The Wedding Promise (10 page)

“Thanks, Claire. Would you let me plan your wedding?” Liza asked playfully.

“Absolutely. Though I’m sure you’ll find plenty of customers who are more likely prospects for a wedding.”

“Oh, you never know.” Liza tried to catch Claire’s eye, but the housekeeper wouldn’t look at her.

Claire was another mysterious personality, come to think of it. A lot like Daniel. Maybe it was something in the water around here, Liza thought.

The only difference was that when Liza had asked Claire if she’d ever been married, Claire had answered directly and simply. “Yes, I was. For twenty-three years.”

But beyond that, she had not offered any detail, and Liza had felt awkward asking for more. Liza wasn’t sure if Claire was divorced or widowed, though for some reason, she tended to think it was the latter.

She did know that Claire was one of a handful of hardy, native islanders. Most of the full-time residents, like Daniel and Audrey, were not. Claire had once told her that her father had been a fisherman, and she’d been raised on the other side of the island, in a fishermen’s colony, one of three children.

Marion Doyle had told Liza that Claire’s family tree dated back to colonial times and the legend of the angels.

Claire did seem to have a protective, healing way about her—almost angelic, Liza would say. So the silly bit of gossip did make some sense.

“Are you nervous?” Claire asked, calling Liza back from her wandering thoughts. “You don’t seem to be.”

“I thought I would be nervous, but I’m not,” Liza said honestly. “I have the event plan to show them and a good caterer to suggest and a ballpark figure of what it will cost.” She shrugged and took a cup of coffee. “What will be, will be, I guess.”

Claire stared at her a second, looking as if Liza had stolen her line. Then she gave a pleased smile. “Exactly,” she said. “That’s just what I was thinking.”

 

 

JENNIFER Bennet and her mother, Sylvia, arrived exactly on time. Liza was ready and waiting for them. She’d taken extra care to clean up her little office area in the corner of the sitting room, hiding it from view with the wooden screen her aunt had hand painted. She also brought in a vase of flowers from the garden, forsythia mostly, which was suddenly in bloom.

Right after breakfast Liza had checked all the rooms on the first and second floors, knowing Mrs. Bennet would want a full tour. Claire was always cleaning, so Liza had no fear on that score. But there was some necessary pillow fluffing and curtain adjustments. She also had a pad and pencil handy, ready to jot down notes about special requests and emergency repairs. She had a feeling the list would be a long one.

As they worked through the usual greetings, Liza showed the Bennets into the sitting room. Jennifer sat beside her mother on a love seat, and Liza took an armchair.

Sylvia Bennet was the image of her daughter in looks. But Liza could tell, just by her expression as she gazed around the inn, she was the opposite in disposition.

“Well, here we are,” Sylvia announced. She glanced at the slim gold watch at her wrist. “We know you must be very busy, Ms. Martin, and we don’t want to take up too much of your time. We also have appointments at a few other places in the area.”

Jennifer turned her head and glared at her mother. Sylvia shrugged. “Well, we do. Ms. Martin must realize we have to make the rounds, see what’s what—”

“Call me Liza. Please,” Liza cut in while Jennifer gave her mother another embarrassed glare.

“My mother is making the rounds. I already know what’s what.”

Liza just smiled. Molly had already warned her that at this type of meeting, the bride and her parents might be going off in different directions. Liza chose to ignore the mixed signals and plowed ahead.

“Here are some ideas I’ve put together. I’ve made copies for both of you,” Liza said, handing each of the women their own copy of the pages. “The more I thought about this celebration, the more excited I got,” she said honestly. “With a small guest list, you have a lot of flexibility. Let’s go over the highlights, and then you can take the folders home and look through them more carefully.”

Jennifer leaned forward eagerly to see Liza’s plan. Sylvia took a pair of reading glasses from her purse, then peered down at the pages with a skeptical expression.

“I’ve listed all the items we need to decide upon. But let’s just hit the high points.” Liza felt more relaxed now. This meeting felt a lot like her former job, making presentations to potential—often skeptical—clients.

