"The odds of the clerk telling you anything would be pretty slim, since most of the store's clients prefer the ring be seen only on their wedding day," she answered. "I know a little bit about these things, you know." She tapped the digital planner in her hand, the way she'd seen Grace Taylor assert herself on more than one occasion in her office.
The shop door opened and a solemn store representative surveyed her. "Can I help you, ma'am?" she asked.
Gwendolen straightened her blazer. "If you have a designer available, then yes. I'm interested in seeing some of your latest designs." As the clerk stepped aside, she entered the shop.
Now what? She hadn't thought past the point of gaining access and not being mistaken for her lowly assistant status. But she needed something better if she wanted to attempt to see Julie's design–and being the wedding planner wasn't the best idea.
"Are you looking for something special, Ma'am?" asked the clerk.
Gwen toyed with the strap on her bag. "A gentleman's wedding ring, actually. My friend Mrs. Frobisher recommended your work. You did design her husband-to-be's ring, correct?" She vaguely remembered seeing the firm's name on the Frobisher-Lewis file at the office.
"We were indeed," the clerk assured her. "We have some excellent selections in the display case over here." She moved to the counter. "What size is your fiancé’s finger?"
"Oh, well…" Gwen began. Then felt an arm drape itself over her shoulders.
"Really, something this expensive, honey?" Ryan asked. "I think a simple band would be enough. Maybe with a little engraving." He flashed her a warm smile as she turned towards him.
"Do you have anything new in your design department?" she asked the clerk. Modifying her voice with honeyed tones, she added, "Price isn't an object, of course. Something a little modern, a unique design. Only the best for my fiancé."
Ryan's fingers trailed along her shoulder in a careless gesture that made her shiver. The clerk beamed at them as if they were young lovers in the park.
"How long have you two been engaged?" she asked.
"Six months," Ryan answered. "Can you believe it? It seems like a week to me." Gwendolen let out a nervous laugh, trying to seem more like a bride to be.
"I can see that he can hardly wait for the big day to steal a kiss," the clerk teased.
The wedding planner blushed deeply, wondering how many overly-demonstrative couples the clerk had witnessed draped over each other. As if to make the case for their engagement, Ryan reached over and gently tucked aside the strand of hair that kept escaping from her updo. His fingers brushing against the golden strands made her knees wobble slightly.
"I think we have something special that might interest you," the clerk continued. "A new line of simple bands with small stones inset in the gold." She opened a case and removed a series of wedding bands lying on red cushions.
Gwendolen glimpsed a band off to the side in a velvet box, engraved with a series of twining vines like the ones Mrs. Harlett had shown her in Julie's sketch.
"What about that one?" she said. "I love the design."
The clerk smiled sympathetically. "Sorry, but that design is one-of-a-kind," she answered. "I'm afraid it was customized for someone who prefers it to remain unique."
"I see," said Gwendolen. She touched the rings on the red cushions. "Well, these are quite attractive as well." She lifted one and pretended to inspect it against Ryan's finger.
"Slip it on," he whispered. At the sight of confusion in her eyes, he added, "It makes it more convincing."
She let the ring slide over his knuckle, her fingers wrapped around his hand. The touch was perfectly innocent, but her own tingled with longing as his skin brushed hers.
"A perfect fit," the clerk declared.
It would be. If only he weren't someone else's fiancé. Her eyes met his dark ones in a glance, then fluttered closed for a moment, picturing a far different version of herself, with a white dress instead of a frumpy assistant's sweater, a handsome man with a lopsided smile looking at her with longing.
"Is that the one you like?" The clerk's voice roused her out of the split-second daydream.
Fumbling with the band, she slipped it from Ryan's hand. "Perhaps. Of course, I'll need time to consider it." She placed it gently onto the cushion again. "I'll be back," she said, giving the clerk a smile before moving towards the door.
Outside on the steps, she gathered herself with a deep breath. Forget about that moment, forget about those dark eyes. That was the kind of mistake that a legend like Grace Taylor would never make.
She felt Ryan's presence as he exited the shop and turned towards him with a forced smile. "Thanks for your help in there. I think we pulled it off."
