” I pause and give both of my brothers a pointed look. “Has a very successful businessandapartnershipmeansasteadyenoughincometomakeadentinDad’sbills.”
“Youwantto be a weddingplanner?” Gage’s brow is so wrinkled Icould probablylose a penin there.
“Not really, but I thinkI could be.” All those years of placatingCEO’s egos have to be good for something, and, my feelings for Evie aside, it’s the best option. It’s not like upstate New York is a hotbedoflucrativeopportunities.Rightnow,thebestjobinEnitaSpringsisaweekendbusboyatthe local winery, which probably doesn’t pay enough to fill the gas tank in my truck for a week. The Finger Lakesregionisgorgeousbutit’snotwherefortunesaremade.
“How do you know about this?” Eli asks. “Because I don’t see Evil Evie texting you the detailsandinvitingyoutobid.”
Well, no. She wouldn’t. ButI’ve
weeks. And I might have a Google alert set up onher name and the companyname. It sounds worse than it is. Or maybe having a Google alert set up on your ex-wife is exactly as bad as it sounds. I don’t know. I like to know how she is, and it’s not like I can call her to ask. After four years of marriage, we divorced throughour lawyers and the US Postal Service. Itwas a mutual decisionfrom alegal perspective,butIbroughtuptheD-wordfirst.
Whichcouldmakegoingintobusiness together tricky,evenbeforethis morning’s fauxpas.Except Ireadher requestfor proposalsand,unlessshe’s advertisingitonsomesiteIdon’tknow about,she’s gotten very little interest. She’s run a display ad four Sundays in a row and you don’t pay for an ad unlessyou’rehopingfor better thanwhatyou’vegottensofar.
“She’s gotanad running,” Isay. “The thingis, itwill meanputtingup the cashIgotfrommybuyout.It’sashort-terminvestmentfor along-termgain.”
“What’stheprojectedprofit?”Gageasks.
“Bennett’s Bridal cleared three hundred thousand last year. Assuming Evie put a third back into her business,whichwouldbeaheftypercentage,shestill tookasalaryofover twohundredthousand. Ifshe’s lookingfor a partner, Iassume she wants to either expand her business or double her money. Or both.”
“Shit.”Eli letsoutalow whistle.“I’minthewrongdamnbusiness.”
“Same,” says Gage. Then he nods and says to me, “But how are you going to talk your ex-wife intoacceptingyour proposal,never mindchoosingyouasher partner?”
“Hey,shediditonce,right?”Ilaughinanattempttoskateover thequestionbecauseIdon’tknow how I’mgoingtodoiteither.
“Yeah,andlookhow your lastso-calledpartnershipendedup.”Eli rolls his eyes.“Shehates you, dude.”
But the thing is, I don’t think she does. Not if our run-in at the coffee shop was any indication. I mean, maybe she hates me a little after the dickmove Ipulled this morning, butIcertainlydon’thate her. I never have. I think we just stopped paying attention. But we were good together once, and I thinkwecanbegoodtogether again evenifit’sonlyasbusinesspartners.
Convincingher mightbeawholedifferentthing,butI’vegotnothingtolose.
“Well, to start with I’m going to write a solid proposal.” I glance at Gage. “And dropping off someofyour lemonbarsfor her couldn’thurt.She’salwayslovedthose.”
“Comingrightup,boss.”Gagegivesmeamocksalute.
“Your plan is to woo her with baked goods? What if it doesn’t work?” Eli asks. “What are we goingtodothen?”
There’sthemillion-dollar question.
“I don’t know. I guess if we have to, we’ll think of a Plan B.” Although the truth is, short of winning the lottery, there is no Plan B. I hear the crunch of wheels on the drive and for the second time today, it saves me from having to delve too deep. “Pizza’s here. Who’s helping me write this
thing?”
“I’m out,” says Eli. “I’ve got an ice cream date with Izzy. I promised her chocolate chip with sprinkles.Ashleyhasadate.”
Izzyis Eli’s six-year-olddaughter.His ex-girlfriend,Ashley,treats Eli as ababysitter insteadofa half-custody parent, which drives himcrazy. Whenever she has plans, she makes a point to act like Eli’s doing her a big favor if he “watches” Izzy. Of course, on Eli’s scheduled days, she’s flaky as hell,whichIsayispassive-aggressiveonher part.IalsothinkEli shouldgethislawyer involved,but it’snotmydecision.Regardless,Ican’taskhimtobail onhiskid.
“I guess it’s you and me. You want to put together a draft while I get the lemon bars going?” Gage’sgazeshootsfrommetoEli.“Isthereanyconfectioner’ssugar aroundhere?”
Eli and I glance at each other and shrug. “Not sure, but if there is, it’s probably left over from whenMomwasaround.”
Gagegrimacesandshakeshishead.“Momdiedsevenyearsago.Itrytoonlyusethingsfiveyears or lesspasttheir best-bydate.”
“Don’tworryaboutit.Goonhome.All your bakingstuffis there anyway,” Isay.Gage lives inan apartment about tenminutes away. It’s above someone’s garage and cold as hell inthe winter, but he lives there for the kitchenwithall the bells and whistles. Apparentlythe owner’s sonwanted to be a chef, so the owner installed a state-of-the-art kitchenso the soncould cookup a storm. I’mnot sure where the sonis now, butGage has waxed lyrical over the ovenalone more times thanIcancount. “I can’tgive Evie a half-ass versionofher favorite Gage Bennettconfection. I’d rather give her nothing atall.”
