CHAPTER 1
There was an air of excitement as brides-to-be and their entourages streamed through the front entrance of the Wine Country Wedding Faire. Some of them were hoping to find a venue that was somehow both rustic and modern. Some were looking for a baker who could make their wedding cake look like the one they found on Pinterest. Some were searching for a magical bridesmaid dress that would flatter both their childhood best friend and their supermodel-tall college roommate.
I just wanted to find a parking space.
I’d promised my friend Brody Marx that I’d hang out with him at his booth during the midday crush at the biggest bridal event in Northern California.
“Join me,” he’d said. “It’ll be fun,” he’d said.
I’m sleeping in, is what I should have said.
It was going to be hard work. It was going to involve hours of standing. It was going to mean smiling until my cheeks hurt. But I had to admit, it was a good place to network, and, hey, free cupcakes. Maybe while I was there, I could even get to the bottom of why it was a “faire” instead of a “fair”—like the extra e makes it extra classy or something.
After circling the parking lot for several minutes, I was finally able to squeeze between two huge SUVs wedged into spots that were clearly labeled “Compact Only.” I grabbed the box of brochures Brody had asked me to bring and balanced them on my right hip for the hike to the entrance.
I smiled to myself as I thought of all the reasons I love my job as a wedding planner. I got to be there for the happiest day in someone’s life about twenty times a year. I got to travel to destinations all over the world and rack up thousands of frequent-flier miles. And now I was about to spend the day with one of my favorite people. Life wasn’t all bad.
“Kelsey, where have you been?” Brody hissed the second I got to his booth. “Did you get my text?”
“Well, hello to you, too,” I said, foisting the box of brochures into his arms.
“I’m up to my ears in happy people,” he whispered, jerking his head toward the mob surrounding his table. “They’re nuts!”
“Sorry I’m late,” I said. “There was a—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He thrust the box back into my hands. “Go put these out on the table for me while I run to the bathroom, okay? I don’t want to be known as the wedding photographer who wet his pants.”
“I don’t know, I think it has a certain panache.” I set the box on the floor as he sprinted toward the back hall.
A pretty brunette and her fiancé were thumbing through one of Brody’s albums, oohing and aahing over his editorial-style engagement photos. “Where were these taken?” the bride asked me. “I want this same backdrop!”
I craned my neck to look at the shots, but I didn’t recognize the setting. “I’m not sure, but Brody will be back in a second. He’s the photographer.”
“How much does he charge?” asked the brunette’s fiancé.
“Let me find you a rate card,” I said, searching the printed materials Brody had laid out on the table. Why hadn’t he given me an orientation before he’d bolted for the men’s room?
“Is he available the first weekend in November?” asked an eager-looking redhead.
Now, where had he put his calendar? I smiled and held up a finger. “Um, if you could just give me one second.…”
Before I could explain, the girl looked at her friend and whispered, “He needs to get a new assistant.”
You got that right, lady.
I took a deep breath, did a quick assessment of who was serious and who was just window-shopping, and got busy answering questions. I found his appointment book, scheduled him two consults, and was fairly sure I’d even managed to sell one couple his most expensive photography package. He so owed me for this.
I saw Brody down the row, snagging a stuffed mushroom from a caterer who was offering samples. This was no time for snacks. I darted over to Brody and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back toward his booth. “Break time’s over. Sorry, but they’re like a pack of rabid wolves over there!”
“Now you see what I’ve been dealing with all morning.”
“Well, don’t worry,” I said reassuringly. “I’m here now.”
He slowed down long enough to give me a quick squeeze. “Thanks, Kelsey. This’ll go a lot easier with you here.”
“Don’t mention it.” I stopped in my tracks as I noticed a booth down the row that rented out special-occasion kilts for betrothed Scots. “Ooh! Can I talk in a Scottish accent if I get bored?”
“If you must.”
I nodded. “I think I must. We should both do it!”
“Aye, then. Haud your wheesht, lassie.”
I stopped and looked at Brody. “Haud my what now?”
