Wedding Haters (Event to Remember Series-Book 2) (11 page)

“Go ahead, Mom, let’s get it out so we can
move on.”

“Honey, why are you so defensive?” she asks
with the same disapproving tone my grandmother uses. “Why don’t you
just tell me why you were screaming at your cousin in front of all
your friends and family?”

“Mom, will it even make a difference if I
tell you?” I keep my eyes focused straight ahead on the road. This
isn’t my first rodeo going head-to-head with her on this subject.
“You’ve already made up your mind. You expect this perfect family
relationship that’s just not going to happen.”

“No, honey. That’s not . . .”she tries to
interrupt, but I hold up my hand to stop her.

“Please just let me finish. I asked them to
be in my wedding, the most important day in my life. I did this for
you and Grandmother. We’re never going to agree on this subject and
my feelings have never mattered anyway. So, it’s probably best to
just leave it alone and move on.”

Mom doesn’t say anything else about it, and
the rest of our ride is quiet. When we pull up at the house (my
house), Mom tells me she loves me and gives me a hug. I sense a
tiny bit of something from her, guilt maybe? I tell her that I love
her, too.

My new house is a huge hit as is Susan’s
dinner that she somehow manages to whip up in less than thirty
minutes. Sometimes I wonder if she has a secret chef team hidden in
her house, or maybe she has a delivery company bring in food and
she pretends she made it. Either way, she outdoes herself again. I
hope Cole doesn’t expect these kinds of meals after we’re married.
If so, I guess I can always send him down the street to his mommy’s
house for a home-cooked meal. At least he will always have
cookies.

Chapter 7

A few days later, I realize that I haven’t
heard a word from my cousins, and it’s been wonderful. I quickly
learn that I have a bad habit of jinxing myself when it comes to
them. When I arrive at work, I look at my appointments for the day.
At 1:30, I see a familiar name, and I start to feel sick to my
stomach. There is no way it could be the same person, right? There
are people out there with doppelganger names, right?

“Lauren!” I yell, running to the reception
desk. “Who’s this Stephanie Smith? Did she say anything when she
set the appointment?” There is no way that Stephy would actually
allow me to do her hair, right?

“Not really, she requested you when she made
the appointment. That was pretty much all except she was very
demanding and wanted to get an appointment as soon as possible. Do
you know her?” Crap! It is Stephy, but why?

“I think so.” I have a bad feeling as I start
to get everything ready for my day. I wonder why Stephy would be
coming to me today. I’ve been doing hair for years, and never once
has either of them shown any interest in my career other than to
put it down. So, this leads me to believe that they’re up to
something or maybe paranoia is officially taking over my soul. I
guess it could be possible that what they said at the shower is
true. Maybe they are really trying.

A few hours later, I hear Stephy’s voice. I
was hoping up until the very last second that another Stephanie
Smith was going to walk through that door. But of course not, it’s
Stephy.

“Madie, I brought tons of pictures of what I
want you to do. I really want that ombre color that everyone is
doing. Here’s exactly what I want.” She hands me some pictures of
some very dramatic color. Stephy has really dark hair, so I’m
hesitant to go this drastic on her especially because I have never
done her hair. I know her well enough that if it’s not exactly what
she is expecting she will let it be known. Now the question is how
do I convince her to do something else?

“Honestly, Stephy, this is too dramatic for
today. We could gradually get there in a couple appointments. Here
are some other options.” I hand her my iPad with several other
ideas. She looks through them but that doesn’t seem to satisfy
her.

“Can you get as close to this as possible?”
She points to one of the pictures she brought me. “Unless you just
can’t do it?” She knows that is going to drive me crazy. I hate
when someone questions my skills because I’m great at doing hair,
and I know it.

“Of course I can do it, but I want you to be
happy with how it turns out. It would be better to start gradually
and work to this.” I think she’s actually considering that I may
know what I’m talking about. Although I’m still curious to know why
she came to me today out of the blue.

“So, what happened to your regular stylist?
You’ve never come to see me before. Not that I mind, it’s really
nice of you to come in.” I put her on the spot because I have
nothing to lose by just being honest.

