The Marrying Type Page 13

  “Who’s this?” he asked, kneeling to the ground to pet the dog. Harvey had been politely waiting for an introduction and basked in the firm scratch behind his ear.

  “This is Harvey,” Ben said, perking up a bit at the chance to continue speaking with the Eric Warner.

  “We had a beagle when I was little.” Eric’s lips curved up when the dog rolled onto his back to encourage a belly scratch. “I’ve always wanted to get another.”

  Unable to sit still while the dog stole all of Eric’s attention, Heloise placed a hand on his shoulder and asked Elliot, “How do you two know each other?”

  The question tore Eric’s eyes from the dog. A jolt of ice ran through her veins. Should she call Ben her “date?” What if they suspected this was a setup? Heloise would love the idea of her being unable to find a man without help from an Internet dating service or family friend.

  Ben saved her from making the decision. “I recently moved back to the area after living on the West Coast. Elliot is helping me readjust to Charleston living.”

  “That’s Elliot,” Heloise said. “Forever perfect and nice.”

  Somehow, nice didn’t sound like a compliment from her.

  “We’re going out to dinner ourselves,” Heloise said. “We would have gone sooner, but this one wanted to watch the end of a silly baseball game.”

  Heloise rubbed her hand up and down his arm. He didn’t notice her attempt at affection and continued to closely watch Elliot and Ben.

  “Are you a Braves fan, too?” Ben asked. “I just finished watching that game myself.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait, you probably follow the Giants.”

  Eric shook his head.

  “He likes the Indians,” Elliot said. She didn’t have time to chide herself for spilling any non-wedding-related trivia about Eric. Ben’s interest had been piqued.

  “Cleveland?” Ben’s eyebrows flew up. “But you live in San Francisco. I would have figured you’re a Giants fan.”

  “I grew up in Cleveland,” Eric said.

  “Makes sense. I can honestly say I’ve never met a Cleveland Indians fan. I suppose we’re united in our offensive team mascots. The Braves may not be politically correct, but I love my team.”

  Eric cracked a smile at last. “It’s hard to give up on something you love even if it’s flawed.”

  Elliot’s eyes widened, but she turned her attention to her cup of tea rather than let anyone notice her darkening cheeks.

  “You should check out a RiverDogs game while you’re in town,” Ben said. “They’re only minor league, but they’re local.”

  “Thanks,” Eric said. “I’ll have to do that sometime.” He checked the time on his phone and cleared his throat. “It was nice to meet you, but we have a reservation.”

  “Talk to you soon, Elliot,” Heloise called over her shoulder.

  While watching them walk away, Ben’s brow wrinkled. “This might seem like a rude question . . .”

  Oh brother. Ben had undoubtedly picked up on the tension between her and Eric. She should come up with a logical explanation—or at least a believable lie. “Go ahead.”

  “What’s the point of drinking green tea?”

  She blinked at him and shook her head to make sense of the question. “Sorry?”

  “It’s only . . .” He shifted from foot to foot, seemingly balancing the question in his head along with his weight. “Green tea doesn’t have caffeine.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “And it doesn’t have alcohol.”

  Did he have a point? “Right.”

  “So why drink it if you don’t get a buzz of some sort?”

  Elliot answered by throwing her head back and laughing. Though he didn’t seem to understand what she found so funny, Ben joined her and they laughed until her sides hurt. She may not have made a love connection that night, but she did find her biggest smile in weeks.

  WITH BASEBALL ON HER mind when she arrived home, Elliot opened her closet and stared at the shoebox on the top shelf. More than seven years ago, she’d taped it shut and stashed it away. Someday, she’d promised herself, she would sort through the box and the memories it contained. But every time she opened the closet, she’d never worked up the courage to go through with it. Until today.

  Carefully, she stepped up on a chair to reach the box. Her fingers left prints in the thick layer of dust. Hands shaking, she walked back across the room to her dressing table. She set the box down and took a seat.

