Page 13 of Save the Date
Cara hurried across the wide expanse of front lawn, her boot heels sinking into the grass. She crossed the road and found Bert standing in the dockhouse, directing a helper who was fastening baskets of flowers to the tiki torches dotting the corners of the dock.
“Well?” he asked, turning to face her. “Is the deed done?”
“The soloist was just starting when I left. Everything at the church looked great. And Torie actually cried when I handed her the bouquet with Ryan’s pin. I’d say we have twenty more minutes before the first guests arrive.”
Bert nodded. “You didn’t try to talk the groom into making a run for it?”
“Hah! And foul up my biggest wedding of this season? No way. Anyway, even if I had, Ryan wouldn’t have run. The poor guy is totally koo-koo for Cocoa Puffs over Torie.”
Bert wrinkled his nose. “No accounting for taste. So… what do you think?”
“I think they might just have a shot at making it for the long haul,” Cara admitted. “But only because Ryan Finnerty is a total teddy bear. You?”
He shrugged. “I give them six years. Although, if she gets knocked up sooner, I could be wrong.”
Cara giggled. “I’ve got news for you, sport. She’salreadypreggers. That gown fit her with room to spare when it was delivered in March.”
Bert’s eyes widened. “You think?”
“I know,” she assured him. “At the rehearsal dinner? She stuck to iced tea all night. And did you see the way her boobs were about to fall out of the dress? I promise you, we’ll be doing baby-shower balloon bouquets for her by fall.”
Cara took a brisk walk around the dockhouse, straightening tablecloths on the caterer’s highboy tabletops, brushing at the stray fern frond or fallen petal. Technically, this was the wedding planner’s job, but Cara Kryzik never left anything to chance.
“I’m going to head back over to the reception tent,” she told Bert. “All the flowers in the baskets here have water?”
“Check,” Bert said.
“And you’ve misted the ferns with water?”
“Not my first rodeo, boss lady.”
She patted his shoulder. “I think I’ll keep you.”
***
The first thing she checked at the reception tent was the compressor for the rented air conditioner. It was humming along, she noted with relief. The only thing worse than bad weather for an outdoor function in Savannah was a nonfunctioning air conditioner—or even a heater. Again, the tent and the air-conditioning were not her responsibility, but you couldn’t tell that to a finicky bride who was prone to pitch a fit over the slightest flaw in her plans.
Cara stood quietly in the entrance to the tent, taking it all in. The temperature had cooled down nicely, and her flowers, she thought, not immodestly, looked sensational.
She’d commissioned a local glassblower to create three-foot-tall vases for the centerpieces, and these were placed in the center of each of the thirty round tables in the room. The tables themselves were covered in sea-foam-colored linen flounced cloths. Spilling from each vase were arrangements of coral tea roses, blue hydrangeas, variegated Swedish ivy, and marguerite daisies. Hanging from the metal support beams of the tent, she’d rigged up five enormous ivy-covered ten-arm wire chandeliers fitted with battery-operated candles. She pulled a small remote-control pad from her pocket, clicked a button, and the candles began to flicker in the dim light of the tent.
White-coated waiters moved efficiently about the tent, polishing water and wine glasses at each place setting, adjusting and straightening the thick silver place settings and gold-rimmed dinner plates.
“Cara, hi!” Torie’s caterer, Layne Pelletier, hurried to her side.
“You’ve outdone yourself this time, girlfriend,” Layne said, gesturing around the tent.
Cara sighed. “Let’s just hope our bride agrees with you.”
“How can she not? It’s perfection. I’ve been snapping pictures of the tables to put up on my own website. Your flowers plus my food—it’s going to be the party of the year.”
“Hope so,” Cara said. “The Fannings move in some pretty lofty circles. This little clambake of Torie’s could be a real rainmaker if all goes well.”
“It will,” Layne assured her. “Were you at the church just now? Any idea how long before everbody will start arriving?”
They heard the sound of car doors closing. “About now,” Cara said. “Showtime!”
***
