Wedding Survivor (8 page)

"Okay, Chatty Cathy," he said, holding up a hand. "That's all I'm asking."

She petulantly flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"So I'm sorry about the nail thing. I didn't mean to be offensive," he grudgingly added. "I just want to make sure you haven't been gabbing with your friends about this."

"I don't
gab
with friends. If you must know, I had to move home with my parents because of some…
issues
… and my friends are four hours away. Unfortunately, I don't sit around with anyone but Mom and Dad."

"Issues," he snorted, and looked down at his list.

"Yes,
issues
! Issues you know nothing about!"

"Oh really? Would it be issues like maybe too many shopping sprees? What is it with women and shopping, anyway? Why would anyone spend every dime they ever made and then some on shoes and clothes and spray-on tans?"

Marnie gasped. "How did you
know
that?"

"We run a very thorough background check. We can't afford to have some flake infiltrate our operation."

"Is there a reason you act like we're working on some top military secret?"

"That's a great description, because this is exactly the way we treat our business. The sooner you start thinking that way, the better off we'll both be."

With a huff, she slid down in her seat like a chastised child. "Is there anything else, general?"

"Yeah, private," he responded with a grin, and explained how they would work, how she would bill for expenses, how she was to report in to him on a daily basis. How he and Olivia and Vince would leave for the mountains a week ahead of her for the canyoning, and how
no
, Marnie could not go, because she had work to do.

"There's one last thing," he said. "You need to manage the couple's expectations."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, we are going to be high in the San Juan Mountains and very remote. It's not exactly Santa Monica where you can truck in a bunch of cute lights or whatever, or have limousines drive the wedding party around. Trust me on this—I know Olivia. She's going to want the sun and the moon. It's your job to give her that, but on a scale that matches up with a wedding in a remote mountain location. Just keep thinking about logistics."

Marnie nodded pertly. "Manage expectations," she said, jotting it down. "Got it."

She didn't have it. He knew she didn't have it because she knew nothing about the way these people lived. Eli did know, and that's why he and Marnie would be talking on a daily basis. He'd worked beside a number of Hollywood stars, befriended them, dined with them and knew them to be self-centered egomaniacs who thought the world revolved around them. Hell, he'd almost married one of them.

That prompted a dull thump in his chest and he abruptly flipped his notebook shut. "You ready to meet the bride?"

Mamie's face instantly lit with an enchanting smile. "I can't
wait
," she said, and quickly began gathering her things.

* * *

MARNIE met Olivia Dagwood in her trailer on the set of
WonderGirl
.

Her trailer was really cool, decked out in great, really cool Scandinavian-looking furniture, a big mirror and makeup lights, a separate room with a bed, a Jacuzzi, and a plasma TV on one wall. There were a couple of people inside—one man Marnie thought was a makeup artist, because he was holding a palette of what looked like eye shadows. And there was a woman with a PDA and the ear-bud of a cell phone in her ear.

Marnie didn't even see Olivia Dagwood until she stood up. She was wearing a very sleek and very modern superhero
WonderGirl
outfit. "Eli!" she purred, and went up on her perfect little tiptoes to air-kiss him before turning to Marnie, bending her head back to greet Marnie with a lovely smile. "So you're my wedding planner!"

Olivia, Marnie was extremely disappointed to see, was no bigger than a child. She was maybe two or three inches over five feet and might have weighed one hundred pounds. Marnie herself was five feet, eight inches, and a perfectly acceptable size ten. But next to Olivia, she felt like the Incredible Hulk.

Frankly, she was stunned by Olivia's tininess, because she looked so much bigger than this on the silver screen. And that outfit had to be a kid's outfit she was wearing. And her
head
—of course Marnie would never say this to another living soul—but Olivia's head seemed about two sizes too big for her tiny body. And if Olivia Dagwood was
this
tiny, and she and Vince Vittorio always seemed to be about the same height in the movies, that meant—

"It's Marnie, right?" Olivia asked, extending her tiny little hand.

"Marnie, yes," she said, recovering, and quickly shook Olivia's hand and dropped it before she broke it. "It's so great to meet you, Miss Dagwood. I've seen most of your films and I think you're great. I loved A
Late Summer's Tale
."

"Oh, thank you. I was nominated for an Academy Award for that performance." She smiled appreciatively. "Please call me Olivia. We're going to be working very closely together, so we should be friends."

Okay. She had officially died and gone .to heaven. She was beaming and could practically feel her face splitting in two with a ridiculously huge smile.

"Why don't you have a seat? Peter was just touching me up for the next scene."

Peter, the makeup guy, gave Marnie a cool once-over before he turned his attention to Olivia again.

"And this is my assistant, Lucy. You'll be seeing quite a lot of her."

"Hi," Marnie said.

Lucy nodded her head and dipped her gaze to her PDA, as if something in there was too fascinating to break away from and say hello.

"Have a seat, Marnie. Would you like something to drink?"

Marnie eased down onto a lounge chair. "Ah… a diet soda if you have one."

"
Soda
!" Olivia exclaimed delicately. "Well, no—I should have said bottled or mineral water," she said apologetically.

"Oh! Bottled water is fine."