“Soyou’resayingIshouldn’tsubsaltfor sugar?”Gagesmirks. “Nope.”
Thedoorbell ringsandthepizzaguycallsout,“Deliveryfor Bennett.” “Righthere. Justa second.” Ipull the door openand sayto mybrothers, “Gentlemen, I’ll see you later.”
“How aboutaslicefor theroad?”asksEli ashepusheshimselftohisfeet.
“I’ll saveyouoneifthereareleftovers,”Isay.
“Lame,”saysGage,buthegrabshiscoatandwalksoutthedoor,givingthepizzaguyanod.
Eli follows and I dig cash out of my wallet. The pizza delivery driver’s not even out of the drivewaybeforeI’vedownedmyfirstslice.IdroptheboxonthecoffeetablebesidethesconesGage leftandpull outmyphonetore-readthespecEviewrotefor her partner position.
I re-read it until I canhear it inher voice and picture her face as she says the words. Her green eyes would be bright, and her milliondollar smile would be atfull wattage. She’d be bubblingover, and she’d expectthe same froma prospective partner. Bubblingisn’treallymystyle I’mmore ofa slow simmer type ofguy butifI’mgoingto have a real shotatthis, I’mgoingto have to turnup the heat.
BEING DIVORCED LENDS
auniqueperspectivetotheweddingbusiness.
The bride wants to blow the budgetona seven-course sit-downmeal and a band fromNew York City? OutwardlyIsmile and nod, butinwardlyI’mcalculatinghow far the moneycould go towards a downpaymentonahouse.
Itcangoalongway,andhouseslast.Marriages? Pfft.
“Just because you and Lincoln crashed and burned doesn’t mean everyone will,” my best friend Mika says, raisingher glass ofPinotGrigio. Before she takes a sip she says, “Besides houses canbe justasoverratedasweddings.”
“Point taken, but this bride is ridiculous. And that’s sayingsomethingafter mymorningclient.” I reach for the half-bottle of wine in the silver ice bucket and pour myself another mouthful. I thought Brooke was a bridezilla, but my afternoon consultation beat her by a mile. “The band she wants to hire charges twentythousand dollars, plus travel. She canget a band fromIthaca at a fractionof the cost.”
“Okay,it’s a little over the top,butmaybe it’s a sentimental choice.” Mika grins.“Don’tbegrudge peopletheir elaborateplans.Itkeepsyouinbusiness.”
“Yes, it does.” I laugh and look around Einstein’s, the small restaurant where Mika and I have been having Wine Wednesday for the past God knows how many years. It’s nothing fancy dark woodentables, a few plants inthe windows and local artonthe walls butthe wine listis good and the food is evenbetter. The best partis Wednesdayis one oftheir slow nights and no one cares how longMika and Itake a table. We’re excellenttippers, whichmayalso be factor. “Are we gettingfood tonightor doyouhaveplans?”
“Dominic is cooking, so Isaid I’d be home byeight.” Mika gives me anapologetic lookover the top of her wine glass. Dominic is Mika’s on-again, off-again boyfriend. They’re more off than on lately, but he’s a hard habit to break. I know better than to say anything though. “But if you want something,goahead.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got leftovers at home.” They’re probably still edible. I don’t want to make Mika
feel guilty,soIdon’tsayitoutloud.It’snother faultshehasaguywillingtocookfor her andIdon’t.
“Okay. Tell me aboutyour searchfor a business partner. Anybites? Do Ineed to find youa silent investor?”
Mika’s a corporate lawyer for a bigfirminRochester and I have no doubt she could find me an investor ifIaskedher to.
“I don’t want to go with a corporate investor on this. Maybe it’s stupid, but I want to bring someoneintothebusinessinatruepartnership.Notinalet’s-braid-each-other’s-hair kindofway,but someonewhowantstobegenuinelyinvolvedandnotjustthrow moneyatme.”
“For the record, I say if someone wants to throw money at you, take it.” Mika grins, then her expression turns serious. “But I get it. Bennett’s Bridal is your baby. You want someone who will nurtureit.”
“No one’s going to feel the same way I do about it. I’m hopeful, not naive.” I shrug. “But I’m hopingI get luckyand get someone who’s got their ownreasons whytheywant to see this grow and succeedandwill dowhatittakestomakeBennett’sBridal thebestitcanbe.”
“So?How areyour candidatessofar?”
“Variable.” Iallow myselfto letouta small sigh. “There are one or two who mightbe a good fit, butIhaven’thadagreatresponse,tobehonest.”
“Myoffer offindingyouasilentpartner isalwaysopen.”Mika’sdarkbrowneyesareearnestand she reaches a French-manicured hand towards mine onthe table. “But, youstill have a few days left until theendofthemonth,somaybeyou’ll getalate,greatcandidate.”
“I hope so.” If I don’t, it will mean turning away business. Technically, I know having too much business is a good problemto have, but it’s onlya matter oftime before someone else fills the gap I can’tandIstartlosingbusiness.Ihavetoomanyplanstostartfalteringnow.
“You know, you could always go the employee route. It would be easier than finding an actual partner,”Mikasays.
