When Girlfriends Chase Dreams (22 page)

Speaking of which, Sophie and Jackie finished off the paint job—they even dropped by Robin’s and Bobby’s place with left over paint in case they wanted to use any for Rose’s room. Turns out, funnily enough, they used it all, and now Rose’s room has a very similar look to The Cup and the Cake. Sophie said that Robin had sketched out roses on the walls and used the pink paint to fill them in. She said it looks awesome, and I told Robin she needed to have a get-together over there soon.

The tasting session is…nothing short of amazing. My taste buds are tantalized! My mouth waters after each bite. “Yes, that one!” is being said about almost everything I put in my mouth. The list of “we definitely have to have that at the wedding!” items is, like the guest list, growing at a rapid rate. By the end of the tasting, I’m stuffed—the unbuckle-your-pants kind of stuffed.

“And you’re still good with a three-tier cake?” Sophie asks while Katie scribbles on a clipboard. I think she’s a little stunned at the amount of food I’ve ordered. Originally I said we’d want a simple, low-key wedding with barely more than one hundred guests. There goes that grand plan.

“You know,” I tell Sophie as I lick my fingertips, “I don’t think three is going to be enough.”

“True,” Sophie sighs. “I think you’re right. What’s the count at?”

I deliver the shocking news again.

“Yeah,” Sophie says, shaking her head. “No way will three be enough. Four tiers might even be cutting it close, and that’s considering expanding each layer’s size. No…” She looks to Katie. “I don’t think four tiers will work. You, Katie?”

Katie agrees. “Five at least, and expanded.”

I purse my lips in thought. “That’ll ruin the overall design, then, huh?” I finally say.

“I
think
so,” Sophie says. Then, abruptly, “I know! How about, to keep with the overall design, we
stick
with the three-tiered version and then do a dessert bar?”

“Don’t you think everyone’s going to want wedding cake?” I question. “I mean, that’s like a major incentive for a lot of the people coming anyway.” I have to laugh. “Half these people don’t know me or Conner—all of my parents’ clients and long-lost friends apparently—and isn’t that a huge reason anyone like them goes to a wedding? The
food
.
Wedding
cake. It’s the best part of the whole thing.”

“So right,” Sophie says. She turns back to Katie. “And our wedding cake is damn good.”

“The best,” Katie says, not pulling her eyes from the clipboard on which she’s still scribbling. “With your own personal touch, Sophie,” Katie looks to her, “it’ll be more than
perfect!
”

“I’m seriously going to bake you the most kick-ass wedding cake, Claire,” Sophie says with a grin. “And we can make an equally awesome dessert bar.”

I puff out a heavy and loud breath of air. “I don’t know then…”

“I’ve got it,” Sophie says. She sits up taller in her seat. “Our white wedding cake
is
awesome. We sometimes use the same recipe for wedding cupcakes…for miniature cakes…for cake balls.”

“Oh!” I gasp. “I saw cake balls on Pinterest. Pink ones with edible, gold glitter! They were adorable!”

Katie stops writing and says, “And cake pops. Cake balls on a stick. A-ma-zing.” She returns to her writing.

“We’ve got you covered,” Sophie says confidently. “You said you’ve got special stationery items for the food planned, yeah?”

“Yes,” I reply. “Little signs for what the food is and all? Yeah.”

“Exactly,” she says. “We’ll just emphasize
wedding cake
balls,
wedding cake
pops, etcetera. It’ll be a smashing hit. That way you’ll still have your perfect cake—seriously, it’s going to be amazing…to die for—
and
all of the guests will be sure to have wedding cake. One way or another they’ll find ‘wedding cake’ at the dessert table and they’ll be happy.”

I twist my lips and ponder the idea. I’m just not so sure…

“Claire,” Sophie says, giving the “leave it to me” look of hers, “trust me.” She rests her hand on my shoulder. “You’ll have your cake and eat it too.”

Katie agrees, right as I give my enthusiastic nod of approval, then Sophie asks her, “So, how many cake balls, pops, and what-not does that mean?” Sophie looks from Katie to me. Katie looks to me, as well.

“Erm…at this rate lets just assume we need dessert for three fifty-ish,” I say a little unsettlingly. “Maybe four?”

“Four hundred!” Sophie gasps.