Without words or eye contact, Lucy got up and walked across the trailer to a small fridge, opened it up, then slammed it shut again. "We're out of water."

Olivia, who had reseated herself in front of a lighted mirror, sighed wearily. "That's the third time in two weeks. Do these people read their contracts? Can you
please
do something about it, Lucy?"

Lucy instantly put her PDA in her pocket and stepped out of die trailer. Marnie looked at Eli. Eli winked at her.

"Okay, Olivia, you remember what we talked about, right?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Nothing too elaborate."

"I know, I know," she said, and looking at Marnie in the reflection of her mirror, she playfully rolled her pale-blue eyes. "Men. They have no appreciation for weddings, do they? Especially Eli. But honestly, I'm not a wedding person. I'm really doing this for Vince."

What did she mean,
especially Eli
? Why Eli? And why was Eli coloring a little? He didn't seem the type to color. Ever. At anything.

He looked at Marnie. "I'll be back in a half hour."

"That's okay, Eli," Olivia said. "I'll send her home in a car."

"You sure?"

"Of course! We've got so much to talk about, and I am sure you don't want to wait around. Is that all right with you, Marnie?"

Was she kidding? "Ah—sure!"

Eli didn't look so keen on the idea, but he shrugged. "Okay. So I'll call you tomorrow, Marnie," he said, and with one last look at Olivia, he stepped forward, bent his head, and whispered in Mamie's ear, "Remember what we talked about." And then he gave her a very pointed look, stepped out of the trailer, almost colliding with Lucy and a guy in a green service shirt, who carried a flat of bottled Perrier.

"Is it cold?" Olivia asked him. "I don't want it if it's not cold."

The man silently hoisted the flat onto his shoulder and went out again.

"Morons. Who wants warm water? I'm so sorry, Marnie. Hopefully the morons will get us some cold water before my next scene. In the meantime, tell me a little about yourself!" she said.

"Oh! Well, I suppose I should tell you that this is my first solo wedding, but I have apprenticed extensively under Simon Dupree—"

"Dupree. Yes, I've heard of him. He did a strike party for a Miramax film I did, I think."

Marnie didn't think so, but continued on with her experience. And as she talked more and more about herself, she had the very distinct impression that not only was Olivia listening, she was
interested
.

Oh yeah, this was going to be the job of a
lifetime
.

MUCH later that afternoon, after a long chat about chefs, Olivia sent Marnie home. Literally.

Dad was puttering around the garage and Mom's book club was standing at the front window when Olivia Dag-wood's car pulled into the drive. Marnie climbed out, thanked the driver, and with her portfolio in hand, practically floated up to the door.

"Who was that?" her dad called to her as she floated by.

"A friend," she said dreamily.

"You have a friend that drives a car like
that
?" Dad asked, his voice full of incredulity.

"Yep."

"Where's your car?"

"On La Cienega. Mom can drop me later," she said, and floated inside. She was instantly met by five women, all menopausal, and all on at least their second cocktail. They stared at her curiously as she entered the dining room, where they typically held court.

"Who was
that
?" Mom asked.

"No one you know."

"Was it Olivia Dagwood?"

That earned a collective gasp from the book club group. "Olivia
Dagwood
? The movie star?" Mrs. Randolph demanded, crowding in closer than anyone. "How would
you
know Olivia Dagwood?"

Mrs. Randolph was not a big fan of Mamie's, not for twenty years since Marnie broke up with her son Tim in middle school. "Olivia Dagwood? No!" Marnie cried and followed it up with a high-pitched, desperate bark of laughter. "Don't be silly! That wasn't Olivia Dagwood, that was
Lucy
!"

"Lucy?" Mom asked, looking very skeptical.

"Lucy! Lucy, Lucy, Lucy! From my old job, remember? She and I used to take Pilates together. She's in town for a couple of days."

"Oh…" Mom said, her skepticism turning into confusion. "Yes. I think I remember a Lucy. Of course.
Lucy
."

Crisis averted. At least until later when a canny Mom would want to know what happened to this so-called Lucy. "Okay, gotta jet," Marnie said with a smile and cheerful wave, then darted down the hall to her bedroom before her mom could utter the name Olivia Dagwood again.

Her bedroom, all yellow-and-white gingham, had remained unchanged since 1985, and usually Marnie hated it, but today, she tossed her portfolio on the bed and sank onto the bench in front of her vanity, grinning like a fool into a mirror that still had a picture of Sylvester Stallone as
Rambo
tucked into the mirror frame.

But Marnie didn't see Rambo. All she could see was a vision of her new future. Tomorrow, the car was going to pick her up and take her to Olivia's
house
. She was going to Olivia Dagwood's house in Brentwood to talk about dresses and cakes and… and something about an arch that Marnie didn't really understand, but would figure out later.

Could this be happening? After suffering the layoff and having to move home and not being able to find a job and generally feeling pretty crummy about herself, could it be possible that she was about to climb out of a hole and start a new exciting career?

Not dressed liked a frump she wasn't!

Marnie jumped up and headed for her meager closet. She was really going to have to find something that made her look a lot less incredibly hulkish if she was going to be the wedding planner to the stars.