“Oh, I like this photo of the flowers. Those are pretty, aren’t they, Mom?” Jennifer held up a photo of a flower arrangement of trumpet lilies and roses.

“Since your wedding is in the summer, you have a wide variety of flowers in season to choose from. That will really keep the cost down,” Liza noted.

She’d read about all this and, luckily, she was a quick study and now sounded fairly knowledgeable.

“That’s great,” Jennifer said. “We don’t want to spend a fortune on flowers but I would like something . . . special on the tables and in the ceremony area.”

Liza flipped through the folder. “Oh, I found a really nice arrangement for that spot. I’m really excited about this. . . . ”

Sylvia sat back and put her copy of the proposal on the table. “I can see you have a lot of creative ideas here, Ms. Martin.”

“Call me Liza. Please,” Liza insisted for what seemed the umpteenth time.

“What field of work were you in before you came here?” Sylvia asked curiously.

“Advertising. First in the art department and later, I was an account executive.”

“Really? This is a jump. I would have thought your background would have to be in the hotel industry or food service to run an inn of this size . . . and plan big events, like weddings,” she added.

Liza could see where this was going. She’d been conflicted about whether or not she really wanted to take on this wedding. But Sylvia had now thrown down the gauntlet, and Liza just couldn’t resist the challenge.

She also felt a heart-melting sympathy for Jennifer, who sat huddled in the corner of the love seat, leafing through the photos at the back of the presentation folder, as if she were wishing she wasn’t here for this part of the conversation. The girl clearly needed a champion, and Liza was willing to step up to the plate.

“I have years of management experience,” Liza said smoothly. “And I spent just about every summer, until I went to college, at this inn, helping my aunt and uncle. I haven’t found it a hard transition at all,” she bluffed in a bright tone. “Maybe this business is just in my DNA. I know I would really enjoy putting on this wedding, and I think I’d do a great job for you.”

“Well, good for you.” Sylvia smiled back and glanced at her daughter. “This plan is very nice,” she said carefully. “But before we get too carried away on the fine points—the flowers and music, et cetera—I’d really love to take a look around at the property. First things first, don’t you think?” she asked, casting Liza a bland smile.

Liza knew what she really meant. If the building and grounds weren’t up to her approval, it was pointless to talk about anything else.

Though Liza wasn’t eager to give the grand tour, she put on her game face and quickly stood up. “I think that’s a good idea. Would you like to start with the inn or go outside first?”

Sylvia finally looked at Jennifer. “Doesn’t matter to me. What do you think, sweetie?”

Jennifer shrugged, avoiding her mother’s gaze. “We’re already here. Let’s just look at the rooms on this floor.”

“I love a logical bride.” Liza knew she sounded like a seasoned professional—and it was almost scary.

Sylvia didn’t say much as Liza talked about how the sitting room and dining room and even the porch could be utilized. She barely seemed to be listening, craning her head back to look up at the ceilings or inspect the crown moldings.

“These rooms have such beautiful detail, don’t they, Mom?” Jennifer said at one point.

“Oh, they do,” her mother agreed, and nodded. Then she turned to Liza and pointed at a tiny mark on the dining room ceiling. “Is that a water stain up there?”

Jennifer looked up, too. “Oh, Mom, who really cares? Is anybody going to be walking around at the cocktail hour, staring up at the ceiling?” Jennifer marched around the room with her hand out, as if holding a drink, and her chin pointed at the ceiling.

“Very funny,” her mother snapped. “I hope you don’t hurt your neck like that.”

Liza wanted to laugh but examined the spot with a serious expression. “I don’t see anything from here, but I’ll get a ladder out later and make sure,” she promised.

The women headed out through the front door next, talking about how the porch and railings could be decorated and little bistro tables set out there as well.

Some real work had been done on the building—a paint job, new shutters, and windows—but the grounds were an easier target, Liza knew. As they walked around to the back of the property, Liza felt a bit more anxious. But she’d worked on her strategy with Molly and knew what she had to say.

Despite Sylvia’s look of disdain as she gazed around the garden, Liza jumped right in.

