Best Man for the Wedding Planner

CHAPTER ONE

IF THE BRIDE changed her mind about something one more time, Adele was going to lose it. And she didn’t often feel that way. Brides who got jitters or last-minute second thoughts about their ceremony were commonplace enough. But this bride...

She was sweet and lovely, but such a micromanager that Adele was ready to tell her to go to the spa for the next forty-eight hours and not come back until she was as buffed and polished as the ice sculptures due to be delivered just after the wedding but before the reception.

“Are you sure the calla lilies are the right flowers for the centerpieces?” Holly asked, worrying her lip with her French-tipped nail.

“Yes,” Adele replied decisively. “They’re elegant and perfect for the arrangements you picked.” She inhaled calmly and put a reassuring hand on the bride’s arm. “Trust me on this. Your wedding is going to be perfect. Every detail is sorted, and in two days you’re going to stand here in the great hall and get married and it’s going to be magical.”

She looked around at the majestic hall of the famed Fiori Cascade Hotel and gave a little wistful sigh. It wasn’t her first wedding here, but each time she put one together she did a little daydreaming of her own. Sometimes the great hall was the setting; other times it was a smaller, more intimate room. In the summer, weddings on the stone patio with the Rockies forming a dramatic backdrop stole her breath. They were fairy tales, every last one of them.

But fairy tales were for other women. Not for her. Instead she put her heart and soul into creating a perfect day for each deserving couple. It was incredibly rewarding and affirming even if, on days like today, her patience was tested.

“Are you sure? Maybe we should have had roses, or gardenia or something?” Holly asked.

“I’m positive.” She smiled and pulled out her tablet. “And everything is right on schedule. Tomorrow we have the rehearsal and the dinner afterward. The menu is set and the wine selections made. All your wedding party has to do is show up.” She gave a little laugh, trying to dispel the bride’s nerves. “Holly, you’re having your wedding in one of the most beautiful hotels in the world. Trust the staff to do their jobs, and let me look after the details, so you can enjoy your big day.”

A little voice in her head added, and the lifetime to follow, but she didn’t say the words out loud. She was a wedding planner, not a marriage counselor. Once the last glass of champagne was drunk, her job was over. Each time she finished a job, she sent the bride and groom off with a hope for happiness in the future. The wedding was only one day, but marriage was for a lifetime. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

Holly smiled. “Okay.” Then she let out a big breath. “Okay,” she repeated, laughing a little. “I swear, Adele, I didn’t mean to become a bridezilla.”

Adele smiled warmly as her irritation evaporated. “You’re used to being the one looking after the details. I get it. But your job is to delegate and trust that we know what we’re doing. And we do,” she added. “I promise.”

In five years of planning weddings, there hadn’t been a situation she couldn’t handle or remedy, most times without the bride and groom or the guests even guessing that anything had gone awry. Crisis management was something she was good at, and the time crunch of the wedding day barely ruffled her feathers.

“The wedding party arrives today, and we’re going out for some fun tonight,” Holly said, her posture much more relaxed as they walked to the door of the massive ballroom. “I think I might need it.”

“No bachelor party or bachelorette?”

Holly shook her head. “We decided against it. Pete’s best man is coming in from Toronto, and my maid of honor is pregnant, and the rest of the wedding party is all from Calgary and we went out a while ago.” A blush colored her cheeks, and Adele wondered why. A crazy hen night, perhaps? “Anyway, we’re just going to head into town for some dinner and maybe a few drinks. Keep it low-key.”

Considering the wedding was definitely not low-key, Adele was surprised. But low-key in Banff could still be pricey, and Pete and Holly weren’t sparing any expense. It was one of the most lavish weddings Adele had ever planned.

“Sounds lovely,” she replied as they stopped just inside the door. Adele reached for her coat; tomorrow and the next day would be incredibly long and right now she wanted to head home, respond to some emails and phone calls from her in-house office, and then have a glass of wine and some dinner and fall into bed.

She shrugged into her heavy coat and reached inside the pocket for gloves. At least the happy couple had decided on a January wedding and Holly wasn’t being married at Christmas. That might have been a little too hokey. Holly had indeed wanted red as her color at first, but Adele had shown her some photos of other weddings and convinced her to go with navy and silver. Far less predictable, especially now that the holiday decorations were down. Instead of red and green, they could use the cool blues to focus on snowflakes and winter.

“Oh!” Holly stopped and turned back. “I meant to ask you about the ice sculptures. Is there any way we can make them last longer? It would be so neat to have them last all the way through the evening.”

The sculptures weren’t huge and unless they were put outside, they would melt at a pace consistent with the temperature of the room. “We’ll put them out at the last possible minute,” Adele assured her. “But it depends on the heat of the room. That’s one thing I can’t control,” she advised, and put her handbag over her shoulder. “It’s a huge room, but the temp goes up when it’s filled with people.”

Holly looked disappointed, but didn’t persist, much to Adele’s relief. They were just making their way to the lobby when Holly gave a squeal and picked up her pace.

“Lisa! Dan!”

Adele was adjusting her purse strap, but when she finally looked up, her heart froze and her feet stopped moving. Holly skipped forward and hugged first the woman, and then the man standing in a tan wool coat with one hand on the handle of his suitcase and a garment bag over his other arm.

Dan. Just saying his name in her head made her heart squeeze a little. Daniel Brimicombe. Of all the Dans in Toronto, he had to be the best man. It was too far-fetched to be even comical, but here he was, in the flesh, smiling widely for the bride. The man Adele had once planned to marry. The one who’d whispered plans in her ear in the dark.

The man whose heart she’d broken...and in the breaking of it, broke her own.

Best man Dan.