Jeanie London - No Groom Like Him

Every fiber of Lily’s being rebelled at being pushed. She needed a rest. Her creativity was suffering. Her mental health, too. She already wanted to escape her family, and now felt the same about Ginger, which told her how close to the edge she was. She needed this vacation like she needed to breathe clean air, like she needed to find her footing again.

But this was Ginger.

Ginger, who had supported Lily when no one else in the world believed in her, let alone been willing to plunk down good money to let a young girl barely out of high school start a business. Max’s father ran the bank where she’d applied for the personal loan to get started. He’d called her into his office, praised her aspirations then turned her down cold.

Ginger had reveled in the chance to work in business as a shareholder, to prove to her family she could do something more than charity work. Not only had she provided the starter cash for Worldwide Weddings Unlimited, but she’d also gone head-to-head with Lily’s parents, who had been afraid this business would distract Lily from finishing college.

How could she possibly deny Ginger an opportunity to assist planning a family wedding at Overlook?

And Max had known. Stupid man.

No smart man. He’d loaded the bases against her.

Staring into the backyard, Lily wondered if the frayed rope swing was strong enough to bear her weight now. “I would never let anyone else plan a wedding at Overlook.”

She was exhausted already. She couldn’t possibly get any more tired, could she?

All About Angel—October 5

The Luck of the Devil

Did the Wedding Angel sell her soul to the devil? Or is she so desperate to get a few nondisastrous events under her belt that she’s calling in favors to contract new business?

That’s the question readers are asking today.

What other explanation could there be for this breaking news that the Wedding Angel will plan the Carmichael/Girard wedding?

While the names of the bride and groom may not be readily recognizable, their connection to the well-known Downey family may ring some bells.

Raymond Girard is none other than the brother-in-law of Maxim Downey, newspaper magnate and heir to the multigenerational dynasty.

So how did the Wedding Angel—whose tattered reputation has her scurrying into the backwater of her hometown to lick her wounds—manage to contract an event that is sure to garner a vast amount of media attention?

The luck of the devil?

Or, if readers don’t have a religious bent there’s the much more worldly explanation.

The Wedding Angel is calling in favors.

Let’s ask ourselves: who in their right mind would pay seriously good money to invite chaos and mayhem to their special event? People currently under contract must be asking themselves if there’s some sort of curse dogging their wedding planner.

And what disaster will strike next?

Of course these unfortunate victims have already paid huge sums to engage her services and don’t have much choice but to hold their collective breath and hope her luck isn’t devolving into something of monumental proportions.

So the Wedding Angel muscles her way into a new contract that will—let’s hope!—clean up her muddy reputation, and she manipulates everyone she knows in the process. Who else but family and close friends would court disaster (and risk political suicide at the all-important start of a career) by allowing the Wedding Angel to plan an event?

Who else, indeed?

Visit the Wedding Angel’s photo gallery on her website to see proof of how far back her connection to the Downey family and Overlook goes.

Today’s poll: Will the Wedding Angel pull off her own Miracle on the Hudson or will she crash and burn? Cast your vote.

THE BLACKBERRY VIBRATED on Lily’s pillow. Her eyes shot open wide and she took in the dark bedroom to orient herself.

Riley’s wedding. Pleasant Valley. Her parents’ house.

Weird how she’d grown up in this bedroom but no longer thought of it as home. Then again maybe not so weird because a lifetime had passed since she’d lived here. She was on the road so much even her place didn’t feel much like home. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she reached for the phone and glanced at the display. Not her alarm but a text message.

What is going on with the Carmichael/Girard wedding? Anything I need to know?

The message was from her local office manager, Mara, who would—naturally—be in the office before the sun came up. Which was precisely why Lily had promoted Mara from the position of Manhattan assistant to handle this office.

Mara Tepper had been with Worldwide Weddings Unlimited ever since Lily had contracted her as temporary help for the Bristow/Sonnenburg wedding in the Hamptons nearly five years ago. With half the Democratic National Party in attendance, she’d had to call in two crews from the field, as well as hire local labor.

When several of Lily’s crew became sick with an unfortunate case of food poisoning barely thirty-six hours before the event, she discovered Mara knew her way around weddings. Within a year she’d become an assistant in the Manhattan office. A few years after that she was running this branch in Poughkeepsie.

Lily didn’t bother texting a reply, but instead depressed the speed dial. The first ring had barely ended before the call connected.

“I thought that inquiry was on top of the queue for the next proposal review,” Mara said.

Lily sighed. “It was. Now it’s a go.”

“Um, yeah. Got that part. Ginger’s been talking about the wedding nonstop. She seems to think you’ve already agreed, and I didn’t have the heart to break it to her. The part I don’t get is why I had to read that you’d accepted the job online.”

Lily usually awoke with a clear head. Whether she was a morning person or because she lived in a constant state of semianxiety, she wasn’t sure, but this morning she must not have been thinking as clearly as usual. “What are you talking about? I simply…well, not agreed per se, but sort of got maneuvered and guilted into saying yes.”

“Lily, what are you doing? You need a vacation.”

“It’ll have to wait.”

“Even so, how on earth can you possibly squeeze in another event?”

“We’ll manage.”

“This is not doable. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now. We’re forty-eight hours out in Brussels. Three weeks in Los Angeles. Six in Geneva and Aruba.” Mara paused to exhale an exasperated breath. “You’ve got four more events in production right behind those and that lineup doesn’t include my office, which you well know operates like the redheaded stepchild.”

A rather witty comment as Mara was a tried-and-true redhead—freckles and all. But the pressure Lily suddenly felt precluded humor.

“I know. And I refused. Everyone ganged up on me. It would have taken the Jets’ defensive line to stop them.” The muscle under her left eye twitched. “But what do you mean you read about it on the internet? Where?”

“The All About Angel blog.”

How could a day go south so fast? “You. Are. Kidding. Me.”

“Not kidding. Log on and read it for yourself if you must, but that would be an unpleasant way to start the morning. And you’ve got unpleasantries that takes precedence, I’m afraid. There are some unhappy media outlets at the moment. You promised an exclusive. I followed up last night by assuring they’d get one.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. Several have already read the bogus blogger and word’s getting around fast, apparently. My inbox was practically smoking when I logged on this morning.”

Lily rubbed at the twitching muscle. “Let me check something and call you back.”