"Perfectly," he answered. "I think Julie will be satisfied that her ring is safe after our top-secret spy mission." He followed along beside her as she moved away from the doors and the clerk's curious gaze.
"I assume you let Julie see the ring you chose instead of keeping it secret," she guessed. "Was it when she dropped off the design here?" She imagined that Julie probably selected it herself–or maybe her mother did.
To her surprise, he looked embarrassed. "I didn't select Julie's ring from here," he answered. "Being a web designer doesn't bring in a salary big enough for this kind of place. So I went with something a little more simple." He slid his hands into his pockets again.
"Price tags don't matter, you know," she answered. "I'm sure she knows how you feel, no matter the size of the stone involved."
"Maybe," he answered. "But sometimes I'm afraid she'll miss the lifestyle she's always known. Her high school graduation gift cost more than the first car I bought." He motioned for a cab trolling for customers. "I could see a little disappointment when she saw the size of the diamond in the box."
Gwen offered him a smile of sympathy. "I'm sure she thought it was perfect," she answered softly.
The cab pulled up to the curb and he opened the door. Reluctantly, she climbed inside and let him close it. As he slipped the driver a few bills and gave him directions, she glanced through the window, studying his face closely.
How could Julie feel anything other than lucky? She had someone willing to give her the world, even if it was only a tiny stone in a gold band. The cab pulled away from the curb, forcing her to turn her head in order to watch Ryan walk away, his eyes cast downward towards the sidewalk.
*****
"Thank you," breathed Mrs. Harlett. "You are a lifesaver, dear. Julie hasn't been able to concentrate on anything at all with that ring on her mind." She was relaxing in her hotel room in a silk robe, sipping a cup of herbal tea. Julie was nowhere to be seen, apparently still enjoying a massage in the hotel's luxury spa.
"You're welcome," Gwendolen answered. She perched on the edge of an armchair, keeping her ankles crossed in a show of elegant style and posture a la Grace Taylor. "Now, about the flowers. I called a premier florist and arranged–"
"Oh, the flowers. I did ask you to look at those arrangements for me, didn't I?" Mrs. Harlett chimed in. "The sketches are over there, including a few made by a friend of mine, a budding horticulturist, if you will. She crossed these streaked hyacinth blossoms with a buttercup yellow and the result was stunning."
"Did you ask her yet, Mother?" The room door opened to admit Julie in a fluffy terrycloth robe, toweling her dark hair. Mrs. Harlett stared at her daughter blankly for a moment.
"What?" asked Gwendolen, feeling a slight twinge of apprehension. Julie and her mother exchanged glances.
"It's something rather delicate, I'm afraid," said Mrs. Harlett. "More than the ring, really..."
"It's about the best man," said Julie. She poured a cup of tea from a pot on the table and seated herself across from Gwendolen.
"You see, I need you to fire him." She took a sip from the cup cradled in her hands.
Gwendolen stared at her, momentarily taken aback. "Fire him?" she echoed. "Are you sure that's what you mean?" She released a little laugh of confusion, to cov
er the awkward silence in the room.
"It is," Julie answered. "Ryan asked this friend of his, a coworker, really. I know they spend a lot of time together, but Dave is such a bore. He's got this annoying habit of whistling through his teeth, he's never used a dessert spoon in his life." She glanced guiltily at the carpet. "He's just completely inappropriate, really. So I want him out."
"It's a little bit of an awkward subject," Mrs. Harlett added in a hushed voice. "She can't ask Ryan to give up his friend and this...young man, apparently, would never dream of refusing."
"So you want me to persuade him to give it up on his own," Gwendolen answered slowly.
"If it's at all possible," answered Mrs. Harlett. "If you could just convince him that it's not his kind of event, really. He could still come to the wedding, of course–just make an excuse about being unable to serve as best man."
"My cousin's already agreed to take over," said Julie. "Ryan knows him, they met at soccer camp years ago. So everything's arranged up to this point."
