Forget Me Not by Julie Soto
9
Ama
MARCH
It’s hard to focus on other weddings when I have Hazel and Jackie’s looming over me. On Saturday morning at the Gutiérrez-Montoya ceremony, I sketched reception hall designs while the bridal party taught the waitstaff their choreography to “Be Our Guest,” which the couple demanded to be performed as the entrées came out. I had two of my ex-stepsiblings there as plants, dressed like the waitstaff and learning the dance for fifty bucks.
My favorites of my mother’s husbands are the ones with kids who need job experience.
But nothing I sketch feels right. It doesn’t feel Elliot.
Surprisingly, the thing I hate about working with Elliot Bloom again is the creative possibility he always made me feel. He could send me a picture of a half-finished piece, and it would change my entire design for a wedding. Because I had to have it. Elliot has a way of creating something from nothing that’s really addictive. You can say, “I want an eight-foot Eiffel Tower made of flowers,” and he’ll send the design and the quote the next day.
It’s Monday, and I’m already on my sixth sketch of a reception hall that doesn’t exist, based solely on his floral dance floor. I have three indoor and three outdoor designs. I’m actively ignoring the other weddings coming up over the next seven months, because I can’t stop thinking about the possibility.
I stand from my desk in the bedroom I’ve converted into an office, pop my back, and go feed the cat. Lady Cat-ryn de Purrgh flicks her tail at me and ignores her chow. She wants the leftover sushi she smelled in my to-go box a few days ago. Mar took me out to dinner on Friday to talk through the meeting with Elliot. I lied and told her it went better than expected. She asked why I was lying, and I ordered another round of drinks in response.
Despite the huge pay cut she’d be taking, I’m going to beg Mar to work as my assistant for the Jackie and Hazel wedding, because as wonderful a photographer as she is, Hazel is going to require a whole team who’ve worked together before. Mar works primarily alone. She met her last boyfriend through photography, and she had him tag along as assistant for her contracted events. Since they broke up in the fall, she’s been doing it solo and interviewing assistants from the photography program at city college, but none of them are ready for the scale of this wedding.
Sighing, I look at the clock. I have three more business hours if I want to make any headway on vendors. My absolute favorite rental company that I worked with under Whitney is the first choice for another couple I have. I don’t usually get to work with Everlast Event Rentals because their prices don’t match my clients’ budgets, but Ashley and Davin want to splurge. I want to nail them down for Jackie and Hazel too.
I dial and hope that Vickie still works there. When I finally get her on the phone, we catch up for a bit about her kids, her mom, my mom. We haven’t really chatted since I left WHW, and it’s nice to talk to her.
“Okay, I have two weddings I want to get Everlast on the books for,” I say.
“Hit me.” I hear her long fingernails clacking on the keyboard. “We’re really booked for the next six months so I hope you’re early.”
“I hope so too. I have the Dawsons on December second. They’re looking for a standard package and a head table kit.”
“Yep. We can do that. Plenty that day.”
“Awesome. Pencil me in and I’ll bring the couple in sometime this week. And then I have a really big wedding in October. FYI, it’s probably gonna be covered by the media.”
“Oookay, I will make a note. No chipped plates.”
I laugh. “October seventh. We’ll need a whole package, but I’m not sure about the details yet. I can bring them in this week.”
“Hm.” Vickie pauses. “October seventh is crazy busy. Ama, I’m not sure we can do it.”
My heart stops. “Really? What am I missing? Why is that day so popular?”
“It looks like we have seven or eight that day already. We’re going to be wiped out.”
My mind is running. What if this is vendor-wide? What if I’m already behind on bookings because it’s someone like Timothée Chalamet’s birthday and all the Chalamaniacs want to get married that day?
“I … Wow. I’ve gotta check with my other vendors on this too. But Vickie, I wasn’t kidding about high profile. Is there any chance of moving things around? Or …?”
She sighs. “Well, I would bring it up with the owner, but four of these weddings are Whitney. You, of all people, know I can’t cancel a Whitney.”
I blink at the wall, my mouth hanging open. “Four Whitney weddings? On October seventh?”
“Yep. Do you have anything else you want to get on the calendar now? Just in case?”
I shake my head, but she doesn’t see me. “No, thank you so much, Vickie. Keep me on there for December second, and I’ll call for a meeting ASAP.”