“I was speaking Scottish.”
“That’s not Scottish. That’s, like, pirate or something.”
“Fine,” he said, ducking back behind the table. “We’ll work on it later.”
The next few hours passed quickly as Brody and I hit our stride. By midafternoon, I’d become an expert on every detail of his photography business and I was kind of enjoying working the crowd.
“Hey, Kelsey,” Brody said, wiggling his finger at me. “Come here for a second.”
I pretend-scowled at him, then turned to the couple I’d been talking to. “Excuse me, I’m being summoned.”
“This is Haley Bennett and Christopher Riegert,” he said, motioning to a couple in their late twenties. Haley was a cute blonde with a pixie cut and bright red lipstick, and Christopher had faux-nerdy glasses and a bushy beard. Together, they looked like an indie rock band from Brooklyn.
“Nice to meet you,” I replied with a smile. “Whatever he told you, it’s not true.”
“I told them you were awesome,” he said, “but you’re right, I take it back.”
“Oh, well, in that case, you should listen to everything Brody says.”
Haley giggled as she shook my hand. “You guys are such a cute couple.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “We’re not—”
Brody laughed and put one arm around my shoulder. “Oh, come on, darling, don’t be that way.”
I wriggled out of his grasp, laughing, and punched him in the arm. “Cut it out! That’s how rumors get started.”
“She’s just mad because I hog the blankets,” Brody said, a twinkle in his eye.
I blushed a little, despite myself. I was always surprised when people thought Brody and I were dating. I mean, sure, he was good-looking, but it was so obvious that I wasn’t his type. In fact, I was off by a whole Y chromosome. No reason to let that stand in the way of a beautiful friendship, though.
“These two are getting married in Napa and they need a wedding planner,” Brody said. “And Kelsey here is a wedding planner, and a fabulous one, at that. What a coincidence! Talk amongst yourselves.”
“So, any chance you’re free on the eighteenth?” Haley asked hopefully.
“What month?” I asked.
“Next month. In four weeks.”
“Four weeks? That’s soon.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” The bride-to-be looked chagrined. “Most of the planning is already taken care of, so all we need is a day-of wedding coordinator. Do you do that sort of thing?”
“I do offer a day-of package, but I’d have to check my calendar.” I thought about my assistant Laurel and how she’d been dying to take on more duties. We could probably divide and conquer. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you call my office tomorrow? I’m sure I can figure out a way to make it work.”
“That would be amazing!” Haley said, her face beaming a radiant smile.
I liked her. And I had to admit, these quick little meet-and-greets were a great way to prescreen clients, kind of like speed dating. We made an appointment for the very next day.
The afternoon flew by and the crowds finally started to thin out a little. Brody even let me take a break, after extracting a promise that I’d bring him back one of the signature cocktails they were serving at the bar.
“One lavender lemonade with vodka, coming up!” I said as I darted away.
The line was long but seemed to be moving quickly. As I joined the queue, I recognized a Silicon Valley couple I’d met earlier at Brody’s table. They’d spent quite a while flipping through Brody’s sample albums, and if I remembered correctly, they’d let out quite a few appreciative murmurs.
“Hi,” I said. “You having fun?”
“It’s fun, but the crowds are kind of getting to us,” the bride-to-be said. “I had to promise Raj a beer to keep him from abandoning me.”
“It’s enough to make you want to elope,” her fiancé said.
“Well, hang in there. The drinks should help.”
The bride looked at me and tilted her head. “You were at the photography booth, right? Great work.”
“Thanks!” I said. “I mean, it’s not my work, but I’m glad you liked it. Did you get a business card?”
“I think so,” she said, lifting up her official Wine Country Wedding Faire tote bag. “Although who knows if I’ll ever be able to find it in all this.”
“Maybe we should get his number just to be sure,” said Raj.