  She needed to do this. She’d already faced her past in the flesh. She could do this.

  The two layers of tape made the task more difficult, but that had been the idea. Piece by piece she tugged away, chipping her nail polish in the process. When the last piece came loose, she set the remnants aside.

  Drawing a deep breath, she removed the lid. The papers, photos, and other mementos stared back at her. The edges of the envelopes had yellowed since the day she’d sent them into hiding.

  She still wasn’t sure what she would do with the contents. Perhaps she should throw them away, after one last look of course. Or, she could keep everything in the box and put it back in the closet. Either way, her fingers itched to find a certain photo—the photo—that had been on her mind since the run-in with Eric and Heloise.

  “No time like now.”

  She reached in for the letters that were bound together with a single red ribbon. She ran a finger across the thin satin band before untying it. The ribbon had once held together a bouquet of wildflowers. Eric hadn’t told her where he’d found them, but she’d assumed he’d picked them during one of his morning runs. To her they’d been more beautiful than any from a florist.

  The day he gave them to her, she’d needed the gesture. By the end of her freshman year, she’d nearly buckled under the heavy course load she’d chosen to take. She’d also contracted a spring cold, which had made studying all but impossible. What she hadn’t openly discussed, or even mentioned, was that April marked the one-year anniversary of her mother’s death.

  The flowers had brightened her day.

  She smiled at the memory, pleased to recall a time when his eyes were filled with love and concern instead of indifference. She opened the first envelope and read the words inside. The sheet of paper, like the others, contained the little notes he used to slip under the door of her dorm room. Hardly Shakespearean sonnets or poems by Browning, they’d been sweet and honest.

  Piece by piece she sorted through her past with Eric. She rediscovered the love story she’d lived once upon a time. Love notes. Dried flower petals. Photos of weekends at the beach. The time they’d gone sledding during an unusually heavy winter storm. Ticket stubs from a year of UVA football, basketball, and baseball games.

  At the bottom of the pile of memories, she found it. It was a picture of them watching the opening day baseball games in his apartment. Their younger faces beamed at the camera, Eric’s arms wrapped around her. Unconsciously, she returned the grin.

  They’d made a bet. If the Indians won their opener, Elliot would have to wear his old Cleveland Indians T-shirt for every game that season. If the Braves won their game, Eric would have to wear one of her hats for the same length of time. Both teams lost. Figuring that meant they’d both lost the bet, she’d left his apartment the following morning wearing his shirt, and he’d kept her hat.

  She wore the shirt tonight. While it hadn’t been in good shape years ago, it was practically a rag now. Through the years, she’d hidden every other keepsake and memory of him, except for the shirt. Maybe she’d worn it as penance for a dumb bet or as a reminder of a sweet spring day. Or maybe she wore it as both a penance and a reminder of what she’d had and lost.

  Unable and unwilling to part with any of her memories yet, she carefully placed each item back in the box and shut the lid. Maybe she’d try to put the past away another time.

  From The Marrying Type Transcript

  Filmed: July

  Airing: October

  Announcer: For one ni
ght, our favorite Southern wedding planner gets to take some time off to enjoy the Warner-Crawford nuptials as a guest.

  Elliot: Adam and Sadie were kind enough to invite me to a house-warming party they’re holding at their new home.

  Announcer: The gorgeous brownstone is buzzing with activity. And the guest list is like a who’s who of local royalty. From senators and representatives to Fortune 500 CEOs, you can’t move without bumping into someone you recognize.

  Elliot: I’m excited to meet more of the couple’s friends and see their home. You can learn a lot about a couple based on the company they keep. And where they keep it, if that makes sense.

  Announcer: But first, Elliot has to squeeze in an important meeting with the outgoing Engagements CEO. Or as she calls it, “Lunch with Daddy.” Our cameras weren’t invited for this appointment, but we can only hope it went well.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Marriage has no guarantees. If that's what you're looking for, go live with a car battery.”