“Oh, Federico is wonderful. He went on a
holiday around the world. Won’t return for several months. I miss
him dearly. Anyhoo, I figured why not give you a chance to do my
hair. I’m sure you can use every bit of practice you can get. What
is it that they say, every client is more practice or mastering
your craft or something like that?” Hmmm . . . I give her a forced
fake smile. I’m contemplating “accidentally” chopping off some of
her hair, maybe just on one side. I wonder if I would feel guilty
about it afterward?

“OK, let’s get to it then.” I try to put that
idea out my head.

Is this appointment ever going to end? Stephy
has been rambling non-stop about gossip at her job, men she has
been dating, and how she is now on a strict juicing only diet. I
want to tell her that I have no desire to hear another word about
her irritable bowel syndrome and other “private” health issues she
had prior to the juicing. Nor do I care about the “who has slept
with whom” sagas at work. She hasn’t let me get a word in.

I manage to finish her hair without
completely chopping it off or overprocessing her color. That was
definitely an internal battle of good versus evil. Good ultimately
prevailed, but only so I could keep my spotless reputation
intact.

“Here you go!” I exclaim proudly as I spin
her chair around to show her my latest masterpiece. “The color
really suits your skin tone.” I did a subtler ombre color than the
pictures she brought in. It’s very similar so she shouldn’t really
notice, or so I thought.

“Oh. Well, it’s nice but it’s not this
color,” she says as she holds up the picture to her head. “I really
had my heart set on
this
.”

“I know, but this is just a slightly darker
shade; we’re working to this.” I point to her picture. “At your
next appointment, we will be able to achieve exactly that. Just
trust me, I have been doing this a long time.” Secretly I’m praying
she won’t come back. She stares at herself in the mirror for what
seems like several minutes. She starts running her fingers through
her hair and swinging her head around. She looks like she’s in a
shampoo commercial. I can tell she’s really starting to like it,
but I doubt she will admit it.

“Well, I will just have to see.” She gathers
up her stuff, gives me an air kiss, and with that, she is gone.

After she leaves, I wonder if I just imagined
all of that. Why, after so many years, did she decide to come to
me? Was there some kind of ulterior motive? I shake my head; I
think I’m starting to lose it. I put these crazy thoughts out of my
head and get ready for my next client.

When I get home I look around my apartment,
and it really hits me that I’ve barely started packing. I don’t
know what I have been waiting for. Something comes over me and I
become a packing machine; granted, it’s not Sienna’s perfectly
organized (and annoying) method of packing, but at least I’m doing
it.

When Sienna comes home, she doesn’t make a
single comment about me packing but gives me a satisfied smile. We
chat for a few minutes and she hurries to her room; she obviously
has plans tonight and seems to be in a good mood so my guess is she
has a date with the very dashing Ace Eckelund.

“Which outfit do you like better?” she asks,
holding up two possible choices.

“Well, that depends on where you’re going,” I
say, giving her a sly grin.

“It’s a dinner party, but it’s still a work
function,” she replies quickly. I raise my eyebrows.

“OK, OK. I’m going with Ace.” Wow, what’s
this, she admitted it to me? She isn’t keeping it a secret?

“Oh, that sounds fun. I think you should wear
that one.” I point to the always appropriate and sexy little black
dress.

“What’s the dinner party for?” I ask
curiously. Ace’s company is always having these fun dinner
parties/work events. If I ever need a job, I plan to call him
immediately. I’m not even exactly sure what he does, but it’s
something international and they’re always having fun.

“There is a new team being introduced from
Scotland. They recently arrived, and it’s some kind of welcome
party.” She runs back to the bathroom to do her makeup.

All of a sudden, a light bulb goes off in my
head and I remember that woman Ace was with at Venice. What was her
name again? I hurry to the bathroom to tell Sienna about it and
trip over my box I was packing.

“Ow!” I scream, followed by a bunch of bad
words. My grandmother would be horrified if she heard me right
now.

“What are you doing?” Sienna yells.