I whipped out my iPhone, eager to help Brody land the gig. “Here, I can give it to you.” I read off the numbers as Raj punched them into his phone.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” said a man’s voice from behind me. I turned around to find myself facing Stefan Pierce, an assistant to one of the most prominent wedding planners in Northern California, giving me a look that could have wilted a bridal bouquet.
Dang it. If I’d only seen him coming, I could have avoided him. Over the years, I’d run into him occasionally at industry events like this one, and it was never a pleasant experience. He’d always been fairly obnoxious, but even more so since he’d landed a gig working for Babs Norton, the self-proclaimed Queen of Wine Country Weddings.
“Hello, Stefan,” I said. “I was just—”
“Trying to steal a client?” he said. He tried to sound lighthearted, but there was a definite edge to his voice.
“No! Not at all. I’m here helping Brody and they were interested in using him.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he said as he looked me up and down. “These two have already signed a contract with Babs, so they won’t be needing your help.”
Did he really think I was trying to woo a client away from him and Babs? “Seriously, Stefan, I was just giving them Brody’s number.”
“It’s true,” Raj said, holding up his phone as proof.
Stefan pressed his lips together in his best imitation of a smile. “Babs and I will make sure they connect. Thanks, anyway.” And with that, he steered the couple off toward a display of place settings, as the bride gave me an apologetic look over her shoulder and the groom looked longingly toward the bar.
I took a deep breath and counted to ten. No way was I going to let Stefan get under my skin. Why would he consider me competition, anyway? Babs wasn’t threatened by me. She threw absolutely amazing weddings for anyone who could afford them. I mean, it’s not exactly like we attracted the same clientele.
I blew out a deep breath. Shake it off.
I returned to Brody’s booth, drinks in hand, to finish out my shift.
“Guess who I just ran into?” I asked. “Stefan Pierce.”
“Ewww,” Brody said. “The ‘Ankle Biter’? I’m sorry.”
I laughed. I’d forgotten about the secret nickname Stefan had earned among many of the local wedding vendors because of his frequent tendency to behave like an irate Chihuahua. Why Babs had hired the petty, temperamental Stefan I’d never know, but they seemed to get along fine. She told me once that she appreciated what she kindly referred to as his “tenacity.”
Thank God I had time to slurp down my spiked lemonade, because twenty minutes later who should appear but Babs Norton herself, followed by Stefan and the couple I’d talked to at the bar.
“Hello, Kelsey,” Babs said, air-kissing me once on each cheek. “These two wanted to speak to your photographer friend again before they left.” She arched one eyebrow at me. “Stefan tells me you met them, as well?”
“I did, yes.”
Babs pulled me aside as the couple chatted with Brody at the end of the table and Stefan hovered nearby. “Well, I can’t blame you for trying,” she said, whispering theatrically. “They’re loaded.”
I shot Stefan a look. “I promise you, Babs, I was only trying to give them Brody’s phone number when we got interrupted.”
Stefan crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Just in the nick of time, or so it appeared.”
“No harm,” Babs said, gesturing to her attack dog to stand down. “There’s no way you could have known they were working with us.”
Stefan snorted, then said under his breath, “Besides, they were looking for something a little more … refined than what you typically do.”
“Now, Stefan, Kelsey does perfectly lovely weddings,” Babs said before I could protest. “We have different styles, that’s all.”
“Thanks, Babs,” I said. I think.
“If you say so,” Stefan muttered. He looked dejected that she hadn’t commanded him to chomp on my Achilles tendon.
I thought it was time for a good old-fashioned change of subject. “So, where’s your booth?”
Babs laughed merrily. “Oh, I’m not an exhibitor. Heavens.”
“Hardly,” said Stefan, puffing out his chest. “We have plenty of business as it is.”
“I only came by because I’m a featured sponsor,” Babs said, waving her hand in a flourish. “Didn’t you see the grand prize? It’s a wedding planned by me, and it’s going to be absolutely fabulous!”
Of course. Heaven forbid Babs Norton should have to do anything so pedestrian as peddle her services at a bridal-fair booth.