“I’ve thought about hiring an employee.” Endlessly, in fact. “Maybe I’ll end up going in that direction, but if I thinkabout expansionand everythingI want to do, I feel like I need someone who hasafinancial stakeinthebusinessandisn’tlookingtoclockoutatfive.”
“Imean,agoodemployeeisinvestedinthebusiness.Youcanfoster asenseofownershipwithout havingthis personboundtoyoufinancially.” Mika raises aneyebrow atme.“Iknow your accountant, don’tforget.Youdon’tneedthemoney.”
Myaccountantis one ofMika’s cousins. The firsttime she did mytaxes, she delivered myreturn back to me at Wine Wednesday, complete with a loud exclamation about how well I was doing. My earningsaren’tasecretandMika’spointisavalidone.Still,Isay,“IfI’mbeinghonest,money’sonly partofit. Iwantto expand another shop, more services and Idon’twantto do itonmyown. I’ve runBennett’sBridal singlehandedlysincethedayitopenedandI’mreadytoshareitwithsomeone.”
“Itotallyunderstand.Apartner givesyouafeelingofmoresecurity.”
"Exactly.”IsmilebecauseMika’s notwrong.Butshe’s notonehundredpercentrighteither.Yes,I want a sense of security, of knowing the person I bring into the business is invested in our success. But a bigger part of me wants to have someone to share the ups and down of the business with, someone to bounce ideas off, someone to make decisions with, someone to just…be there. Maybe there’sabitoflet’s-braid-each-other’s-hair inmywishlistafter all.
“Ipropose a toast.” Mika raises her lipstick-rimmed glass. “To findinganoutstandingpartner and crushingthisyear’sweddingseason.”
“I’ll always drinkto the success of mybusiness.” I raise myglass too and clinkit gentlyagainst hers.
“Therightpersonisgoingtocomethrough.Icantell.”
“Is this like the time you could tell Lincoln was going to propose? Because, although you were right, I’m hoping for a better outcome this time.” Preferably one which doesn’t involve getting my heartbroken.
“Hey, Lincoln wasn’t all bad. You ended up in Enita Springs, you met me and you got his last nameoutofthedeal for Bennett’sBridal.Thepower ofgoodalliterationcannotbeunderestimated.”
“Trueenough.”Ilaugh.
“Are we talking about him yet?” Mika asks, her voice softening. “Specifically, are we talking aboutwhathappenedthismorningbecauseIthinkweshould.”
Igiveasharpshakeofmyhead.“Definitelynot.”
Mika studies me for a longminute thennods, too. “Okay. I figured, but youknow I’mhere when youwanttoprocessthings.”
“I’m probably never going to want to process this.” I’d rather talk about a silent investor than whathappenedthismorningwithLincoln.Myfacefeelstendegreeshotter justthinkingaboutit.
“Okay, fine.” Mika nods againand thensays, “I’mjustgoingto pointoutyou’re bound to runinto himagain.EnitaSpringsisn’tbig.Doyouhaveaplanfor whenyoudo?”
Besidesturnandruntheother way?No.
ToMikaIsay,“Idon’tneedaplan.I’msureitwill befine.”
“Becauseyou’vedealtwithall thefeelingsseeinghimbroughtupor becauseyou’restill avoiding saidfeelings?”
“What’s there to deal with? I was embarrassed, whichis understandable.” And the time before I was so nervous I thought my chest was going to explode, but being nervous is perfectly normal. “Besides,it’sstupid.We’vebeendivorcedlonger thanweweremarried.”
“Justbecause time has passed doesn’tmeanyou’ve dealtwithyour feelings aboutthe end ofyour marriage.”
“Feelings, schmeelings. I’m avoiding them, and it’s working for me so far.” I take a sip of my wine.“JustlikeIplantoavoidLincoln.”
“YoutwowerethehappiestcoupleIknew,”Mikasayssoftly.
Myheartfeels like someone’s squeezingitandI’dwonder ifIwas havinga suddenheartattackif Ididn’trecognize itfor whatitis –nostalgia.“We were reallyhappy,as muchas itpains me toadmit it.”
“Whydoesitpainyoutoadmitit?Beinghappyisagoodthing.”
“Notwhenyousquander itlike we did.” Itake a deepbreath,hopingitwill helpmychestexpand again.
“You never saw him after you guys filed for divorce. It might be good for you to actually, you know, have a conversation with him about what happened.” Mika raises her glass to her lips and looksatmeover therim.“For closure.”
“I have the signed divorce papers, which is enough closure for me. Besides, I’m avoiding him, remember?”
“Hmmm.”Mikatakesasipofher winebutdoesn’tsayanythingelse.
She doesn’t need to. I know what she’s thinking, just like I know she’s wrong. I have zero intention of seeing Lincoln again if I can help it. If I do, I can always go with my unofficial plan to turnandruntheother wayandprayhedoesn’tseeme.
Becauseifhedoes,it’snotgoingtotakehimlongtorealizeIstill havefeelingsfor him.Deepand complicatedfeelings Ihave nobusiness having.Especiallyfor myex-husband.Addinthe real reason Ididn’tfightfor usand,well…avoidinghimismyonlychoice.
I SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT the lemonbars. I asked Gage to make them, thenpurposely leftthemsittingonmykitchencounter. Itfeltlike a good idea atthe time ifmyproposal came with Gage’s lemonbars, Evie would know it was mine ina heartbeat. Maybe without them, I’ll get a fair shot.
