“Yeah. But no knickerbockers, or whatever those Regency pants are called. I want to look like myself, not a footman.” And with that, she was gone.
***
Once the house was quiet again Lizanne retreated to her office. She sat at her heavy oak desk, the laptop humming to life as the morning sun began to crawl across the floor. She shouldn’t be doing this but Lizanne had always been her own best investigator. She’d already reviewed Rose’s proposal for the Regency-themed wedding, and she’d loved every part of it. What she wasn’t convinced of yet was Rose herself.
She typedRose Delaneyinto the search bar.
The company website was exactly what she’d seen before: professional, minimalist, almost painfully curated. Then she moved to the social media accounts. Rose’s Instagram was a mix of floor plans, floral swatches, and the occasional shot of a coffee cup sitting next to a mountain of paperwork. It was a business account, devoid of personality.
Lizanne scrolled back, deep into the archives, her finger flicking the trackpad with practiced speed. Hidden between a post about a corporate gala in 2024 and a “Day in the Life” reel, she found it. A photo of a small, bright-eyed girl with a gap-toothed smile and a pair of mismatched socks.
Love of my life. My Daisy.
Lizanne leaned back, a small, cynical smirk playing on her lips. “Rose and Daisy,” she muttered under her breath, the irony of the botanical naming scheme not lost on her. “How precious. What’s the mother’s name? Petunia? It’s practically a bouquet.”
She kept looking, her cursor hovering over a related search that the algorithm had served up.Wedding Registry: Rose Delaney and Derek Jones.
Lizanne’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, look at that.”
She clicked the link. It was a high-end registry, hosted on a site that required a password for the guest list but left theOur Wedding Storypage public. The date was set for December 14th. The location was a Victorian glasshouse at an exclusive resort in the Catskill Mountains.
She scrolled through the public guest book, her eyes scanning the comments.
“Can’t wait to see you in that dress, Rose! Derek is a lucky man!” – Kayla.
“Derek better be ready for the seating chart of the century.” –Quinn.
There was even a photo of the happy couple. It was taken from behind, their heads together as they looked out over a fancy stone balcony toward a sunset. Lizanne recognized the hair immediately—the long black length tipped with that sharp, jagged red. This was a recent photo. Had to be.
Beside her stood the man, Derek. He was burly, with thick, curly brown hair and the shadow of a five-day beard along his jaw. He looked exactly like the patient, grounding attorney Rose had described.
Lizanne clicked over to the linked Pinterest board. It was a masterclass in winter aesthetics. White birch trees, thousands of hanging candles, a ceiling dripping in deep, lush greenery. It wasn’t the work of a hack. It was the work of someone who understood that luxury was found in the details, not the glitter.
Lizanne went back to the company bio and looked at Rose’s headshot. She was strikingly pretty in a way that didn’t try too hard. There was a raw, focused energy in her eyes—the look of a woman who was used to fighting for her space in the world.
Lizanne felt a strange, fleeting thought cross her mind. If she wasn’t getting married to Trina, a woman like Rose Delaney might have been tempting.
Lizanne closed the laptop with a definitive snap. She had seen enough. The girl had the technical skill, she had the experience, and she clearly had the emotional skin in the game she’d claimed to have. She wasn’t just a vendor; she was a bride-to-be who understood the weight of the day.
She picked up her phone and hit speed dial.
“Pat?” Lizanne said when the assistant picked up. “Cancel the two o’clock interview with the other firm. We’re going with Delaney.”
“You’re sure?” Pat asked, her voice crackling with professional skepticism. “The other firm has a much larger staff and more experience with the network—”
“I don’t want a firm, Pat. I want the woman who’s as stressed as I am.” Lizanne looked out at her driveway, feeling a spark of genuine excitement for the first time in weeks. “Send the contract and pay her the deposit.”
“I’ll get it over to her immediately,” Pat said.
“And Pat? Mention I saw her registry. Tell her the hanging candles were a nice touch. I like a woman who pays attention to the light.”
She hung up, a slow smile spreading across her face. As far as Lizanne was concerned, she’d just hired the perfect partner for the wedding of the year.
Chapter 5
Rose
September 17th