"His number's on the contact sheet we gave you at the first meeting," Mrs. Harlett added. She offered Gwen a toothy smile. "If you can handle it, of course."
Gwendolen drew a deep breath. "Of course.”
*****
Dave's cell phone rang several times before he answered it. "Pritchard," he said, in a voice muffled by chewing sounds. Gwen hesitated a moment before speaking.
"David?" she said. "This is–" she caught herself before saying her own name, "– Grace Taylor, the wedding planner for Ryan and Julie."
"Wow, really?" Dave's smacking sounds made her imagine a sack of potato chips being devoured on the other end of the phone. "So what's up?"
"We need to talk," she answered. "Are you free this afternoon?"
The restaurant where Dave agreed to meet her was a barbecue joint. Not the perfect place for a pressed business skirt, she noticed, as her cab pulled into the parking lot. For a moment, she wished she'd transformed herself back into Gwendolen Lynch the sweater-clad assistant before leaving her client's hotel.
In a corner located close to the blaring jukebox, sat the man she assumed was Ryan's choice for best man. He was short and heavyset, clad in a wrinkled business shirt and pocket protector that screamed "tech job", as he sampled a buffalo wings appetizer.
"Hi," she said, sliding into the booth. "Gwe –I mean, Grace Taylor. We spoke on the phone about Ryan?" She held out her hand as a look of comprehension registered on his face.
"Sure," he said, taking her fingers in a strong grip. "You want something to eat? They've got great cheddar fries, baked potato skins, you name it."
"No thanks, actually," she answered. "I don't want to keep you too long. I know you must be busy, so I'll try to be quick."
He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I don't have anything important. This is where I spend most of my after-work hours. When there's not a Star Trek marathon on TV, that is."
She laughed, but couldn't help feeling that he wasn't joking. He must have noticed the look on her face, because his features shifted into a sheepish grin.
"Not many 'cool' people hang out with computer geeks, as I'm sure you know. It can be a lonely life, unless you end up lucky like Ryan did." He pulled apart a greasy strip from the basket.
"You mean finding Julie," said Gwendolen.
Dave nodded. "Ever since they met, she sucked him into a new world. He went from a guy who played Cranium on his lunch hour with a bunch of techies to formal dinner parties. I'm sure you see a lot of that in your line of work. I mean, guys and girls getting hitched, starry eyes and all that."
She glanced away from him, feeling guilt surge in her chest. How could she tell him the truth about what she was doing here? Clearly, he cared about Ryan as a friend. Nothing about this request would make sense to him.
"Dave, there's something you should know about the wedding," she said. "I know you're good friends with Ryan. But they've requested a formal ceremony, a certain tone in the proceedings. And that means they want the wedding party to reflect that." She took a deep breath. "That's why I'm here to ask you to step down as best man."
Dave stared at her. "Are you serious?"
"I'm sorry," she said. "I know it's wrong. Ryan chose you and there were good reasons why he did. There's just ..."
"You don't have to say it," he answered, interrupting her. "I know what you mean." His voice was sharp, filled with hurt. "I get it, I get it. It's me. I don't fit with the new look, that's all." He wiped his fingers on a napkin, avoiding her eyes.
"Don't be angry at Ryan," she pleaded. "It wasn't his idea. Me coming here like this, I mean..."
He shrugged his shoulders. "But he was okay with cutting me from the ceremony, huh?"
She shook her head. "Not that, either. In fact, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know anything about this. It’s just that Mrs. Harlett is very particular–”
“Sure, sure,” he cut her off. “Julie’s mom. I’ve heard she can be pretty controlling.”
That’s putting it mildly. “I'm truly sorry about this,” she said, rising from the table. No need to drag out something this awkward. “You're still invited to the wedding. As a friend," she added.
He nodded. "Thanks.” Although she could tell he was far from thrilled by the idea. Glancing over her shoulder as she left, she could see him slumped in the booth, brooding over his appetizer.
She pulled out her cell phone in the parking lot and dialed Mrs. Harlett's number. "It's all taken care of," she said, the moment her client's voice answered.
"You're such a lifesaver," breathed Mrs. Harlett.
