The Wedding Planner and the CEO. Alison RobertsЧитать онлайн книгу.
The entertainment, decorations and catering are locked in. Clarissa is thrilled with her dress and the photographers are over the moon by the backdrops the venue offers. We even have the best local band playing live for the dancing. You must have heard of Diversion?’
Rafe’s breath came out in an unexpected huff. Another connection? This was getting weird.
‘It was all going perfectly until this morning, when Clarissa decided they had to have fireworks to finish the night. She had a complete meltdown when I told her that it was probably impossible to organise at such late notice.’
Rafe had dealt with some meltdowns from clients so he knew how difficult it could be, especially when your reputation might be hanging by a thread. Maybe Penelope was reliving some of the tension and that was what was giving her voice that almost imperceptible wobble. A hint of vulnerability that tugged on something deep in his gut with an equally almost imperceptible ‘ping’.
‘When it got to the stage that she was threatening to pull the plug on the whole wedding, I said I’d make some enquiries.’
‘So you came straight to the top?’ The corner of Rafe’s mouth lifted. ‘Have to say your style is impressive, Ms Collins.’
He’d done the same thing himself more than once.
‘I know I’m asking a lot and it probably is impossible but at least I can say I tried and...and maybe you can point me in the direction of an alternative company that might be able to do at least a reasonable job.’
There was a moment’s silence as Rafe wondered how to respond. Yes, he could send her hunting for another company but nobody reputable would take this on.
‘Have you any idea what’s involved with setting up a professional fireworks show?’
She shook her head. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, too, and the childlike gesture of trepidation was enough to make Rafe wonder just how much of her look was a front. And what was she trying to hide?
‘Long-term planning is essential for lots of reasons. We have to have meetings with the client to discuss budgets and the style and timing of the show.’
‘The budget won’t be an issue.’
‘Are you sure? We’re talking over a thousand pounds a minute here.’
‘I’m sure.’ She sounded confident but he’d seen the movement of her throat as she’d swallowed hard.
‘The show gets fired to music. That has to be chosen and then edited and correlated to the pyrotechnic effects. The soundtrack has to be cued and programmed into a computer.’
Once upon a time, Rafe had done all these jobs himself. Long, hard nights of getting everything perfect on an impossible schedule. The memories weren’t all bad, though. That kind of hard work had got him where he was today.
‘The fireworks have to be chosen and sourced. The site has to be mapped and the display layout planned for firing points. There are safety considerations and you have to allow for a fallout range that could be over a hundred metres. You have to get permits. And this all has to happen before you start setting up—fusing all the fireworks together in the correct sequence, putting electric matches in each fuse run, and then testing the whole package to make sure it’s going to work.’
‘I understand.’ There was a stillness about her that suggested she was preparing to admit defeat. ‘And you were right. I had no idea how much work was involved. I’m sorry...’ She got to her feet. ‘It was very kind of you to take the time to explain things.’
The door to the office opened as she finished speaking. Melissa poked her head around the edge.
‘They’re waiting for you in the boardroom, Mr Edwards.’
Rafe got to his feet, too. Automatically, he held out his hand and Penelope took it. It was a clasp rather than a shake and, for some bizarre reason, Rafe found himself holding her hand for a heartbeat longer than could be considered professional.
Long enough for that odd ping of sensation he’d felt before to return with surprising force. Enough force to be a twist that couldn’t be dismissed. A memory of what it was like to be struggling and then come up against a brick wall? Or maybe articulating all the steps of the challenge of delivering a show had reminded him that he’d been able to do all that himself once. Every single job that he now employed experts in the field to do on his behalf.
He could do it again if he wanted. Good grief, he ran one of the biggest pyrotechnic companies in the world—he could do whatever he wanted.
And maybe...he wanted to do this.
He had everything he’d always dreamed of now but this wasn’t the first time he’d felt that niggle that something was missing. Wasn’t the best way to find something to retrace your footsteps? Going back to his roots as a young pyrotechnician would certainly be retracing footsteps that were long gone. Had he dropped something so long ago he’d forgotten what it actually was?
‘There is one way I might be able to help,’ he found himself saying.
‘A personal recommendation to another company?’ Hope made her eyes shine. They had a dark outline to their pupils, he noticed. Black on brown. A perfect ring to accentuate them. Striking.
‘No. I was thinking more in terms of doing it myself.’
Her breath caught in an audible gasp. ‘But...all those things you said...’
‘They still stand. Whether or not it’s doable would depend on cooperation from your clients with any restrictions, such as what fireworks we happen to have in stock. The site survey and decisions on style and music would have to be done immediately. Tomorrow.’
‘I could arrange that.’ That breathless excitement in her voice was sweet. ‘What time would you be available?’
‘It’s Saturday. We don’t have any major shows happening and I make my own timetable. What time would your clients be available?’
‘We’ll be on site all day. They have a dance lesson in the morning and we’re doing a ceremony rehearsal in the afternoon. Just come anytime that suits. Would you like me to email you a map?’
‘That won’t be necessary. By coincidence, I’m familiar with the property, which is another point in favour of pulling this off. The site survey wouldn’t be an issue.’
* * *
The massive image of exploding fireworks was impossible to miss as Penelope left the office but it was more than simply a glorious advertisement now. For a heartbeat, it felt like she was actually there—seeing them happen and hearing the bone-shaking impact of the detonations.
Excitement, that was what it was. Ralph Edwards might look like a cowboy but he was going to help her get the biggest break she could ever have. Clarissa’s wedding was going to finish with the kind of bang that would have her at the top of any list of desirable wedding planners. On her way to fame and fortune and a lifelong career that couldn’t be more perfect for her. She would be completely independent and then she’d be able to decide what else she might need in her life.
Who else, maybe...
Thanks to the traffic, the drive back to Loxbury was going to take well over two hours, which meant she would be up very late tonight, catching up with her schedule. She could use the time sensibly and think ahead about any potential troubleshooting that might be needed.
Or she could think about fireworks instead. The kind of spectacular shapes and colours that would be painted against the darkness of a rural sky but probably seen by every inhabitant of her nearby hometown and have images reproduced in more than one glossy magazine.
As the miles slid by—despite an odd initial resistance—Penelope also found herself thinking about the tousled cowboy she would have to be working with in the coming week to make this happen. He had to be the most unlikely colleague she could have imagined. Someone she would