Serena’s mother pursed her lips. ‘Is it climate-controlled?’
‘Within reason,’ Eva replied. ‘But it’s surprisingly comfortable, even in late summer.’
‘The thing is,’ Serena said, lowering her voice conspiratorially, ‘I saw this TikTok where someone did their reception in a greenhouse, and it went viral. It’s very now.’
Eva nodded. ‘It photographs beautifully.’
That was true. Light did half the work for you in here. It softened everything.
Serena’s mother walked a slow circuit of the perimeter. ‘It’s smaller than the ballroom.’
‘It’s more intimate,’ Eva said.
‘Oh my God,’ Serena said suddenly. ‘Imagine a neon sign with our surname.’
Eva kept her smile steady. A neon sign. For the love of…
‘Can we hang things from the ceiling?’ Serena asked.
‘Within weight restrictions,’ Eva said.
‘We could do, like, hanging installations. Or white draping to make it less… green.’
Less green. Eva needed to check out even further from this situation if she had any chance of hanging onto her sanity.
‘And it’s different from the ballroom,’ Serena went on. ‘Everyone does ballrooms. This feels unique.’
Maddy had thought the same. And yet, the reasoning was a world apart. Maddy had wanted a place where she felt comfortable. Serena wanted to compete with other weddings.
Serena turned to her mother. ‘I think this is it.’
Her mother looked doubtful for exactly three seconds, then recalibrated. ‘If that’s what you want.’
The decision was made. No committee meetings. This girl got whatever she wanted. It was the kind of thing that madethings simpler. Until she couldn’t get what she wanted, of course. Then you were in trouble.
‘It’ll look amazing on socials,’ Serena breathed.
As if Eva had needed to know that’s what this was all about for Serena. She made a note on her tablet. ‘Shall I put in a request for your date?’
‘Definitely.’ She gave Eva a date. It wasn’t Maddy’s date, that was gone. Not that she needed it now. They’d signed on for Hawthorne Manor.
And the greenhouse did not belong to Maddy. It did not belong to anyone. It was a venue space, a line item.
Still.
As Serena wandered toward the door, Eva lingered a moment longer beneath the glass arch.
Weeks ago, Maddy had stood beside her here, happy. Eva had wanted it for her. But she couldn’t make the call for her. She couldn’t be a white knight for her. Maddy was just another bride.
Yet, there had been the texts.
Eva had stared at the first message longer than she should have. She didn’t do this. She did not provide emotional support via WhatsApp to half-naked brides in changing rooms.
She put the phone down. Then picked it back up again. It was still professional, technically. It was wedding-related. Not on the agreed terms of their contract, but hey, a little freebie wasn’t the end of the world. It fostered goodwill.
But it wasn’t friendship. She never made friends with the brides she met. At the end of the event, there were hugs, sometimes tears, and then a polite fade into the distance.
But then Maddy had sent the photo of the ivory dress.