“That’s terrific,” I said, trying hard to sound enthusiastic. “I’m sure you’ll make some couple very happy.”
Babs turned back to the couple. “Okay, kids, I have Brody’s information. We have a lot we need to accomplish today, so let’s not dillydally.”
Stefan lingered behind long enough to get in the last word. “Good luck finding some new clients.” His sarcastic tone told me he didn’t really mean it. “But in the meantime, stay away from ours.”
CHAPTER 2
The next morning, I got to the office early. Well, early for me, considering my long-standing grudge against mornings in general. My assistant Laurel, on the other hand? Total morning person. She’d probably already been out for a six-mile run and volunteered at a soup kitchen on her way in.
“Laurel?” I called out as I walked up the stairs to our sunny office space on the second floor of a restored Victorian. There was no answer, so I dropped my bag in my office before yelling down the hall. “Laurel? Don’t tell me I got here before you!”
“Kelsey? Is that you?” She popped her head out from the kitchen. “Have you had coffee? Because I just made myself a cappuccino and I can make you one, too!”
“Oooh, fancy,” I said. “It’s like having my very own barista.” Laurel had set us up with an impressive brewing station that whipped up lattes in mere seconds. She said it was for clients, but I suspected it was meant to help keep us at our enthusiastic best.
She pressed some buttons on the bulky, overpriced machine and grabbed my favorite mug from the cabinet. “So how was the wedding fair? Oh, we got a call from a couple you met there. Haley and Christopher? They’re coming in later this afternoon. You had an opening at three.”
“Oh, good,” I said. “They’re adorable. They’re getting married in Napa on the eighteenth. But you probably know that already.”
“You had me at ‘They’re getting married.’ Count me in.” I knew Laurel wanted to take on more responsibilities, and with wedding season approaching, I was excited for her to get her chance.
Laurel handed me the steaming mug topped with frothy foam. “Here you go. I was thinking if you had time, we could go over the notes for the Catalina Island wedding, and then I had some ideas for our website. I was also thinking we should start a blog.”
I laughed. “Okay, slacker. Too bad I can’t get you more interested in the business.” Even though it was going to take about three more grandes to catch up with her, I loved her enthusiasm. When I first hired her, I thought she was trying to impress me with her initiative, but it turned out that that’s just her personality.
We settled in for our Monday morning meeting and divvied up our task list. It turned out to be a pretty easy day—a few calls for me, a few invoices for Laurel, a longish lunch where we talked about work just long enough to make our salads tax-deductible—and it was three o’clock before I knew it.
When the buzzer rang, I ran down to let Haley and Christopher in, then escorted them to our meeting room, a cozy space I’d furnished with an orange love seat, two chairs, and a coffee table. They took the love seat, of course. Couples always do.
“I looked at your website last night after we got home,” Haley began. “You’re a destination wedding planner, right? Does Napa still count as a destination?”
“Believe me,” I said, “it counts. Actually, the wine country is one of the most popular places for a destination wedding in the United States, so it’s kind of a no-brainer for me. I’m just lucky to be geographically advantaged that way.”
“That’s perfect, then,” said Haley. “It should be a piece of cake.”
“Any chance you can help with the rehearsal dinner, too?” Christopher asked. “I have a huge family coming in from all over the country, so it’s going to be a little nuts.”
“Yeah,” said Haley, “they think we’re throwing them a family reunion!”
“That’s not unusual,” I said, laughing. “Are they wine lovers?”
“Oh, yeah,” Christopher said, “my parents love wine. That’s why they buy the extra-large boxes of it.”
Haley giggled at Christopher’s joke, then added: “I wouldn’t say anyone’s really a wine aficionado, but they all love a good party.”
No wine snobs on the guest list? Awesome. Don’t get me wrong; I can work with even the pickiest of palates, and I can talk terroir with the best of them, but Haley and Christopher’s families sounded fun and low maintenance. “That sounds great. I’m happy to help with both.” I poised my pen to write. “So what’s the venue?”
“Higgins Estate,” Haley said. “Out on Silverado Trail?”