Or maybetheywouldhavesoftenedEvieupsoshe’datleastreadmydamnproposal.
I’mtempted to go back and get them, but I’mjust delaying the minute I have to walk through the door ofBennett’s Bridal.Thetruthis,I’mmorenervous deliveringmyproposal toEviethanIwas on myweddingday. I’msure there’s some kind ofironythere. Ipace onthe sidewalk, folder inhand, in frontofMolly’s Cafe, the coffee shop three doors downfromBennett’s Bridal until Molly, the owner comesout,wipingher handsonher apron.
“You okay out here, Lincoln?” she asks. “I swear you’re about to wear a hole right through the pavement.”
Molly’s atleastsixtyand, eventhoughshe’s lived inEnita Springs for as longas Icanremember, there’s still a Kentuckytwangto her words. She came northwhenshe gotmarried and, as she likes to say, “The marriage didn’t last, but the move did.” Molly’s Cafe is her pride and joy and even Gage agreesshe’sgotthebestbrowniesintown.
“I’mabout to deliver something down the street, and procrastinating to be honest.” I don’t dare tell Mollyaboutmyproposal.She’snotexactlyknownfor keepingsecrets.
“Well, youknow the bestwayto get over somethingis throughit.” She points to the folder inmy hand.“Theyhaven’tinventedflyingpaper yetthatIknow of.AlthoughIhear email ispopular now.” Idon’tmissthesarcasminher toneandIsmilealittle.“Youdon’tsay.I’ll havetolookintoit.”
Molly reaches out and swats me lightly on the arm. “Sure, Mr. Fancy Consultant, you want to mockanoldwoman?”
“I would never, ma’am.” I tip an imaginary hat and my smile is broad now. “You know my consultingdaysaredone.YouthinktheywouldhavekeptmeonifIlearnedtoemail?”
Mollyand Ibothlaughand she shakes her head. “LincolnBennett, you’re too clever for your own good.”
“Possibly.”Igrin.“How areyou?Haveyoubeenkeepingwell,Mol?”
“Every path has a few puddles, but no use complaining.” She nods once. “Now go do what you came down here to do and stop wearing out the sidewalk in front of my shop. You’ll put off the customers.”
“Icouldbeadraw.Younever know.”
“You’re pretty,butyoubrood.Always have.” Mollyraises aneyebrow atme.“DoIneedtopoint outtheobvioushere?”
Laughing, I put my hands up and say, “Guilty as charged. Okay, I’m going, but I’ll be in for a brownieandcoffeelater andyoucanfinishtellingmehow badIamfor business.”
“Ifyou’repaying,you’ll bebetter for businessthanyouarerightnow.”Mollysmilesandpullsthe door opentothecafe.“Seeyousoon,Lincoln.”
I shake my head and watch her head back in, stopping at a table to chat on her way back to the counter. Molly’s a good eggand Iowe her for helpingme getoutofmyhead for a few minutes. She’s right.Idobrood.Alwayshave.
But she’s also right. I could email this proposal and not even have to darken the doorstep of Bennett’s Bridal. Sure, it would be the chickenshit wayto deal withit and it would be missingthe sleekfolder Icollated everythingin, withcolored tabs, thankyouverymuch butmaybe itwould be better. Althoughif Evie wanted email proposals, she’d have put her email address inthe ad, not the addressofthebridal shop.
Inother words,Molly’sright.Ineedtostopprocrastinatingandjustgodeliver thedamnthing. Istride downthe sidewalk, mylonglegs coveringthe distance quickly, until I’mstandinginfront of Bennett’s Bridal. There’s a single gown on a headless mannequin and pale pink silk rose petals cover the floor ofthe platforminthe window. It’s understated and elegantand fits Evie’s philosophy aboutwindow displaysperfectly.
I always put up a dress I think will appeal to the mother of the bride, because the mother is often the one who’s going to get the bride in the door. If the bride chooses a black leather bustier and a red tulle skirt, so be it. But I’ve never had a bride who didn’t try on at least one dress to please her mom.
It’sasmartstrategy,anditmustworkbecauseEvie’sstill doingit.
I catch sight of my reflection in the window and push my dark hair back frommy forehead. I’m overduefor ahaircut,andImakeamental notetostopatthebarber shoponmywaybacktomytruck. Istraightenmypurpleandgraystripedtie,takeadeepbreathandpull openthedoor.
The receptionist,a womaninher earlytwenties,ifIhadtoguess,flicks her darkblonde hair over her shoulder asshelooksupandsmiles.“WelcometoBennett’sBridal.I’mShanna.MayIhelpyou?” “I’mdroppingsomethingofffor Ms.Bennett,”Isay,holdingoutthefolder.
“She’s here if you’d like to deliver it directly. I cancall her?” Shanna smiles wider and reaches for thephoneonthewhiteantiquetabledoublingasher receptiondesk.
“I’d rather not bother her.” I set the folder down on the table and take a big step back. “If you couldjustseeshegetsit,I’dappreciateit.”
“Areyousure?”Shannastands,her handonthereceiver ofthephonenow.“It’snotrouble.”
“Quite sure.” Igive Shanna one ofmyconsultingsmiles, butitfeels too forced and Itake another step backwards. Idon’twantto see Evie atall rightnow. To have her rejectmyproposal before she evenreadsit,or haveher rejectmebeforesheevenknowswhyI’mherewouldsting.
