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“I’ve always loved this photo. Great Grandma Rita looks so beautiful and elegant, right? Like a screen siren. And Great Grandpa Percy looks so dashing.”
The photo was a copy from an old print. Black and white. Simple. But it was taken in the day when apparently it was a thing to color the black and white photo afterwards. So, they’d both been given a slight touch of color to their cheeks. Rita’s lips were red. And so was the bundle of classic roses she was holding.
“I don’t know exactly what it is. There’s just something so timeless and magical about this image,” I said. “The classic red of the roses. The simple elegance. I wanted to bring this feel to Mom and Jacob’s wedding. Here’s what I came up with.”
I started pulling out pictures and samples to show them each detail, so they could see and touch. From the white and gold place settings to the red roses on each table, the lighting, the wedding party bouquets, it was all here, in pieces.
My auntsoohed andaahed as they started picking through.
“It’s hard to envision it all together, I’m sure,” I went on. “But when it all comes together… I can see it, so clearly in my mind. I can feel how it will feel walking through the room. The colors, the textures, the lighting. I’ve pulled together everything that’s needed for a cohesive design, and all the necessary vendors and supplies are confirmed.” I blew out a breath, a little excited, still a little daunted. This was, by far, the biggest wedding I’d ever done. “Now I just have to execute the design on the big day.”
“This is beautiful, Jolie,” Mireille said.
“Stunning,” Marie chimed in.
“And we will all be there, to help you,” Madeleine assured me.
“Yes,” my aunts agreed.
“Thank you.” I was feeling pretty confident about it, especially with their support. The wedding was going to be absolutely gorgeous and, bonus, make a great portfolio piece. Just in case I actually enjoyed it so much that I thought about doing more weddings.
And, I hoped, it would make Mom happy.
By the time I was done with my presentation, she had tears in her eyes. The first thing out of her mouth was, “I am so proud of you, my girl.”
I wasn’t really used to those particular words out of Margot Vola’s mouth, but she wasn’t drinking, so… the emotion seemed genuine.
“Uh… does that mean you really like it?” I was looking for a slam dunk here. A home run. Knocking it out of the park. All that stuff.
“No, Jolie,” Mom said. “Je l’adore.Iloveit.”
“It’s fabulous, Jolie,” Madeleine said. “For the size of the wedding, it’s still going to feel cozy and intimate. You’ve brought a hint of glitz to it in the classiest way possible, while still honoring the setting.” She looked at her sisters and told them, with confidence, “This is going to be an entirely sumptuous experience, from the food and drinks to the flowers and everything in between.” She took my mom’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You couldn’t have hired a better designer, Margot. Jolie worked hard on this. Youshouldbe proud.”
Mom absolutely beamed at me.
Of course, she’d been dreaming about a moment like this ever since I decided to go to college and actually picked a vocation. The fact that I hadn’t followed through on that vocation had silently killed her.
And sometimes not so silently.
Really, I didn’t think I’d ever made her this proud before. It was kind of making me itchy.
My aunts all congratulated me, and while Marie flipped through my big binder and made impressed noises over everything, Mireille went to mix us mojitos with fresh mint from the garden.
“What is that rumbling sound?” Mom said, a few minutes later, as we all helped ourselves to a mojito off the cocktail tray Mireille brought around.
“Sounds like a sports car,” Marie said easily. “Or a motorcycle.”
We all heard it, faintly.
Mom frowned and checked her phone. “It’s Shane.” She turned the screen toward us so we could all see the live feed from her doorbell cam, where Shane sat outside the front door—astride a motorcycle.
Instant lady boner.
What the fuck. I tried not to gape.
He revved it loudly. Marie was already on her way to the front door. Mom and Mireille followed. Madeleine glanced at me where I was fussing with my binder, trying not to sprint to the front door. When the others were safely out of earshot she said, “Well, let’s not keep your Dom waiting.”
I was maybe gonna live to regret the day I told her about all that.