  ~ Erma Bombeck

  WALTER AMBUSHED ELLIOT while she diced tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions for their lunch salad. “Where are we on the Dalrymple business?”

  Sliding the vegetables into the bowl, she tossed them with the mix of spinach and arugula. “You should ask Libby. I haven’t been involved with any of your matchmaking plans to win their business.”

  Walter peered over her shoulder and sniffed at the salmon salad in progress. At his last physical, the doctor said he was at risk for high blood pressure. While Walter wanted to settle the issue by taking a pill every day, Elliot was doing her part by making healthier foods. He’d almost cried the night she’d served whole wheat rigatoni instead of the cheese-stuffed tortellini he favored.

  She didn’t let his whining deter her. She would make sure her father ate healthy and lived a long life if it killed him.

  Plucking a tomato slice from the bowl, he leaned against the counter to watch her work. “What do you have going on today?”

  “Sadie Warner, the bride in the Warner-Crawford wedding, invited me to their house-warming party.”

  “We’re coordinating another party for them?” He frowned at the tomato slice and took a bite. “I didn’t realize they’d hired us for more than the wedding.”

  “We aren’t. It’s a small-ish party at the bride and groom’s house.”

  “They’re throwing it themselves? And you’re going?”

  She focused her attention on plating the salad and salmon instead of her father’s ferocious frown. “They invited me to go as a guest. It seemed like a good opportunity to get a better idea of who will be at the wedding.”

  “Who will be there?”

  “I’m not sure. Friends. Family. The usual.”

  He nodded absently, turning his attention to the salad in front of him. “I suppose it’s a vote of confidence from them to you. They wouldn’t want you there unless they liked you. That’s good for business.” He took a bite of the salmon and chewed it thoroughly before swallowing. She held her breath as he ate another piece, picking up some lettuce with this forkful. “Not bad.”

  From Walt, both comments were high praise. Maybe with a little more time she’d actually earn a “good job” or “we couldn’t have done this without you.” But for today, she’d settle for “not bad.”

  THE SMALL ENGAGEMENT party turned out to be a formal cocktail affair. Sadie and Adam’s list of family and friends more than filled the house. Elliot recognized a good chunk of the crowd. Most were clients or friends of clients.

  After taking a few minutes to make the rounds, she was tempted to pick up a tray of canapés or champagne and start serving. Dressed up and with no purpose, Elliot felt more like a piece of non-functional furniture than a guest. She was taking up space but not doing anything. She accepted a glass of champagne from one waiter and a piece of cocktail shrimp from another to busy herself more than to satiate any hunger. Her stomach churned in knots anticipating the moment she’d run into Eric.

  She wished he didn’t hold so much power over her emotions. While she managed to conceal them, she hated the mounting tension every time he was near. By comparison, he seemed wholly unaffected. It wasn’t fair.

  “It’s much more crowded than I expected it to be,” a female voice said.

  “When Sadie invited me over to meet a few of her friends, I expected to meet a few of her friends,” Elliot said.

  “Not half of South Carolina?” the woman asked. They exchanged grins, and the tension faded from Elliot’s shoulders.

  “Are you a friend of the bride or groom?”

  “The groom,” the woman said. “My parents are friends with his parents, and his uncle, and everyone else in the Crawford family.”

  “The Crawfords’ friends alone could fill this block. I should have expected the large turnout.”

  “Exactly. How do you know the couple?”

  “I’m their wedding planner,” she said.

  “Seriously? That must be quite a daunting task, given the aforementioned connections.”

  The woman smiled again. She was quite stunning. Elliot tried again to figure out where she’d met her, but gave up. She’d made too many new acquaintances at events over the years to keep track of every person.

  “You work for Engagements then?” the woman asked.

  “I do.” A flurry of excitement churned in her stomach. Channeling her mother’s natural grace, she extended a hand. “I’m Elliot Lynch.”

