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“Wait.” There was a small pause, a rattle of a doorknob and the snick of a door closing before Callie continued over the earpiece.
“There is this black bag on the loveseat. It’s way too small to hold the ton of silk and lace of the client’s dress, but let me check.”
“No. No. That’s not it. Don’t waste your time,” Juniper countered. A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach clued her in on exactly what happened.
Juniper stopped her mental freak-out to welcome a few guests with a smile before slipping into the growing crowd to make room for more guests to move through the foyer. She took a step back and bumped into a cameraman, who turned the lens on her. She smiled and skillfully slipped behind a burly mountain of a man that looked a little too big for his suit. Given it was balmy ninety degrees outside he looked like he could use a cold drink along with a new suit jacket. He served as a great distraction to draw the attention of the nosy cameramen.
Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact.
She tucked her chin and hurried around the corner before the crew could get the idea of following her. She signaled for a couple of waiters and quickly instructed them to greet the new arrivals with chilled champagne or cocktails.
Gotta love Los Angeles in the summer.
Beams of sunlight poured in from the wall of windows that lined the west side of the movie star’s LA mansion and challenged the cooling system to the max. Mansion was the only word Juniper could adequately use to describe the four-story home with long, winding marble staircases and just as many bathrooms as Buckingham Palace, no doubt.
A small part of her felt sorry for the cleaning crew after this shin-dig wrapped up.
Striking shafts of light spilled through the massive floor to ceiling windows in the large formal dining area. For the past two weeks leading up to the big day, Juniper had worked closely with set designers to convert the star’s home into a scene straight out of a 007 flick.
When Gretchen Stewart had made the request, Juniper didn’t blink and found a way to make it happen. The bride-to-be had wanted to honor her start in Hollywood as a coveted Bond girl and Juniper would see it through to the end.
Daunting as the job had been, it was the first important step in taking her business to the next level.
A waitress glided through the growing crowd, tray held high. As part of the wedding, all staff color-coordinated with the elaborate James Bond theme. White shirts with golden accents paired with black slacks or skirts. The bridesmaids wore sleeveless black satin blouses with detached golden cuffs complete with cufflinks while she and Callie wore shimmery golden gowns that felt like gold leaf paper against her skin. Her creamy cleavage didn’t look half bad if she had a vote.
Countless tiny yellow and white roses were woven together to create a stunning floral curtain to drape from the eaves. Above, thousands of balloons covered the domed glass ceiling to create a sea of gold and black. When the sun dipped beyond the water’s edge and night fell, tiny white specks hand-painted on the balloons would sparkle for a magical galaxy effect.
But right now none of that mattered.
“I’m in the west wing in the bride’s dressing room right next to her suite. We’ve looked everywhere and none of the wait staff or maids have moved anything.”
“Give me five.”
Juniper heard the rustling of satin, girls’ laughter, and the unmistakable voice of Gretchen Stewart through the earpiece as they broke out in an impromptu rendition of “I’m Every Woman.”
Unlike most celebrities who preferred privacy, Gretchen saw every event in her life as a reason to have a camera present. That meant triple the cameras for something as big a deal as this. Which made her job all the harder.
Juniper pushed through the double doors separating the kitchen from the rest of the house and scanned over the chef and her assistants. A bustle of hands and bodies moved in unison as everyone worked around one another.
The thick aroma of beef with fresh vegetables, apples, cinnamon and of course the sweet vanilla scent of the flawless cake saturated her senses.
Memories would be made because of what their team pulled off here today. She started to tear up. This was what her job was all about.
Her gaze landed on a pretty middle-aged blonde with a fetish for hairspray, the color pink and anything that clung to her curves.
“Bingo.” Gotcha. Right where she thought the meddlesome mother would be, too.
“Mrs. Stewart. Everything okay here?” She crossed the kitchen and offered one of her cool-as-a-cucumber smiles she reserved for moments like these.
The mother of the bride stood a few inches shorter than Juniper’s five-eight, but her coif made up for the missing inches. Wrapped in a skin-tight, hot pink one-piece with gold swirls and matching stilettos, Juniper didn’t know how the woman had slipped by her in the first place.
“Yes, just making sure everything is running smoothly. The cake could use a few more roses, don’t you think? I also wanted to talk to you about the vows.” She went on as she settled a hand over Juniper’s, wrapped around her clipboard. “Don’t you think—”
“I’m sure it’s exactly like your daughter envisioned, Mrs. Stewart. And we’ve already talked about the vows your daughter will be sharing with her husband-to-be. Those aren’t really for us to change.” Juniper hated to cut in and sound snippy, but she didn’t have time to coddle right now or the bride really would be walking the aisle in her birthday suit.
“Yes, but they are so dreadfully long. You would think they’re reciting fucking Shakespeare for God’s sake. Don’t you feel the need to save us all?”
Juniper genuinely laughed. “You remind me of my gran, Mrs. Stewart. You two would get along beautifully.”