“Yes, of course. It’s a gorgeous place.” I tried not to let my surprise show. Higgins was one of the most elegant wineries in all of Napa, with a huge château perched above rolling hills. It was a popular spot for high-end weddings, and it fetched an exorbitant rental fee. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I just wouldn’t have chosen it for them myself.
Haley chewed her lip anxiously. “But? I’m sensing a ‘but.’”
“No, no buts,” I reassured her. “It’s lovely. They’re sticklers for the rules, but I can work with that. Sounds like they may have even lightened up a little. A couple of years ago, they wouldn’t have even let you book it without going through one of their approved wedding planners.”
Haley’s eyes widened with surprise. “Really!? I didn’t realize you had to have one.”
“Well, I mean, clearly they’ve relaxed the rules if they let you book it.”
“They didn’t,” said Haley. “I mean, they did let us book it, but—”
“But it was through that other lady,” Christopher said.
I was confused. “Wait, what other lady?” And why do you both look so sheepish?
“I guess I should have mentioned it before,” Haley said. “We did have a wedding planner, but she was kinda pushy. In fact, she’s the one who insisted we go to Higgins in the first place.”
I was getting a bad feeling. Pushy? Insisting? Surely it wasn’t …
“Babs Norton,” Haley said. “Do you know her?”
I let out the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Babs. And here things had been going so well.
“I do know her.” I tried to keep my expression neutral. “So what happened?”
Christopher and Haley looked at each other. “Well, she was great,” said Haley, “but she was kind of bossy. She kept telling us who we must hire and what we must do.”
I wasn’t surprised. Babs threw impeccable weddings, but she could be a bit opinionated. Most people just considered it part of her special charm. After all, you don’t get to be the Queen of Wine Country Weddings by leaving things to chance.
“So you parted ways?”
“Not because of that. My dad thought she was being too extravagant, so he set up a meeting with her. I don’t know what happened, but they got into an argument. And, well, I guess he sort of fired her.”
Whoa. Someone had actually fired Babs? That was news.
“It was kind of a heat-of-the-moment thing,” Haley continued. “Once Dad cooled down, he wanted to just forget about it and move on, but the damage was already done. Now she won’t return our calls!”
I blew out a breath. Was this going to be weird, me taking on Babs’ former clients? I could see how it might look, especially after the scene Stefan had caused at the wedding fair. Then again, I was sure Babs had collected a hefty cancellation fee from them, and it’s not like her Pomeranians were going to go hungry. Ah, screw it. Surely Babs would understand, and she was the only one whose opinion I really cared about.
“What the heck,” I said. “I’ll do it. I’m going to have my assistant Laurel help out, and I promise we’ll make it awesome.”
“Oh, thank you!” said Haley. “You won’t regret it.”
I excused myself for a moment and walked down the hall to Laurel’s office. “Laurel?” I said, rapping on her door. “Have you got a second? I’d like to introduce you to our newest clients.”
Laurel’s eyes lit up. “I’d love to!” she squealed. She leapt from her chair and checked the large, gilt-frame mirror that hung on the wall of her office, fingercombed her blond bangs and checked her teeth for leafy green bits, and then followed me back down the hall into the meeting room.
“Haley, Christopher, I’d like you to meet my assistant Laurel. I’m going to have her get you guys started, if that’s okay. I have a couple things I need to take care of.”
“Thanks, Kelsey,” said Haley, hugging me impulsively. “I’m thrilled we’re going to be working together.”
“Me too. We’ll talk soon,” I promised, waving as I pulled the door shut behind me.
I thought about Babs. Would she really be okay with me taking on her clients? I mean, it’s not like I sought them out. Normally I wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but after the incident at the bridal fair I had no doubt Stefan was going to cause a stink.
Only one way to find out. I went back to my office and dialed her number. She answered on the third ring, and after a few pleasantries I launched right in. “I had a meeting today with a couple I met at the wedding fair yesterday. Haley Bennett and Christopher Riegert?”