  “I’m Nadia.” She took the offered hand with equal, if more natural, grace. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Mrs. Crawford raves about your work.”

  “Thank you.” Elliot studied the other woman’s cocktail dress. High-end. Famous designer. This season. She held her shoulders with a confidence and air one learned at finishing school or by attending a lifetime’s worth of high society affairs. Nadia came from money. “Weddings are a competitive business, but I try not to focus on that side.”

  “The business or competitive business?”

  “Both.” Elliot sipped on her champagne to give herself a moment to properly formulate her full response. “Sometimes, like when I’m sitting down with our accountant or my father, I have no choice but to remember it’s a business. But I like the other times best.”

  “What times are those?”

  “The times when I’m with a bride, and she’s trying on her dress. Or I’m with a couple and we’re selecting the song for their first dance.” Elliot smiled. “I forget about the dollars and timelines. I’m focused on the moment and how this part will factor into their overall day. My mom used to say people hired us to ensure those moments were happy. I try to keep that in mind.”

  “It sounds like you’re good at your job.”

  “Thanks. I’m lucky to do something I love.”

  The women made small talk for the next few minutes. They discovered they had several mutual acquaintances, which led to more discussion-turned gossip. Elliot had forgotten how nice it was to laugh a little at the ridiculous things people did.

  After a brief, but enjoyable conversation, Nadia had to leave.

  “It was great to meet you, but my date is ready to go. I need to find my mother and tell her good-bye before we leave.”

  Elliot gave an appraising glance at the dark-haired, serious-eyed man with broad shoulders waiting for Nadia. “He seems nice.”

  Nadia grinned. “He’s better than nice. Hopefully in a few more months I’ll be calling you to plan our wedding.”

  The women were laughing when they said their good-byes. Elliot kept her smile firmly in place when she moved on to speak to another guest. He shook her hand and said, “I’m Will Cousins.”

  She nearly dropped her glass. “Elliot Lynch,” she replied stiffly.

  “Of Engagements?” His face lit up. “I’m glad to finally meet you.”

  “I’m sure.” He still held her hand. She tried to pull it back, but he held tight.

  “I have so much I’d like to talk to you about.�
�� She imagined he did. “Your family’s business has one of the best reputations I’ve ever seen. I should be begging you to teach me how you do it.”

  “Is that all you’d want to ask?” No use skirting around the issue. “My father tells me you’re in the process of scoping out potential future business mergers and acquisitions.”

  His lips twitched. “So I am.”

  “And is Engagements one of those businesses?”

  Will took a step back and seemed to examine her face before answering. She was being rude, but at the moment, she didn’t care. Engagements was more than her job. It was her life.

  “I suppose you could say I’m interested. Simply put, you’re the best in the area. I’d be stupid if I didn’t want to explore your business more deeply.”

  “I can’t stop you from exploring. You can do whatever you want.” Elliot’s eyes turned glacial. “But I’m not selling my family’s company.”

  “What about an equal merger?”

  She raised her eyebrows. Was he desperate enough for business to suggest a merger when Engagements was worth a fraction—probably less given their debt—of his empire? “I can’t speak for the whole board, but for my part, I’m interested in keeping this a mom and pop operation.”

  “Fair enough, though I can’t say I’m not disappointed.” Without blinking he snagged two champagne glasses off a passing waiter’s tray and handed one to her to replace her empty one. “Cheers to our mutual success.”

  Eyeing him cautiously, she raised the glass to her lips. The man was definitely a smooth operator. He’d made their whole exchange seem so effortless.

  She opened her mouth to ask him what other businesses he planned to inspect this summer, but let out a short gasp instead when someone bumped into her.

  “I’m sorry, are you . . .” Eric’s apology stopped when his eyes met hers. “Elliot. You’re here.”

  “I was invited.”

  “Of course you were.” His eyes shifted uncomfortably until they fell on Will. “Who’s your friend?”