Isquashthethoughtlikeafireantunder myshoe.Thisisn’taboutme.Or Evie.It’saboutfindinga wayto payfor myfather’s medical care thatdoesn’tinvolve me beinggone for months ata time. The minuteIstartthinkingthisisbetweenmeandEvieistheminuteIneedtostartlookingintohow tosell akidneybecauseitwill belesspainful.
“Okay. I’ll make sure she gets it.” Shanna smiles again, but it’s more tentative this time. “Whom shall Isaydeliveredthis?”
“I’d rather you didn’t say, thank you.” I put on my most formal tone, betting it’s unapproachable enough so Shanna won’t insist. I’m tall and broad-shouldered and have been told I give off Secret Servicevibesinthissuit,minustheear piece,ofcourse.Usuallythisworksagainstme,butnotnow.
“Oh. Um, okay. Well, okay.” Shanna’s smile falters and Ifeel bad. Butnotbad enoughto give her myname.
“Thank you, Shanna. I appreciate your help.” I give a curt nod before I turn and pull open the door.
“Bye.” I hear Shanna’s voice call after me as I step onto the sidewalk, but I don’t turnaround or letmyshouldersdropuntil I’mwell pastthedisplaywindow.
God,ifI’mthisunnervedwalkingintoBennett’sBridal,whatamIgoingtobelikewhenI’mfaceto-face withEvie, herself? The phrase bumblingidiot comes to mind. I guess I canonlyhope Evie’s lookingfor thosequalitiesinabusinesspartner.
I pull my phone from my jacket pocket and send a message on the group chat to my brothers: Proposal delivered. Now we wait.
Gage sends me a thumbs up and Eli doesn’t respond, whichis no surprise. He’s a mechanic and he never touches his phone whenhe’s working. He’s got a special ringtone set up for me, Gage, and Izzyincase ofemergency, butotherwise, he’s offline until he’s done withhis shift. It’s nota bad way tolive.OneofthethingsIhatedabouttheconsultinglifewasbeingtiedtomyphone.
Of course, one of the biggest things I miss about my old life is having something to do all day. Gage’s working today, he’s a produce manager at the local supermarket, and I’mnot up for visiting Dad again so soon. I have a couple old high school buddies I could call, but chances are they’re workingtoo.
I stash my phone back in my pocket and continue down the sidewalk toward Molly’s Cafe. I promised Molly I’d be back for a brownie and coffee, so I’ll start there. At the very least, shooting theshitwithher for anhour will keepmefromcheckingmyphonefor aresponsefromEvie,right?
SHANNA PUT the proposal on my desk and I completely forgot about it in between meetings witha prospective bride and checkingouta new venue. Butnow I’mhome witha bagofpretzels and cream cheese dip masquerading as dinner, and I dig it out of my bag. Settling onto my deep blue velvetcouchwithmywhite weighted blanketto read throughit, Isinkdeep into the cushions like I’m snugglingintoacloud.
Before I openthe folder, I take a minute and runmyhands over the smoothfauxleather cover of the proposal. It speaks to my inner geek and I immediately think, three points for presentation, if I werekeepingtrackofpoints,whichIabsolutelyam.
I wanted the proposals inpaper formfor this exact reason. Aesthetics and appearance are keyin the bridal business and, although a cover on a proposal seems like a trivial detail, it can make a differenceinwhether wegetaclientor not,andinhow muchwecanupsell.Noteverybridewantsto bookatwenty-thousand-dollar band.For mostit’snotevenaconsideration.
Butatop-shelfbar is.
Wrap a top-shelf bar in a fancy package and it brings it the likelihood of “oh why not” a little closer.
Whomever submitted this proposal mightnotknow this, buttheydo understand the value ofgood aesthetics,whichisworthsomething.Idipapretzel increamcheeseandopenthefile.
The table ofcontents is clear and the colored tabs are another arrow rightto mynerdylittle heart. This personhas impressedme before I’ve evenreada word,andIdigmytoes intothe couchcushion inanticipation.MaybeI’vefoundmycandidate.
Iflip to the firstpage, expectinga cover letter, butinstead itstarts witha business analysis. Even though I know my own business, I’mimpressed at how well-researched the analysis is. Just as I’m impressed bythe restofthe proposal. This persondoesn’thave industryexperience they’re upfront about their lack of experience in the suggestions section but they seem to have a good business sense,whichisimportant.
I’m practically humming as I get to the final page and my sock-clad feet are dancing on the cushion, tapping back and forth in excitement. In my head I’m sing-songing, I think I’ve found my
person,andI’mmentallycomposingmythankGodtexttoMika.
ThenIturnthepage.
AndthebottomfallsoutofmystomachasIread:
Dear Evie:
I hope my submission is satisfactory, and I hope you don’t let the fact it’s my submission color your opinion. As you know, my business experience is extensive and I’m positive I could be an asset to you in taking Bennett’s Bridal to the next level I welcome the opportunity to speak with you further.
Sincerely,
LincolnfreakingBennett.HisnameblursasIstareathissignatureonthewhitepaper.
Whythe hell is LincolnBennettsubmittinga proposal to be a partner inmybusiness? And whyis myheart doinga weird flip-floppythingagainst mywill? Idon’t want to have a flip-floppyreaction toLincoln.Idon’twanttohaveanyreactiontoLincoln,especiallywhenitinvolvesmybusiness.