“There’s not much in bloom right now, and the beds have to be cleaned. But we’ll be planting a lot of fresh perennials and a lot of colorful annuals, too. In fact, once you decide on your color scheme, I’ll coordinate the planting to complement the party.”

How much more accommodating could you get? Liza could see Jennifer was pleased by the idea. “I was thinking of sort of vintage colors with the bridal party and flowers—lavender, yellow, cream. I’ll only have one bridesmaid—she’ll be the maid of honor, actually—my best friend, Megan.”

“That sounds really lovely,” Liza said sincerely.

“Yes, it does,” Sylvia agreed. “But I don’t see how you can get this property in shape in time. The garden is a disaster.” She turned and looked at her daughter. “Do you have any idea how much work they need to do back here? It will never look nice enough in a few weeks, Jen. You might as well just get married out in some big weedy field.”

Liza winced at the indictment, but it was hard to argue. The back of the property did look like a big weedy field—with a few rosebushes popping up here and there.

“Mom, just stop it already. You’re making me crazy. We don’t need to be married in the Public Garden with a reception to follow at the Ritz, okay? This is where Kyle and I want to say our vows and have our celebration. If Liza says she can make the garden look good in a month or so, I’ll take her word for it. For goodness’ sake, all you need to do is stick a few big pots of flowers around, and it will look fine. There are going to be chairs and tables all over anyway.”

That was practically what Molly had told her, Liza thought.

And Molly knew where to get the plants wholesale.

Sylvia looked about to argue but pursed her lips and glanced at her watch. “Well, I think we’re done here. We need to get over to town in a few minutes. Thanks for your time today and putting together this information,” she said politely. “If we have any questions, we’ll call you.”

“Please do,” Liza replied.

Jennifer stood with the big cream-colored folder that Liza had prepared tucked to her chest. As if her mother might take it from her—and toss it over the nearest cliff once they were out of sight, Liza thought.

“Thanks, Liza. I wish we could just settle everything now,” Jennifer added, glancing at her mother.

“But Dad wants to see the information,” Sylvia reminded her. “And he’ll probably want to stop by to see the inn, too.”

Liza wondered if Jennifer’s father was anything like her mother. If that was the case, she might as well hang up her wedding-planner shoes right now.

“That would be fine,” Liza replied graciously. “Anytime. And your fiancé, too, of course.”

“I’ll bring Kyle over very soon. He’s excited to see the place again. Maybe this weekend,” Jennifer replied.

If your mother doesn’t book the Spoon Harbor Inn by then, Liza thought.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Liza said agreeably.

The three women said good-bye, and Jennifer and her mother headed to Sylvia’s car, a white Volvo sedan that was parked in the circle in front of the inn.

Liza went inside through the back door, trying not to worry over the garden. She found Claire in the kitchen, unpacking groceries from a string shopping bag. “Look what I found at the market today. Artichokes. Aren’t they beautiful?”

Liza had never really thought of vegetables as beautiful—until she met Claire. But now, knowing how Claire could transform even a humble brussels sprout into a mouthwatering treat, she was beginning to see the hidden beauty in produce.

Claire glanced at her. “How was your meeting?”

“Jennifer was her usual sweet, agreeable little self. Her mother is sort of a witch. She didn’t come right out and say it, but she obviously thinks the inn is run-down and seedy. Not nearly what she has in mind for her daughter’s wedding. I doubt she’ll even look through that plan I gave them. The amazing thing is,” Liza added, “I started off totally opposed to the idea of doing this wedding, and now I know I’ll feel totally disappointed if I don’t get to do it. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Not at all,” Claire said evenly. “Life would be very dull if we never had a change of heart, if we never felt ourselves unexpectedly . . . inspired.”

Unexpectedly inspired. That was a good way to describe how she felt, Liza thought. “Maybe I won’t get to do Jennifer’s wedding,” Liza said, “but at least I know now that I want to try.”

“Yes, now you know. But don’t give up on the idea yet.” Claire searched under the kitchen sink and came up with a pair of rubber gloves. “The mother of the bride is always the most difficult to please.”

“Frankly, I think Sylvia is probably difficult, no matter what’s going on in her life,” Liza reflected.