I’m already reaching for my purse as I hang up, fumbling to grab my iPad. I pull up the notes app and search for the list I made in Whitney’s office. The list she gave me of vendors she wasn’t using on October seventh.
Everlast is at the top.
It’s been four days since I was at Whitney’s office. It’s highly possible her calendar booked up in that time. But it’s also suspicious.
I crack my neck, shaking off that thought. That wouldn’t make any sense. Not with the way she treated me on Thursday. She was happy to see me, happy to help me. Now I’m worried I gave her the wrong date—that all of these vendors on this list are not being utilized by Whitney on a different day.
I look up the number for Freeport Bakery in a rush. I haven’t talked cake with Jackie and Hazel at all, but I need to get these consults going quickly.
I call six bakeries. They all have weddings on October seventh. Two of them don’t know who I am at all because I never worked with them under Whitney, and the others wouldn’t tell me if it was Whitney Harrison Weddings that booked them even if I asked.
It’s not the end of the world. They can still do another October seventh wedding, but scale may be an issue.
I text Jackie to get a read on what they’re thinking for cakes. She doesn’t get back to me until after four of the six bakeries have closed for the day, but it doesn’t matter. She says, No idea yet! What are you thinking??
Well, I’m thinking that you’ve made a big mistake hiring me and that we might even have to do a San Francisco bakery at this point, and I have no contacts there.
Lady Cat-ryn jumps on my shoulder and tears into my skin as the sun is setting—a perfect reminder that I can’t just sit here all day stewing. I unroll the sushi, put it on a plate, and drop it on the floor for her as I take my jacket and go for a walk.
I stuff my hands in my pockets, staring at the treetops billowing and thinking. Maybe I can call Whitney for help? Maybe I can ask if she’ll talk to these bakeries on my behalf, or maybe give me the San Francisco names she’s worked with? But that looks weak. And—
And unprofessional.
I should be able to do this myself, but it really feels like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew here.
My feet take me around the block and past the bookstore on the edge of the park. Then I’m headed for the Rose Garden. It’s starting to get dark now, but I stand on the sidewalk staring at the spot where the arch usually goes during weddings. The unhinged people who can run a couple miles after a long day at work are now out, taking the dirt trail around the park. I almost get clipped by one as I step into the garden and plop down on the grass, imagining Hazel and Jackie getting married here in just under seven months.
The Rose Garden isn’t really that great. It’s beautiful if you love roses. And who doesn’t? Except for angry florists who have endangered flowers tattooed all over their bodies, but I digress. The Rose Garden … Well, it’s not really Jackie and Hazel. Jackie and Hazel are wineries. Rustic barns. Old factories with flowers sprouting out of milk pails.
I hate that I don’t have the reception venue yet, because it feels like I want the reception venue to make up for what the Rose Garden lacks. But maybe I just don’t know what Jackie wants from this. Why the Rose Garden?
I used to ask these questions under Whitney, and she’d tell me later to try not to get carried away. But Whitney doesn’t understand that in order to design someone’s wedding, you have to know why. You have to know how they met. You have to know the proposal story, and how close the bride’s mother is to her, and why she became a vegan, and why she doesn’t eat donuts.
You have to know these things or else you might as well be designing anyone’s wedding. And Whitney didn’t like it when I crossed that line. But Whitney wasn’t the one spinning out ideas like gold from straw.
I hear Elliot in my head. Something he said to me two and a half years ago that I buried and told him to drop.
Maybe Whitney did blacklist me from her vendors for October seventh. I don’t know why she would, but maybe she did. And maybe that means I don’t have to be her kind of professional anymore.
I pull out my phone and call Jackie.
“Hi, Ama!”
Her enthusiasm is seriously so cute. She really thinks that I can actually pull a wedding out of my ass. And maybe I fucking can.
“I’m sitting at the Rose Garden. Are you free?”
Jackie meets me in fifteen minutes. The streetlamps are starting to flicker on around the park, and the neighborhood dogs are on their evening walks. When she walks up, Jackie is bouncing in excitement, like I’m about to cast a spell and all her wishes will be granted.
She sits next to me on the grass. I ask, “Why the Rose Garden?”
“Gosh.” She sniffs and thinks about it. “I used to have soccer practice over there.” She points across the park. “And sometimes there would be weddings on the weekends. I feel like I’ve always wanted my wedding here.”