I dig my toes into my couch cushion and close my eyes, forcing myself to take a deep breath. It doesn’thelp.Mystomachis cartwheelinglike anOlympic gymnastis doingher floor routine inthere. Finally I give in and pick up my phone, praying Mika’s bored enough at her networking dinner to answer.
She answers onthe third ringand Idon’tevensayhello. “Lincolnsubmitted a proposal to be my businesspartner.”
“Wow.How,um,unexpected,”Mikasayswithalaugh.
“No kidding. The worst part is, it’s good. I was super excited about it until I got to the last page and realized it was him.” And then I was still excited, but in a totally different way. A way I will never admitoutloud.EventoMika.
“Atleasthewas smartenoughtokeepyoureadinguntil then.”ThebackgroundnoisebehindMika fadesandI’mguessingshe’ssteppedoutside.
I feel guiltyfor takingher awayfromher workevent, but not guiltyenoughto hangup yet. Mika has these networking events at least twice a month and I know for a fact she finds themdull as dirt. “The only other proposal even remotely close to Lincoln’s is from a woman named Maura who’s currentlyanofficemanager for ElginConstruction.Weddingsareher dream,shesays.”
Imake a face and Mika laughs onthe other end ofthe phone. “Atleastyouknow weddings aren’t Lincoln’sdream.”
Isnortouta laugh. Myweddingto Lincolnwas great, butitwasn’ta dreamweddingbyanyone’s definition, except ours, and I’m clearly biased. We planned it in six months and got married by a nondenominational minister we found on Facebook, with a reception in a huge tent at a local park.
Guestswereabletochoosefrompulledpork,barbecuechicken,or grilledveggieskewers,andGage,
Lincoln’s best man, toasted us witha Coors Light. It was a far cryfromthe elegant weddings I plan now,butitwassomuchfun,myfacehurtbytheendofthenightfromsmilingsomuch.
“We didn’t care about the wedding.” We always said marriage was the important part. In retrospect,weshouldhavecaredmoreingeneral,butI’mnotgoingdownthatrabbithole.“Butwe’re nottalkingaboutmywedding.We’retalkingaboutmybusiness.”
“It might not hurt to talk to him. I mean, he has a lot of corporate experience and he’d bring a differentperspectivefor sure.”
“He knows Ihad a sexdreamabouthim.” Myface flames justthinkingaboutour run-inthe other day.
“Andheblew itoffandmadeajokeofit,”Mikaremindsme.
“Who said I wasn’t the man of your dreams?” I lower my voice in a shitty imitation of Lincoln andshakemyhead.Myvoiceisnormal whenIsay,“Helaughed,Mik.”
“Because he was probablyuncomfortable as hell,justlike youwere.” Mika sighs.“Ifyoulike his proposal,youshouldtalktohim.”
“Ido notwantto interview myex-husband.” Idon’tevenwantto see myex-husband. The thought makesmystomachcartwheel again,andmypretzelsthreatentomakeacomeback.
“Well “Mikastarts.
“Hey,Mika.Evanwantsyoutosayafew words,”callsoutavoice. “Ok. Two seconds.” Mika calls back, then she says to me, “I have to go, but think before you dismiss Lincolnoutright. He’s a smartguy. There’s got to be a wayyoucansee what he canbringto thetablewithoutsittingacrossanactual tablefromhim.”
“Maybe. I’ll give itsome thought.” Iforce mytone to sound lightwhenIsay, “Go and wow them withyour speech.Whoareyouimpressingtonight?”
“Potential interns.We’vefedthem,sothey’reprimedfor me.”Mikalaughs.
“Itsoundslikeit.”Ilaughtoo.“Goodluck.”
Mika calls out a thank you as she hangs up and I place my phone face down on my lap, leaning back against the cushions to stare at the ceiling. The answers aren’t there, unfortunately, but I let myselfzoneouthopinginspirationwill come.
Itdoesn’t. Notreally. ButwhenIlookaround mysmall livingroom, itfeels brighter. I’ll have to make some phone calls to getmybrides onboard, butIthinkIcansell themonmyidea prettyeasily. Brooke doesn’t know what she wants, so this might even help her, and Della is probably the nicest brideI’vemetintwoyears.Ithinkshe’ll agreejustbecauseit’sher nature.
I scrawl down a note on the back page of Lincoln’s proposal before picking up my phone. Even thoughI’ve had atleasttwo phones since Lincolnand Isplitup, he’s still buried inmycontacts and I stare at his name for a solid sixty seconds before I type out a text and press send. Instantly, my stomachstops its crazygymnastics and I feel mypulse slow down. Coincidence? I thinknot. I’mnot sure myplanisn’tgoingto backfire or perhaps I’ve created two problems instead ofsolvingone
butIamsureofonething.Myplandoesn’tinvolvesittingacrossatablefromLincolnBennett.Infact, ithardlyinvolvesmeatall,whichmeansitcouldbeperfect.
EVIE’S RESPONSE comes whenI’mpretendingto read the latestBrandonSandersonnovel. I saypretendingbecauseeventhoughI’vebeenwaitingmonths for thelatestbookinthis fantasyseries, I’m checking my phone every three paragraphs. It’s making for a slog of an evening all the way around.
