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“I can’t imagine what she could want to talk to us about that has to do with that.” I keep the volume of my voice level with Zara’s.
I tell her my order and pay for it. One of Zara’s employees takes her place at the counter, and Zara and I walk over to join Emily and Kim at their table.
The whisper of voices from the group of fiftysomething-year-old women follows me there. I survey the other customers while embracing my 007.
A few individuals glance at me, but I don’t get any vibes that scream they’re capable of planting drugs in a house. Or even breaking into a house and hiding drugs for whatever reason.
But what do I know?
“Wow, your slave driver of a boss lets you leave this early for lunch?” I say to Emily, referring to Kellan.
“It’s the weekend. And besides, I have Kellan wrapped around my little finger.”
“When are you finally telling your boss that you’re in love with him?” Zara’s you-know-I’m-right grin is directed at Emily.
“Shh, people will hear you.” Emily’s voice is quieter than a baby field mouse. “Anyway, we’re not here to talk about my unrequited love life. We’re here to talk about Simone’s W-E-D-D-I-N-G.”
Kim and Zara laugh.
I check over my shoulder to make sure Lucas’s and my secret is still safe. No one seems to be currently interested in our conversation or me. I turn back to my friends. “You think people won’t understand what you’re spelling?”
Em shrugs halfheartedly. “So, I wanted to talk to you last night about something, but I don’t want Kellan to know about it. Not yet, anyway. I want to create a wedding consulting company that specializes in mountain weddings. Specifically, our mountains. Zara, you’ve been thinking of expanding your business to include catering. And Simone, I thought maybe you would like to put together special bridal subscription boxes for it. Kim, have you ever thought of doing wedding photography?”
Kim picks up her glass of iced green tea. “Not really. The thought of dealing with bridezillas gives me a bad case of hives in places that you never want to experience hives.”
We all cringe at the image.
One of Zara’s employees brings Zara and me our food.
Zara cuts a piece of her KuKu Paka. “I wonder if there’s a way to figure out if a bride-to-be is going to turn into a bridezilla before you agree to work with them.”
I pick up my overstuffed veggie delight ciabatta sandwich, taking care the fillings don’t fall out. “Maybe there’s a questionnaire you can get them to fill out.” I’m joking. Kinda.
“I like that idea.” Kim lowers her glass to the table. “Then I’d be more interested in doing the occasional wedding photography. But only if the bride and groom share my artistic vision. I want to have fun shooting the photos.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Em says. “I’ll keep looking for someone to take regular wedding photos if the bride and groom lack the imagination to go beyond the typical. But if we have some photos of your vision to show prospective clients, they’ll know ahead of time what they can expect with you as the award-winning photographer.”
Emily turns to me. “I was hoping to be your wedding consultant. It would be great exposure. So what do you think?”
“I have to talk to Lucas first, but I can’t see him having any issues with that, Em. He’s a guy. What does he know about weddings?” That makes two of us. It’s not as if for the past decade I’ve been creating Pinterest boards for my dream wedding.
“Perfect. This would also be a great opportunity to promote your subscription boxes. Maybe you could come up with special wedding-day and honeymoon boxes.”
“Oh, I love that idea. I could even come up with a series of boxes leading up to the big day.” I mentally jot down a few ideas for them. That would certainly help grow my business.
“If I get to shoot your wedding photos,” Kim says to me, “and it’s all right with you and Lucas, we can use some of the images for our individual businesses. I would also shoot some photos of the reception setup, so we can showcase the food.”
“I was hoping you three would be my bridesmaids. How will you do that if you’re also catering, organizing, and shooting the wedding?”
Zara pats my hand. “Don’t worry. We’re talented multitaskers. We’ll figure something out. We have no intention of missing out on your big day.”
Emily removes a thick, well-used agenda from her oversized purse and starts writing down notes.
A woman in her early twenties approaches our table. She’s pretty and perky. Like an overzealous cheerleader hyped on caffeine. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” Zara asks even though the question wasn’t directed to any of us in particular.
“That Lucas Carson is selling moon rocks?” The girl almost whispers the question.