*****
"It's not supposed to be amaryllis, it's supposed to be hyacinths!" Julie's voice was reaching a frenzied pitch. "We discussed this a thousand times, Mother. And we agreed on it."
"I specifically heard you say you disliked hyacinths! Ryan will back me up on this one–Ryan, where are you?" Mrs. Harlett rose from her chair and moved towards the door. Slumped on the sofa of the hotel suite, Julie stared at the carpet like it held the secrets of the ancients.
"Maybe it's time I called the florist," Gwendolen began. She re-crossed her legs for the thirtieth time in the last hour's conversation about wedding details. They were supposed to be discussing the cake's design and delivery, but the age-old battle of the floral arrangements was well underway.
"If you could just excuse us for a little while, Ms. Taylor." Mrs. Harlett said. She opened the door and allowed Gwendolen to slip past her before closing it again.
"Do not suggest that the flower choice was somehow my fault ..." the sound of her client's voice was muffled by the suite's heavy oak door. Releasing a long sigh, Gwendolen moved away from the noise.
She tread the carpeted hallway towards the elevator, her fingers struggling to pull the digital planner from her purse. Life was certainly easier, if less glamorous, when she carried an oversized leather granny purse.
She flipped through the daily appointments in the planner, switching from the bakery sample runs of Gwen the assistant to the hectic day of Grace the wedding planner.
As she rounded the corner to the elevator, she spotted a figure seated on the carpeted hotel steps. Ryan, his elbows resting on his knees, his posture slumped. She paused, her finger poised over the elevator button. Moving away from the doors, she stepped closer to him.
"I think Mrs. Harlett is looking for you," she said, offering him a friendly smile. "Something about flowers."
He glanced at her, his expression tired. "Thanks, but I'd rather hide out here." His phone lay on the steps beside him, Dave's name highlighted on the contacts list.
With a sigh, he stuffed the phone in his pocket. "Why didn't she ask me to take care of it?" He shook his head. "I thought this one thing was mine to handle and if she wanted to make the decision…" His voice trailed off in frustration.
Gwen bit her lip. "I think she didn't know how to tell you. I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault.” He was quiet for a
moment as he snapped his phone shut. Glancing at Gwen, he curved his mouth in a half-hearted smile."So where are you off to? A coffee run for my future mother-in-law? A quest for the perfect pastel candies for the reception?"
"Actually, I'm off to a balloon farm," she answered, stuffing the planner into her bag somewhere between her mini makeup kit and extra hairpins.
"A what?" he asked, staring at her in confusion.
She smiled, realizing how her statement sounded to outsiders. "It's a place where hot air balloons are available for rent; I'm supposed to test one for your departure for the reception. After all, if you guys are planning to avoid the traditional limo ride, you have to have some transport."
He groaned. "Julie's idea. I was sort of hoping she'd settle for a white horse."
"Are you much of a horseman?" she called over her shoulder, making her way down the steps. In her head, she was picturing him in a tunic and feathered hat, sweeping a white-gowned Julie into the saddle before him. Only Julie was blonde in her imagination, and doing her best to toss a dowdy old sweater out of the picture.
"How about a ride?" Ryan's question froze her in mid-step, a scarlet sheet spreading across her cheeks. She noticed a similar shade on his own as she turned towards him, seeing him a few steps above her.
"I mean, in my car. To the balloon farm," he continued, "I mean, unless you mind me tagging along to see how this thing works." He averted his eyes from hers, as if embarrassed by something. Her own cheeks were still warm from the previous mistake.
"Sure," she said. "I would love one." He came downstairs to join her, his arm brushing against her as he opened the door.
She tried to tell herself she agreed for the sake of saving cab fare on her meager credit card budget. She tried to pretend it was just for the company after days of loneliness as the prestigious Grace Taylor.
But she knew that wasn't the case, as she settled into the seat beside Ryan. The sight of his crooked smile as glanced her way melted her heart.
She was falling in love with the groom.
*****
"Lovin' the view up there?" the balloon operator called. "The red and white stripe is our most popular rental–other than the smiley face, that is."