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PAIGE
Once we’re all standing in the ballroom, Trina separates the women from the men by sending the men to the other side of the room. When they’ve moved, she turns her attention to us. “I know what a nerve-wracking experience this must be for you all, but I want to assure you that I only have your best interests at heart.”
My gaze travels across the group as she chats about the importance of speaking up and staying in the light. The other women are an interesting mix. Some of them are very attractive, others, traditionally less so. We’re a pretty accurate cross section of humanity.
Trina reminds us, “Remember to be yourselves and don’t pretend for the camera. Our goal is to find you real and lasting love. That won’t happen if you’re not being true to who you are.” She smiles encouragingly. “Do you have any questions?”
A tall brunette wearing one of those prairie-style dresses asks, “Are we allowed to eat and drink or is that all for show?”
“You are definitely allowed to enjoy the food and beverages,” Trina tells us. “Just not when there’s a camera catching a momentbetween you and one of the men. And remember, don’t chew and talk at the same time.”
A quirky redhead sticks her hand up. She’s wearing what appears to be a teal prom dress from the 1950s. “I hear some reality shows encourage you to drink a lot of alcohol so there’s more tension.”
Trina shakes her head. “Not us. You’re allowed one alcoholic beverage per hour, and you may not exceed three. Not only are you going to be driving later, but we want you to be seen in the best light. You’re here to find love, not drama.”
It’s a relief to hear her say that. While alcoholcangive you courage, it can also make you say and do things you’d rather not advertise to the world. I cite the time I drank three beers in a row before deciding the limbo bar at my parents’ BBQ wasn’tthatlow. Not only did I make a fool of myself, but I threw my back out, resulting in four trips to the chiropractor. A history of scoliosis is nothing to mess with.
Trina says, “If there aren’t any more questions, why don’t you all get to know each other while I go talk to the men?”
A blonde woman, a little taller than me, comes over to me and announces, “I’m terrified.”
“Me too.” I reach my hand out to her. “Paige Holland. I’m a seventh-grade math teacher and live here in Elk Lake.”
She smiles sweetly while shaking my hand. “Cami Hall. I’m a caterer from Chicago.”
“That must be fun.”
“It’s back-breaking work, but I love it. There’s nothing like making someone’s big event the best night of their life.”
I try not to cringe as I say, “You must do a lot of weddings.”
She nods. “That’s our bread and butter, except for holiday parties, of course.”
“Do you mind doing them?” I’ll know she’s lying if she says she doesn’t. There’s no unattached woman alive who wants to watch a bunch of brides and grooms celebrate night after night.
Cami’s eyes briefly shift from side-to-side like she’s makingsure there aren’t any cameras on her. Then she leans in and says, “It’s getting old.”
“I bet. I have a friend who owns a bridal boutique. She was getting ready to sell out to her mother when she met her boyfriend.”
“But she’s happy now?” she wants to know.
“Disgustingly so.”
“Good for her.” Cami shares, “Brides are the toughest customers to work for. They want the sun, the moon, and the stars, and all for a budget price.”
“Missy says the worst part of her job is when they buy a dress, but then have so many alterations made, it winds up looking nothing like the dress they fell in love with. Inevitably they blame her.”
Cami rolls her big brown eyes. “The bridesarebad, but the mothers-of-the-brides are the real nightmare. Not only do they want their daughters to have the best day of their lives, but a fair number of them use the reception to show off to all their friends and family. I have had to designate a person on my staff to stay near the MOB at all times just to keep her out of my way.” She adds, “Janine’s whole purpose is to make the MOB feel like she’s the most important person in the world.”
“The MOB …” I laugh loudly. “It sounds like a fitting title for any annoying mother-of-the-bride.”
“What’s your mom going to be like when you get married?” she wants to know.
I don’t have to think hard before saying, “She’ll be a piece of cake. At this point, all she wants is for me to find a nice guy and give her grandkids.”
“That’s what they all say,” Cami grumbles.
“Seriously, my mom wants my reception to be in the backyard, and she’s even hinted we should make it a potluck.”