I nod and twist my necklace through my fingers. “So there’s a sense of nostalgia for you. Being young and dreaming.”
“Yeah. Oh god.” Her eyes pop wide. “Is that not good? Is it not a good enough reason?”
“Stop!” I laugh and nudge her with my elbow. “Of course it’s good enough. It’s what you dreamt of. I’m just trying to visualize Jackie and Hazel in the Rose Garden as twelve-year-old Jackie did.”
I stand and help her to her feet. We trace the pathway we’ve seen dozens of brides take through the rosebushes. We frame the wedding party on either side of the main entrance. I still don’t see this. She starts to sense my hesitation, I think.
“What’s wrong?” She’s wincing.
“I think you and Hazel are special. Not just high profile, but endearing and fun. So I want to utilize the Rose Garden in that same way, and it’s difficult. Not to mention”—I sweep my hand over the grounds—“there’s no way two hundred people are fitting in here.”
It’s something I’ve had in the back of my mind for a while. While permits for the Rose Garden are for up to two hundred, the seating really only fits one hundred before the views are obscured. I turn to look out over the whole park and the busy street attached. That was the other problem. There’s always a car horn in the middle of the wedding video when you’re at the Rose Garden.
And that’s when it hits me. I’ve never had this much money to play with at the Rose Garden. I haven’t had this kind of budget for over three years. When you have money, you can think outside the box.
“What if the altar is over there?” I point to the opposite side of the garden, where the guests usually sit.
“Okay …” Jackie stands next to me. “Where is everyone else?”
“What if …” I take a breath. I know this is a little crazy. “What if we rent out this entire section of the park? We block the street. We hire security for the perimeter.” I look at her and her eyebrows are in her hairline. “You guys want a showstopper. Let’s stop the town.”
I see the moment she realizes that I can do what I’m suggesting. She blinks quickly against the fading sunlight and says, “That’s … that’s amazing. There wouldn’t be any concerns about seating.”
The ideas are coming fast to me now. I spin toward one of the houses lining the street. “That two-story? That’s an Airbnb. We can rent it for the weekend and have the wedding party stay there. Then when it’s time to call Hazel to the altar, she goes around that way”—I point out the path around the edge of the garden—“hidden, and you come straight from the house, across the street that we’ve blocked off, and immediately down the aisle. You both walk down the aisle from opposite sides, to meet in the middle.”
Her fingers come to her lips, watching the path I’ve laid out. “Can you actually do that? Can you block off the street?”
“I’ve done it before. It’ll take some money, but we have that. Not to be crass …”
“Be crasser.” She snorts. “What about the reception?”
“I still think that’s elsewhere. I think we pull up our transportation along that side street, and file the guests in. We could—” I cut myself off. I think I’m moving too fast, but Jackie’s hanging on my every word. “We could do something in the same style. Pop-up wedding—but permitted, of course. There’s a lot of abandoned buildings in Midtown. And before you say ‘yuck’—” I say, but she’s bouncing on her heels.
“There’s one next to Weatherstone, the coffee shop we met at. It used to be my dance studio when I did ballet.”
I hold up a finger. “Okay, we’re coming back to you being a ballerina and a soccer player, but first of all, if you’re telling me there’s an abandoned dance studio next to Weatherstone, then I think I’m calling the city tomorrow to make sure it’s not condemned. It’s the building on the left?”
“Yes! There’s a studio where they used to rehearse for Nutcracker, so it may fit the guest list. High ceilings and everything. We used to sneak up to the roof, and I think it was at least three stories high.”
I file that away. A possible rooftop wedding venue in Midtown Sacramento? That’s a wedding planner’s dream.
I’m biting back a smile as I look up and down the street. “You know, it’s technically walking distance, but … we could do something really cute with the transportation to the reception, especially since this street will be closed off.”
“Are you giving me a horse-drawn carriage at my wedding, Ama?” Jackie squeals, and I take her arms and shake her.
“I can’t believe you stole my super exciting thing I was going to say! How dare you!”
She laughs and throws her arms around me. My mind is racing as I think of all the permits I need to look into, but hanging over all of this is the knowledge that whatever I dream up … it can be done. I have Elliot Bloom working it.
I’m finally looking forward to this design. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.