So whenmyphone buzzes withanincomingemail alert, I’monitfaster thana crow onroadkill. I grimaceatmyanalogyasIswipeover totheemail andopentheonefromEvie.
Lincoln – I was surprised to receive your proposal. It’s very thorough and you make some good observations. I have another candidate whom I’m considering and perhaps the best thing is for us all to meet. After all, the bridal business runs on personality as much as princess necklines. I’ve set up a meeting with Maura for tomorrow at three p.m. and I do hope you can join us.
Best,
Evie
I read the email over three times before putting my phone face down on the sofa, letting out a frustratedhuff.
“What’s up?” Eli asks, peeling off his sweat-soaked T-shirt. He’s been running God knows how manymiles withhis weeklyrunningclub. Of the three Bennett brothers, he’s the onlyone of us who runs for the love ofit. Give me the old weights inDad’s garage anyday. Aheavyliftingsessionbeats cardioeverytime.
“Igotanemail backfromEvie.”
“Cool.And?”Eli wipesthesweatfromhisforeheadwithhist-shirt.
“Shewantsmetomeetwithher tomorrow atthree.”Ikeepmytoneneutral. “Cool.”
“Butthere’sanother candidatewhoshe’sarrangedtomeetwithatthesametime.”
“Oh.So,notcool then?”Eli asks.“But,hey,atleastyou’reintherunning?”
“Maybe.” Although I can’t help feeling like Evie’s offer of a meeting is the take-it-or-leave-it varietyandifIleaveit,Iwon’tgetanother chance.
The feelingonlyintensifies whenIwalkinto Bennett’s Bridal the followingafternoonand see the
china tea set and a plate of shortbread laid out on Shanna’s desk with two delicate china mugs, not three. Ihear Evie’s laughfollowed bya low murmur fromanother female voice, butIcan’tsee them aroundtheracksofgowns.
ThisgivesmetheopportunitytolookaroundsinceIwastoodistractedyesterday.
The room is light and airy. The floor, a burnished oak, is dark, but the chairs and side tables dotted around are various shades ofwhite, creamand pastel pink. The lightfixtures hangingfromthe high ceiling with clear glass bulbs probably don’t give off tons of light, but the big windows on the side let in a lot of afternoon sun. For cloudy days, there are plenty of recessed lights which bring a softglow totheroom.Theoverall vibeiselegantwithatouchofshabbychic,butitworks.
Evie’s laughrings outinthe openspace and this time Iletmyselfacknowledge the waymypulse races in anticipation. I’ve always loved her laugh. It’s unselfconscious and she throws her whole bodyintoit,like she feels her laughter downtoher core.Whenwe firstgottogether she usedtolaugh all the time. I remember a time when we were dating and we went to visit her parents in Michigan, who insisted we go to church with them. Neither of us were religious, but we went because they asked us to and ended up gettinga case ofthe giggles whenthe girl infrontofus keptturningaround makingbugeyes atus. Evie’s momwas notimpressed, whichonlymade us laughharder, and we had to leave before the service was over. We were barelyout the door before she collapsed onthe front step, laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face. I was no better, and we sat there on the step laughing and leaning against each other until we heard the organ music signaling the end of the service and hightailed it to our car. Evenyears later, we onlyhad to make a wide-eyed face at each other tosetusbothoffagain.
IwishIpaidmoreattentiontowhenwestoppedlaughingtogether.
I’mlostinmythoughts whenEvie comes aroundthe corner,butmybrainshortcircuits whenIsee her. Iknow Isaw her the other day, butshe was wearinga coat. Now she’s ina darkgreendress that stretches across her shoulders and hugs her curves, her darkbrownhair is shoulder length, fallingin loosewavesaroundher face,andher red-paintedlipsareturnedupinablindingsmile.
Atleastuntil sheseesme.
Her smile freezes and her shoulders stiffen as she says, “Lincoln. I was just showing Maura aroundsinceshewasafew minutesearly.”
Maura’s a little taller thanEvie and the onlywayIcanthinkto describe her is beige. Her hair is dirtyblonde, her skinpale and she’s wearinga lighttancolored pantsuitwitha white blouse. Ismile andtakeher outstretchedhand.“LincolnBennet.Nicetomeetyou.”
“MauraGlickstein.”Maura’sbrow furrows.“Areyoutworelatedsomehow?”
ObviouslyEvie didn’ttell Maura anythingaboutme. Iwantto thinkit’s inthe interestofcreating anevenplayingfield,butI’mnotsosure.Still,Ishakemyheadandsay,“It’sahappycoincidence.”
I catch Evie’s grimace and I have to hide a smile. I also have to stop myself fromwriggling my eyebrowslikeI’mtwelveandsharingajokewiththegirl Ihaveacrushon.
But it’s like Evie knows what I’mthinking because she narrows her eyes at me and says, “Why don’twehaveaseatandwe’ll talkaboutthebusinesspropositionhereandwhatIhaveinmind.Then youcantell mewhatyouthinkyoucanbringtoBennett’sBridal?”
Shedoesn’twaitfor aresponsebeforetakingaseatononesidethetable.MauraandIshuffleinto thechairsontheother andEviesays,“Wouldyouliketeaor shortbreadbeforewegetstarted?”
