The types of weddings that were featured not just in all of the biggest bridal magazines, but on E! and in Us Weekly and People and Vogue and . . .
“And she wants you.”
It took Heather a full thirty seconds to register that Alexis was talking to her.
“Wait, what?” Heather asked incredulously.
Alexis’s eyes were twinkling in happiness, and Brooke was grinning at her, too.
“What do you mean, she wants me?” Heather asked, not daring to hope.
It’s not that Heather thought she lacked the skills. She knew she was good. She knew that Alexis knew she was good. But she was woefully short on experience.
Alexis had been giving her more and more responsibility in the last few months, but Heather didn’t have a mile-long resume of famous clients like Brooke and Alexis did. She’d assisted with a bunch of weddings, definitely, but she’d never had one to claim as hers, all hers.
But if she was understanding Alexis correctly . . .
Heather’s heart began to pound in excitement.
“She saw the pictures from the Monteith wedding in August on our website” Alexis was explaining, referring to the swanky but small black-tie wedding that Heather had put together for a middle-aged congressman and his second wife. “Danica said it was exactly the kind of class she was looking for. Insisted that whoever did that wedding do hers.”
“The Monteith wedding was yours,” Heather said hesitantly, even though she didn’t exactly want to remind her boss whose name had been attached to the project.
Alexis shook her head. “You know as well as I do that the cold turned laryngitis rendered me mostly useless. You stepped in and killed it. You know it, I know it, and now Danica Robinson knows it.”
Holy crap.
Never one to play it cool, Heather squealed again, doing a little happy dance before spreading her arms wide. “Seriously? Seriously! Group hug, everyone. Group hug up in here.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Brooke said as she stepped into Heather’s waiting embrace. “This is it. Your big break!”
“Brooke’s right,” Alexis said, half stepping into the circle and giving Heather something that resembled a pat on the shoulder. Alexis wasn’t one to show her affection physically. “I know you can do this, Heather. Let’s see how you do running the thing all by yourself, and then I think it’ll be time to talk about a change in your title, don’t you?”
Heather resisted the urge to give a little fist pump of victory. This was it. This was it. The chance to be the real deal.
“Does Jessie know?” Heather asked, referring to the Belles’ longtime receptionist, who was back at the office, manning the ever-ringing telephone.
“Yup. And she’s already ensured your favorite champagne is chilled and ordered Shorty’s for later.” It was a Belles’ tradition for every time they nabbed an especially significant client, and the wedding planner of choice always got to select the celebratory food and beverage.
“Shorty’s,” Heather said dreamily. “And she knows I like Whiz, right? Extra?”
Alexis rolled her eyes. “Yes, I think by now she knows your penchant for sprayable cheese on your Philly steak sandwiches.”
“You’re just mad because they don’t have a triple-cream brie option,” Heather said, giving Alexis a smacking kiss on the cheek. “And you better not have ordered a salad again.”
Instead of answering, Alexis held up a warning finger. “There is one teeny, tiny detail I should mention about the Robinson wedding.”
“Bring it,” Heather said.
At this point, nothing could bring her down. Not turkey bacon instead of the real thing, or a droopy chair bow, or even a noisy neighbor.
“Are you familiar with Heidi Rivera?”
“Sure. She’s Danica Robinson’s frenemy, currently trending toward the enemy side.” Heather made it her business to keep up with all the latest celebrity goings-on.
“Exactly. Heidi’s getting married at the Plaza in February.”
“So?”
“Soo . . . Danica also wants to get married at the Plaza. Before Heidi does.”
“Before?” Heather asked. “It’s October. How can she possibly think we’re going to pull a Plaza wedding together in less than four months?”