“Oh. Yes.” Her tone wasn’t betraying much, but I could imagine that she was pursing her lips. “I trust they’re well?”
“They are. The thing is, they came to me looking for a wedding planner.…”
“Did they, now?” I could almost hear an eyebrow arching.
“I met them yesterday, but I didn’t realize they’d already been working with you.”
“So this is my courtesy call?”
“I’m sorry, Babs. I just wanted you to hear it from me.” And not from Stefan. I didn’t need him causing any more friction between me and Babs.
She paused for a moment, then blew out a breath. “It’s fine. Water under the bridge.”
“So you don’t mind if I take them on as clients?”
“Now, Kelsey, it’s not like you need my permission. We’re all adults here.”
Well, two of us are. “I know, it’s just—after everything with Stefan yesterday…”
“Oh, don’t worry about him. Look, these things happen. And business is business, right?”
“All right, as long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters. Thanks for understanding.”
“Of course! Someone’s got to do it, right? And if it’s not going to be me, I’m glad it’s going to be you.”
Whew. Weirdness averted.
“In fact, why don’t you come by first thing tomorrow morning and I’ll give you all their files.”
I hesitated. “Any chance I could send a courier over for them?”
“Stefan has an appointment and won’t be in until ten, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I laughed. “In that case, I’ll see you at nine.”
The next morning, I stopped by a pastry shop near Babs’ office to stock up on baked goods. I was so relieved that this wasn’t going to be an issue between us, and I wanted to express my appreciation in my favorite way: with food. I’d pick up the files, we’d eat mini scones, we’d laugh and chat, and everything would be fine.
When I got to the ornate building in Pacific Heights where Babs’ office was located, I circled the block until I found a spot, then I grabbed the box and trudged up the hill to her front door.
I buzzed and waited for someone to let me in. Why didn’t I have a jacket? The morning fog hadn’t burned off yet and it was still chilly outside. I buzzed again, feeling impatient. If she didn’t let me in soon, I was going to have to eat all the pastries and she’d have no one to blame but herself.
I pulled out my phone to call up, but before I had a chance to dial, the door opened and a young man in his twenties came through, winding a scarf around his neck. I ducked past him and darted into the marble hallway, relieved to be out of the cold air.
An old-fashioned brass dial showed that the elevator was already in use, so I climbed to the second floor. I knocked, but no one answered. Had I really beaten her to the office? Dang it, she must have forgotten about our appointment. On a whim, I turned the doorknob and was surprised to find it unlocked. Maybe I’d just leave the box on her desk with a note to call me.
“Hello? Babs?” I called, in case she was there but had been ignoring all my buzzing, phoning, and knocking. I stepped inside her gorgeously furnished front office and had the urge to take off my shoes so I didn’t sully the hand-tufted silk rug under my feet.
“Anyone here?” No answer. I tiptoed across the room toward her office but found it empty. I paused. This was creepy. I mean, right? My intentions were good, but I shouldn’t have been there.
Right behind me, a loud, jangly noise caused me to jump so fast that I actually threw the pastry box into the air, causing fresh baked goods to rain down around me. It was her phone. Who still uses landlines? I wondered, trying to quell the pounding in my chest.
I dropped to my knees and started gathering pastries up off the carpet. Oh, why had I included croissants? It would take me half an hour to remove evidence of their flaky goodness. I crawled across the carpet to chase down a cruller that had rolled under a high-legged couch that sat a few feet in front of a wall of bookcases. I bent my head toward the floor to see where the cruller had gone, but let out a yelp when I saw a pair of eyes staring back at me.
“Babs! I’m so sorry!” I said, shooting up off the floor. “I knocked, but no one answered.”
I waited a beat, but she said nothing in response. What was she doing back there?
“Babs?” I popped back down to the floor again, prepared to launch into a lengthy apology for breaking and entering. But when I saw her vacant stare, I could tell no apology would be necessary.
Babs Norton was dead.
Copyright © 2017 by Marla Cooper