“Well, dessert is always wanted in seconds, right?” I say, scrunching my brow.

Sophie gives me a thumbs up and says, “So true. We better get to work. This is going to be the wedding of the year.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Things are going well, Mom,” I say over the speakerphone function on my cell phone. “If the headcount were to stop
expanding,
that would be great.” I pour Schnickerdoodle a fresh bowl of puppy chow.

“You know how your father is,” Mom says in her usual kind and understanding voice. “He has a lot of colleagues whom he considers good friends.”

“Mom, you’re not helping with your adding to the list. You and Dad are…out of control.” I laugh a little as my phone vibrates on the countertop. I take a quick peek at the newly arrived text message, making occasional
uh-huh
sounds to my mom as she runs on about not wanting people to feel left out.

Don’t panic. It’s still early,
reads the message from Lara.
 

I continue to look at the message, flummoxed. It’s still early for what? Then it clicks. I had asked Lara last night why people weren’t sending in their RSVPs for the wedding yet. The invitations, including the enormous amount of last-minute add-ons, went out a week ago! Surely
someone
had received their invitation, excitedly ticked off “Will Attend,” and stuck their reply in a postbox.

“You understand, don’t you, dear?” Mom asks.

I press the reply button on my phone and say, “I still think the list is out of control, Mom.” I’m not listening
that
intently to what Mom’s saying, but I get the gist.

I type to Lara,
Thx. Will stop panicking…for now. XO

I finish off the message with a smiley face, hit send, and answer Mom. “But don’t you honestly think we are letting it get a little out of hand? A little bit. You have to admit…”

“Well…”

While Mom continues to assert herself and her reasoning behind inviting everyone and their dog to the wedding, I start to pack my gym bag for yoga class.

I’ve been really good this week, already going to three of the four classes I have scheduled. Aren’t you proud? I am, and so is Conner. He says he’s sure it’s helping me calm down, and that at some point that inner calmness I’m gathering will start to exude from my pores and I’ll be back to my old calm and collected self in no time. Yeah, Conner says I’m still running around like a chicken with its head cut off. What can I say? Time’s a-tickin’. This wedding needs a-plannin’.

“Oh!” I say quite loudly. Mom’s taken aback and stops in the middle of her never-ending rebuttal about an increasing guest list. “I can’t believe I didn’t mention this already.” I flutter my eyelashes and toss my rolled up yoga mat onto a living room chair. “The boys have all done the initial fitting for their suits—that is, the ones who are actually on this continent.”

“Excellent!” Mom says. “And do you still want me to have one of those
Here Comes the Bride
signs ordered? You know there’s that lady here who makes really pretty hand-crafted wooden signs.”

“Oh gosh, no, Mom.”

We aren’t talking about that dumb sign again, are we? I love Mom, but she’s really hung up on this sign, almost as much as she was with using her friend the florist and her prized lilies.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

“Mom,” I sigh, clicking the phone off of speaker and into normal mode. I bring the phone to my ear. “First, we don’t have anyone young enough in the wedding to carry the sign, and I doubt Chad will want to carry that silly thing.” I have to stifle a laugh at the image. A grown man carrying a frilly sign that says, “
Here Comes the Bride!
”—complete with a lace or pink ribbon. Oh, the thought…the image…

“You don’t even have a flower girl?” I can pick up on the disappointment in Mom’s voice in an instant.

“I really hate the idea of a flower girl and a ring bearer, Mom. Kids in a wedding?” I twist my face. “No. Besides, Martha Stewart says that when you have children in your wedding, they detract from the bride. Not that I’m some bride who needs the spotlight like that or anything. I just…no… Martha advises against children, unless you really want them in. They can throw a fit, not cooperate, cause a hassle… There’s no place in this wedding, and, besides, the only kiddo I can think of would be Rose, and she’s much too young.”

“Well…” Mom sounds reticent.

“So no kids, no sign. It’s less to coordinate,” I say cheerfully. “And Schnickerdoodle is taking care of the ring, so we’re set.”

“And
that’s
not too much hassle to coordinate?” She chuckles slightly. “
That’s
not like a child who might not cooperate? Claire…”

“That’s Conner’s task,” I say breezily. “He has few things to do. He’s got his final fitting to do, to make sure everything’s tip-top, of course.” Mom makes a
mmhmm
sound. “He’s got to train Schnicker to walk down the aisle with the ring, and he’s got to show up and say ‘I do.’ That’s all, basically. He can certainly handle it.”
 