BothMaura and I shake our heads and Evie launches into the historyof Bennett’s Bridal. I know the history;she came up withthe idea whenwe were engaged. We lived inRochester and everything wedding-relatedwas ather fingertips.Butthe minute we boughta house inEnita Springs,twomonths before we got married, she realized she’d still have to go to Rochester for all of her bridal-related things.Itwasn’tonlyfrustratingbutinconvenient,andanideawasborn.
I watch her talk more than I listen to her words. She looks the same as she did when we were married, but there are subtle differences. Her hair is shorter and a little bit lighter. She has a few more visible smile lines around her mouth. I’msure she hates them, but theygive her face a depthit didn’thave before. The biggestdifference though, is the wayher eyes skimover me as she talks. She glances inmydirectionbuther eyes never once settle onme andshe doesn’tmake eye contact.Aless securemanwouldfeel invisible.
A less secure man certainly wouldn’t clear his throat and interrupt his prospective business partner in the middle of a sentence by saying, “Excuse me, but I’m wondering how many clients Bennett’s Bridal averages per month, and how your client base has increased over the past several years?”
Evie’s mouthforms a small O and she says, “What a great question. All ofthe informationyou’d ever want about the business is inthe packet I’ve prepared for youto review at home. Roughly, our clientbase has grownbyaboutfiftypercenteachyear we’ve beenopen, butthe exactnumbers are in your packet.”
“Veryimpressive,” says Maura. Ishiftinmychair so Icansee her better as she continues. “Inmy experience,anythingabovetwenty-fivepercentgrowthisexceptional.”
“Well, it is if you’re not used to fiftypercent growth,” I saywitha small eye roll. I mean, come on.
Isee Evie’s lips twitch. It’s a miniscule amountand I’mnotsure ifI’mseeingwhatIwantto see, but she confirms it when she says, “Very true. I’ve been on an upward trajectory and I’m keen to continue growing. Hence the reason I’m looking for a business partner. I have a number of ideas myself,butI’mlookingfor someonewhocanbringinnovationandafreshperspectivetothetable.”
Maura squirms in her chair and I feel a pang of sympathy. Judging by her sensible brown shoes and beige suit, I’d guess Maura’s drawn to Evie’s opportunity not because she has groundbreaking ideas, but because she’s desperate to leave her middle-management office job for something more “fun.” The truth is, although Evie appreciates fun as much as the next person, she takes her business veryseriously.Shealwayshas.
It’ssomethingwehadincommononce.
Evie claps her hands together, then says, “Right. Well, I’ve told you what I’mlooking for and I originally thought I’d ask each of you to give a short presentation of your proposal today, but I’ve sincehadabetter idea.”
Maura straightens inher chair and I feel myself do the same. It’s not like Evie to change course. She’s a planner to the Nthdegree and for her to deviate fromthe planshe laid outatthe beginningof this meeting means one thing. Her preconceived notions of how this was going to go are somehow shottohell andsheneeds timetoregroup.MaybeshehopedMaurawouldbeashoo-in,buther profit commentwasanunexpectedredflag.Or shedidn’tthinkI’dactuallyshow.
“The weddingbusiness is as mucha people business as itis a goods and services business. What I’mproposingis to matcheachofyouwitha clientso Icangeta feel for your style ofworking. You won’t be working alone. I’ll be mentoring you and we’ll be working together. I have two brides in mind. Bothofthemare new clients who planto getmarried withinthe nextsixmonths.” Ihear Maura suckina breathandEvie continues quickly.“Your total time commitmentshouldbe nomore thanfive to seven hours per week, so this shouldn’t interfere with your existing jobs. I’ll compensate you, of course.I’dnever expectyoutoworkfor free.”
MauraletsoutasighandIcan’thelpthinkingthiswomanneedstoplayitalittlecloser tothevest ifshe’sgoingtobecustomer facing.
Evie hands us both cream-colored folders and says, “You’ll find a recap of the information I explained earlier, as well as this year’s business plan. There’s a nondisclosure agreement I’ll need you to sign, and monthly financial projections through the end of the year. If you could sign the nondisclosureagreementhere,thenIthinkwe’redone.”
Maura eyes are slightlyunfocused and her jaw is slack, butshe opens the folder and scrawls her name across the signature line of the nondisclosure agreement without readingit. Her smile is weak as she hands it back to Evie and she says, “This has been overwhelming, but I’m really looking forwardtoworkingwithaclient.”
“Thank you. I’ll be in touch, but I’m hoping I can set something up for later in the week. Does Thursdayeveningfitwithyour schedule?I’ll tryfor Thursdayatfiveifpossible,”Eviesays.
“Yes, definitely.” Maura rises from her chair and extends a hand to Evie. “It was a pleasure to talktoyoutodayandhopefullyI’ll seeyouThursday.”
“Terrific.Thankyou.”EvieshakesMaura’shandandthesmileshegivesher isgenuine.
She watches Maura go and we bothhear the bell jingle over the door. ThenEvie turns to me, the smile slips from her face and her voice is practically a growl as she says, “Okay, stop pretending you’reinterestedinbeingmybusinesspartner andtell mewhatexactlyyou’redoinghere,Lincoln.”
I’m startled by the venom in Evie’s tone, but lean back in my chair and cross my foot over my knee in an attempt to appear unruffled. It’s a classic move which served me well when I was consulting.WithEvie?Notsomuch.
