Jana Sterling.
“I’ll follow behind you two. Drive safe.”
The trip to our apartment takes no more than fifteen minutes, but before we part, Cameron dips down to plant a kiss on my sister. She sighs. Literally. I spin away to give them privacy and ignore the little jealous zing to my heart. I’m happy for Violet. Thrilled she’s in such a loving relationship.
One day, I promise myself, you’ll have this too.
“We have to cap the list at six hundred guests.” Violet pulls her readers off her nose and sets them down next to her notebook. The movements are smooth, unruffled, but I know better. Violet’s patience is waning.
“But there are six hundred and fifty people I want to invite.” Despite being a native Chicagoan, Jana Sterling’s cultured voice has no Midwestern twang. She makes no mention of her husband-to-be’s wishes because the man is not present. We’ve met the mother of the bride and the groom’s publicist. As the son of the mayor, Nathan Williams is quite busy with his many responsibilities—that came from Jana, the socialite-slash-art dealer.
Ever the client whisperer, my sister does not demonstrate a shred of annoyance. “I understand, Jana. Believe me, I do. This is the most important day of your and Nathan’s lives. Of course, you want to share it with as many of your loved ones as possible. However, the Starlight room simply cannot hold more than six hundred. We could look at the Stonewall Museum again, but if you decide to switch venues, you will forfeit the security deposit.”
I sit at Violet’s side, hiding behind a laptop while I pretend to take notes. Really, there’s nothing new to take notes of, aside from Jana’s desire to invite an additional fifty guests than what she had originally agreed upon. My job is the note taker and general support. Violet knows how to smooth over ruffled feathers and answer any questions the client may toss our way.
All the Botox injections make it hard to read Jana, but from the tiniest pinch of her lips, I think she is upset. “You know I hated Stonewall. Too low brow for the wedding of the year.” Somehow, she conveys displeasure and disgust in one drawn-out sigh. “The mayor won’t like this, but he would like it even less if his only son’s wedding was at Stonewall. All right, ladies. Do you have anything else for me?”
“The contract with the band is finalized. I’ve scheduled the first flower showing in two months’ time, and your hair and makeup team are scheduled to be on call for the entirety of your wedding week. Everything else is smooth sailing for the time being. Questions?” Jana already knows this. Both Violet and I sent her a status report yesterday with this information.
Jana flicks her to wrist to study the stainless steel timepiece on her wrist. “Nothing now. I’ll be in touch if anything comes up. Oh, next week I’d like to address the community service project we are tying in with the wedding. Forgive me for not staying to chat, but I’m in a rush to meet with a prospective buyer. Have a nice day, ladies.” Jana rises to her feet with us clamoring to stand as well. Jana lifts her Birkin bag (my sister told me it probably cost six figures!) to her wrist and strides out of the office to where her driver idles.
When the door is safely shut, my sister collapses into her chair with a groan. “That one is the definition of high maintenance.”
“Considering she is the only client who demands weekly meetings with an event still nine months away, I’d agree.” Leaving my sister at the conference table, I head to the kitchenette to brew us cappuccinos—a drink I never tried until moving to Chicago. Now, I am addicted.
“Geez Louise, that woman wears me out. Every week, I have to remind myself that this wedding is a massive event for Expertly Planned, and every week, she gets on my last nerve. Thanks,” she says when I place a mug in front of her.
“The good news is you’ve mastered the art of
“I’ll follow behind you two. Drive safe.”
The trip to our apartment takes no more than fifteen minutes, but before we part, Cameron dips down to plant a kiss on my sister. She sighs. Literally. I spin away to give them privacy and ignore the little jealous zing to my heart. I’m happy for Violet. Thrilled she’s in such a loving relationship.
One day, I promise myself, you’ll have this too.
“We have to cap the list at six hundred guests.” Violet pulls her readers off her nose and sets them down next to her notebook. The movements are smooth, unruffled, but I know better. Violet’s patience is waning.
“But there are six hundred and fifty people I want to invite.” Despite being a native Chicagoan, Jana Sterling’s cultured voice has no Midwestern twang. She makes no mention of her husband-to-be’s wishes because the man is not present. We’ve met the mother of the bride and the groom’s publicist. As the son of the mayor, Nathan Williams is quite busy with his many responsibilities—that came from Jana, the socialite-slash-art dealer.
Ever the client whisperer, my sister does not demonstrate a shred of annoyance. “I understand, Jana. Believe me, I do. This is the most important day of your and Nathan’s lives. Of course, you want to share it with as many of your loved ones as possible. However, the Starlight room simply cannot hold more than six hundred. We could look at the Stonewall Museum again, but if you decide to switch venues, you will forfeit the security deposit.”
I sit at Violet’s side, hiding behind a laptop while I pretend to take notes. Really, there’s nothing new to take notes of, aside from Jana’s desire to invite an additional fifty guests than what she had originally agreed upon. My job is the note taker and general support. Violet knows how to smooth over ruffled feathers and answer any questions the client may toss our way.
All the Botox injections make it hard to read Jana, but from the tiniest pinch of her lips, I think she is upset. “You know I hated Stonewall. Too low brow for the wedding of the year.” Somehow, she conveys displeasure and disgust in one drawn-out sigh. “The mayor won’t like this, but he would like it even less if his only son’s wedding was at Stonewall. All right, ladies. Do you have anything else for me?”
“The contract with the band is finalized. I’ve scheduled the first flower showing in two months’ time, and your hair and makeup team are scheduled to be on call for the entirety of your wedding week. Everything else is smooth sailing for the time being. Questions?” Jana already knows this. Both Violet and I sent her a status report yesterday with this information.
Jana flicks her to wrist to study the stainless steel timepiece on her wrist. “Nothing now. I’ll be in touch if anything comes up. Oh, next week I’d like to address the community service project we are tying in with the wedding. Forgive me for not staying to chat, but I’m in a rush to meet with a prospective buyer. Have a nice day, ladies.” Jana rises to her feet with us clamoring to stand as well. Jana lifts her Birkin bag (my sister told me it probably cost six figures!) to her wrist and strides out of the office to where her driver idles.
When the door is safely shut, my sister collapses into her chair with a groan. “That one is the definition of high maintenance.”
“Considering she is the only client who demands weekly meetings with an event still nine months away, I’d agree.” Leaving my sister at the conference table, I head to the kitchenette to brew us cappuccinos—a drink I never tried until moving to Chicago. Now, I am addicted.
“Geez Louise, that woman wears me out. Every week, I have to remind myself that this wedding is a massive event for Expertly Planned, and every week, she gets on my last nerve. Thanks,” she says when I place a mug in front of her.
“The good news is you’ve mastered the art of
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