“But the signs are really pretty,” she randomly takes one last stab. “And she can even carve or paint little birds on them—”

“Mom, I love ya. No sign, though. They’re so…pretentious. Sorry, but, I think it’s pretty obvious that the bride is going to come down the aisle eventually! Why on earth do we need some cheesy announcement like that? Isn’t the string quartet enough?”

That reminds me—I must send a reminder email to Melissa to check on the deposit to secure the quartet that she helped me find. Kudos to MC Design and Coordination there for finding them—now we’ve just got to secure them.

I tell my mom that I love her once more, then say I’ve got to run. There’s so much to do and yoga is minutes away.

***

I don’t want to toot my own horn or seem like the gloating type, but I think I’m getting the hang of this yoga stuff. The whole meditation thing and repeating your mantra before each session is very relaxing. The poses aren’t as difficult anymore, and my body is not as stubborn as it was at the beginning. Downward Facing Dog is a cinch. The Child’s Pose is a favorite. I mean, who doesn’t love lying on the floor with your legs tucked in to your chest and your forehead resting limply on the mat, like a tuckered out baby? This is called a workout? I love it!

But then the workout really begins, with striking balanced poses that are still pretty difficult, especially when the level of intensity or length is drawn out.

Wow! Was I in for a treat halfway through the session today when we were told to try moving from our elbow-on-the-floor position to palm-only. Yeah, totally fell over like a fool on that one, so I returned to the modified pose on the elbow. But I
am
getting better, and it’s a lot of fun. Having Sophie and Robin to meet up with at the studio now and then makes it even more of a fun time.

“So,” I say, toweling dry the small beads of sweat that I can feel trickling down my hairline and along my jaw. “You girls want to come over and hang out for a while?”

We probably should have actually planned something, seeing how Conner is going to the golf course with Bobby and some of the guys. However, Sophie’s really swamped with the last touches for the café, Robin’s always got her hands full with Rose and her career, and I’ve been dealing with the florist for the past couple of days.

See, as I predicted, peonies wouldn’t be available for an outdoor August wedding. It would be floral suicide. I can picture it now: Wilting peonies falling face first out of the vases, others limply hanging on by a thread, begging to be put out of their misery. No, peonies weren’t going to happen, despite Melissa’s chipper reassurances.

The florist called me up directly the other day saying she couldn’t get in touch with Melissa. (It’s becoming an epidemic. You have to hit her on a lucky day.) She said she tried reaching Melissa time and again, but to no avail. So she gave me a call and delivered the bad news.

“I’m sorry, Claire,” the florist said resignedly. “I don’t know why Melissa said peonies were possible. I’m not willing to provide you flowers that A, I will have trouble ordering in the summer season and B, will completely fall apart the moment they meet the heat.”

I asked her why Melissa said she was certain otherwise, and, moreover, why she said that she, the florist, agreed.

“I don’t know what is going on,” the florist said, sounding positively flummoxed. “I shouldn’t be sharing this information, but another order of hers, for a dinner, has been completely botched. And getting a hold of her—well, you know. I’m really sorry, Claire, but I refuse to provide you a faulty product, no matter what Melissa said she could do for you. Not doing it.” She was unwavering, and it instilled confidence in me. That’s got to be a first when it comes to this wedding!

“Whatever,” I finally told her. “I don’t know what’s going on with Melissa, either, but whatever replacement flower you think would work best, I’ll go for.” I’m not that picky, so long as lilies aren’t suggested.

When she offered hydrangeas, I happily agreed and told her to change the whole order. Anything slated to be a peony would then become a hydrangea. Load the babies up with water and they could sustain the heat of an outdoor wedding. One fire put out. I shouldn’t have had to put it out to begin with, but…

“Sure,” Sophie says, bringing my attention back to the yoga studio and my chat with the girls. Sophie slips the strap of her yoga mat across her chest and motions to the door. “I can’t stay for long, since I’ve got some work to do at the café still.”

“For a short while,” I say.

Robin and I follow Sophie out of the yoga studio, waving goodbye to the teacher and fellow students. “Hang out a bit, since the boys are out and all,” I offer.