The pièce de résistance was the gracefully hung gold and crystal chandelier, whose dozens of tiny light bulbs cast a diffused, shimmery glow throughout the room. The employees all joked that the lighting was what had given Shimmering Weddings its name.
“Hi, Gia.” Laurel Sweeney’s musical voice greeted Gia as she approached the desk. Laurel was a head-turner—an unapologized-for requirement of Ashlyn’s for all her employees—with rounded curves, huge blue eyes, and a smile that could melt a Greenland iceberg. She was the ultimate definition of a Southern belle, in her late thirties, with tawny blonde hair arranged on top of her head in a sleek chignon. She graced the front desk, greeting each bride as if she were the only person on earth, and she did it with an honest, natural charm that made her efforts all the more appealing. She had an equally warm and generous heart, and Gia was crazy about her.
“Hey, Laurel.” She approached the desk, greeting her colleague with the open, non-business side of her that she carefully meted out. Wedding planning was a cutthroat business, and despite the pleasant comradery the office employees shared, each one was ambitiously battling her way to the top. Gia’s high level of success and overt approval by the boss represented the ultimate threat. So, friendly or not, Gia kept a thin wall of self-protection up between herself and the other four wedding planners in the group.
Laurel was different—and not only because she wasn’t a competitor but because she was a sweetheart.
“You look stunning, as always,” Laurel was saying. Gia was dressed in an ivory and black silk sheath dress and black sling-backs, with small gold hoop earrings and a matching bracelet. She was a firm believer that you had to look successful to be successful.
“Thanks, but it’s all a façade.” Gia’s expression was rueful. “I feel like a squashed tomato.” She leaned forward, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “I had to unwrap the maid of honor’s legs from around the groom’s cousin’s hips at Saturday night’s affair.”
“No.” Laurel’s blue eyes went wide with shock. “Right there at the wedding?”
“In the coat closet. Minutes before the ceremony started. They were doing a full-court press.”
“Oh my.” Laurel pressed her palms to her face. “I can’t imagine how you handled that.”
“Not in a friendly manner,” Gia replied. “I was ripping pissed. Once they had their clothes back in place, I had seven minutes to fix the maid of honor’s gown, hair, you-name-it and get her in the procession line. Not a fun time.”
“You’re amazing. I would have run to the ladies’ room and cried.”
“That’s because you are a lady. This girl was not.” Gia waved away the memory. “Tell me about your weekend. I’d rather discuss something cheerful.”
Laurel laughed. “Well, mine was indeed saner than yours. Lots of sunning and gardening. I brought in strawberries from my fruit garden. Be sure to have some. They’re sinful.”
“Thank you.” Gia sighed. “Sunning. Relaxing. That sounds like heaven. Ah, well… I’ll savor your strawberries and live vicariously through you.” Another more exaggerated sigh. “Since I have no life.”
Laurel rolled her eyes. “Now you cut that out, because you’re not fooling anyone. You love your job. You thrive on solving your weekend debacles. And you could have any mouth-watering gentleman you wanted if you took the time to notice them. They certainly notice you.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” Chuckling, Gia turned and began walking down the hall to the semicircle of offices in the rear. “Is she in?” It was a rhetorical question. Her boss was always in. She worked even more obsessive hours than Gia.
“She’s in, she’s alone, and she’s waiting for you like a sentry at the gates,” Laurel called after her. “So you’re good to go.”
“Thanks.” No surprise there. Ashlyn could smell money a mile away. And this week Gia had delivered a bundle of last-minute, super-lucrative extras.
She rounded the bend, waved at her counterparts as she passed their offices, and paused outside the enormous corner office with the gold plate that read: ASHLYN CUSHING, PRESIDENT.
Gia put her ear against the closed door and listened attentively. Good. No ongoing phone calls.
She gave a brief knock. “It’s me, Ash.”
“Come on in.”
After turning the door handle, Gia stepped into the massive office that, despite its warm rose coloring and obvious personal touches, was Ashlyn’s business domain. Her sweeping cherry desk was the size of Rhode Island, its matching swivel chair was a decadent suede, and all the file cabinets and occasional tables were made of cherry identical to that of the desk, all hand-crafted, and all of which cost a small fortune. Her computer system was state-of-the-art. Its components were the only items on her pristine desk, other than a canister of pens, a few writing tablets, and a stack of current client files perched on the right-hand corner.
As for the personal touches, they consisted of pricy paintings hanging on the walls and equally pricy sculptures on the side tables, in addition to intricate crystal pieces on her window ledge—all collected during various trips abroad. That was as personal as it got. There were no family photos or sentimental items, because Ashlyn was single, married to her career.
Now, wearing a chic midnight blue Armani suit, Ashlyn smoothed a blonde hair into place and sat back in her reclining suede chair—or her throne, as the planners liked to call it. She interlaced her fingers on the desk, tilted back her chin, and gazed expectantly at Gia.
“Good morning. I’m glad you’re here. I could use some good news—I’ve been doing billing and paying vendors all weekend and I have two major client meetings later today, neither of which I expect to be cakewalks.”
“Do you know one that is?” Gia asked.
“No.” The two women shared a smile of understanding.
“Well, hopefully this will make your morning brighter.” Gia plucked out final tallies on this weekend’s weddings and placed them in front of her boss. “I think this constitutes good news.”
Ashlyn glanced down, and a triumphant smile curved her lips as she skimmed the totals at the bottom, silently adding them up. “It certainly does.” She looked up, giving Gia a proud nod of approval. “You’ve outdone yourself. Brava.” One pale brow rose. “How bad was it?”