“I just tripped, damn it. That’s what I get
for packing.” I really should just hire movers to pack up my
crap.

“Anyway, I just remembered something.” I sit
down on the floor and rub my knee, which I can already tell will be
nice and bruised. “I forgot to tell you that Ace was with some
woman from Scotland when we ran into him. I can’t remember her name
though.”

“Was it Allyson?” she interrupts with an eye
roll. Hmmm . . . that’s not good; she has obviously had the
pleasure of meeting her.

“Yes! I take it you’ve met her.” I can read
Sienna like a book; she has met her, and as I told Cole that night,
she also thinks that Allyson is trouble.

“Yep. Apparently she’s brilliant and will be
a smashing addition to the team here.” I laugh at Sienna’s
imitation of Ace. I’m assuming they’ve had some discussion
regarding her.

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s been extremely
nice to me, but I don’t know. There’s just something,” she
continues and I can see she’s worried.

“I’ll tell you exactly what it is. She’s a
woman with a pulse, and he’s the boss who happens to be the
ultimate package. She knows exactly what she’s doing. Of course
she’s going to be super nice to his girlfriend.” She raises her
hand to protest. “Oh stop! You’re his girlfriend, so get over it.
Anyway, just keep an eye on her.” I finish telling her all about
the night I met her and how she stared me down when I was talking
to Ace. On a side note, this may be just the thing she needs to
give her that push to letting her guard down with him.

Sienna looks amazing as always when she
leaves for her date. The very brilliant Allyson doesn’t stand a
chance.

The next few days seem like a whirlwind. I
have my final dress fitting. Have I mentioned I love my dress? And
I mean
LOVE
! I already have plans to wear it all the time
after the wedding is over. I will be like Monica and Phoebe in that
episode of
Friends
when they are sitting around in wedding
dresses drinking beer and eating popcorn. That will totally be
me.

With a little over two weeks until the
wedding, I’m finally getting serious about packing, and everything
else seems to be falling into place perfectly. Even things with my
cousins have calmed down, other than a ridiculous phone call from
Stephy yesterday. She called to tell me that she and Grandmother
discussed the wedding hair for both the bridesmaids and me. I
(nicely) told her that I appreciated her suggestions, but they
needed to leave the hair to me. I’m not sure if that will be enough
or if I will hear more on that subject later.

This morning Bev called with a few cookie
orders. Luckily, I don’t have any more clients, so I head home
early to get started on the cookies. When I get home, I find Sienna
sitting in on the floor with piles of papers around her. She’s
frantically looking through files; whatever is going on has her
completely flustered.

“Hey, are you OK?” I say, and she jumps
straight into the air.

“Madie, you scared the shit out of me,” she
yells. “I didn’t expect you home so early.”

“I’m sorry. I have some cookie orders to work
on.” I put my stuff down on the couch. “Are you OK?” I ask again
because I can tell she’s not OK.

“I just have to find something. I never lose
things. I can’t believe this,” she rambles on under her breath.

“I can help you; what are you looking for?” I
sit down on the floor and grab a stack of files.

“This is crazy! How could I do this?” she
yells and puts her face in her hands and starts to cry. Sienna
hardly ever cries.

“Oh no, don’t cry. What’s wrong? What did you
lose?” I scoot over on the carpet and put my arms around her. I
can’t remember the last time I saw her this distraught. In between
sobs, she starts to talk.

“I (sob) lost (sob) a (sob) very important
document.”

“OK, I can hardly understand you. Take a deep
breath and try to calm down.” I bring her some tissues, and she
settles down a little.

“Apparently, I didn’t turn in an amendment to
a contract for an event. I swear that I did, now the venue is
telling me that the event was canceled, but I never received
notification of it. Craig and I completely tore apart the office
today. This is a lot of my stuff from my office when I left
Carrie’s.” She points to the huge mess on the floor.

“OK, so what should I be looking for?”

She starts to cry again. “It’s the contract
for your wedding. I . . . I’m so sorry, Madie, but as of right now,
your wedding is canceled.”