Bombshell For The Boss: The Bride's Baby. Nicola MarshЧитать онлайн книгу.
The church warden was hoping for a donation for his roses and he was all ready with a bucket and shovel.’
‘You both got lucky, then.’
‘Too right. And, to put your mind totally at rest, the flowers were out of this world,’ Josie said, holding up her hand and ticking the items off one by one. ‘The choir were angelic. The food was amazing, those caterers are definitely a find. The string quartet, as far as I could tell—that is soooo not my kind of music—played in tune. Even the sun shone.’ Having run out of fingers, she shrugged. ‘What else is there?’
‘You want a list?’ Sylvie held up her own hand, ready to tick off the five legendary worst ever wedding disasters that every planner dreaded. Apart from the bride changing her mind days before the wedding.
Or the wedding planner losing it with the forsaken groom, she thought, forgetting the list as she placed her hand on the growing bulk of the baby she was carrying.
That was an item of gossip that would have made the story into a STORY and she came out in a cold sweat just thinking about what a meal Celebrity would make of it if they ever found out whose baby she was carrying.
Not that they hadn’t tried. Jeremy had been less than amused to be lined up as a possibility and had called her demanding she deny the rumours.
It was cruel not to, and maybe if he hadn’t behaved like such a pompous ass she’d have done it. Not that he’d actually changed, she realised. She was the one who’d done that, but only after wasting ten years …
‘The list?’ Josie prompted, looking at her a little oddly. She might not have believed the official version, that the single mother pregnancy had been planned using a ‘donor’. She hadn’t elaborated and Josie hadn’t pushed it. And, rising thirty with no partner and a ticking biological clock, even her closest friends had let it go without more than a slightly raised eyebrow.
‘Oh, right, the list …’
Before she could begin, the phone rang.
She reached back, glanced at the caller ID and, picking it up, said, ‘Hi, Laura. How are you?’
‘Pretty good, thanks, Sylvie, but, as always, I’m in need of a favour.’
‘Let me guess. You want an “SDS Event” for the silent auction at this year’s Pink Ribbon Club lunch?’
‘No …’ Then, ‘Well, yes, obviously, if you’re offering. We raised a bundle on that last year.’
‘Then it’s yours.’
‘That’s very generous. Thank you. I’ll just write that in …’ She paused, presumably to make a note of it.
‘So?’ Sylvie prompted. ‘What’s the favour?’
‘Oh, yes! It is a big one, although on this occasion I’m in a position to offer you something in return for your efforts.’
‘Oh?’ Laura sounded really excited but not missing the fact that she would be making an ‘effort’, Sylvie sat down and, pulling her notebook towards her, said, ‘Okay, let’s hear it.’
‘You’re not going to believe this, but I’ve just had a phone call from Celebrity magazine. They want to do a feature on the charity and they’re using the Spring Wedding Fayre we’re holding as a backdrop. They’ve even offered us a generous donation for our co-operation.’
‘They have?’ No wonder she was excited. ‘They usually only pay for exclusive coverage,’ she warned. ‘That won’t win you any friends with the local press. Willow Armstrong has been very supportive.’
‘I know, but this won’t affect local coverage. Celebrity are prepared to be generous because we’re pulling out all the stops for the Club’s tenth anniversary. That’s why I approached them in the first place. Your mother was always one of their favourites. All those wonderful parties …’
‘Yes …’
Throwing parties was something of a family tradition. Experience she’d put to profitable use when everything had gone belly-up.
‘So what do you want from me?’
‘Well, your mother founded the charity …’
‘Yes.’
‘And you are our Honorary President.’
Laura’s slow build-up was beginning to make her uneasy. ‘And?’
‘Well, it all just fits together so perfectly, don’t you see? Your mother’s parties. And now you’re the wedding planner at the top of every bride’s wish list.’
‘Event planner, Laura. Weddings are just one part of our business.’
‘I know, I know, but honestly they’ve come up with the most brilliant idea. One that I know you’re going to love.’
‘Really?’
When it came to some ‘brilliant idea’ concocted by the features editor of a gossip magazine, ‘love’ was unlikely to be her first reaction but Sylvie reserved judgement until she heard what it was.
‘Really. They’re going to feature a fantasy wedding, using our exhibitors. That’s going to be their exclusive.’
‘Oh, I see …’ Actually that was a good idea … ‘Well, well done, you.’ Then, ‘You want me to give you some ideas for the fantasy thing, is that it? I’ll be happy to—’
‘No, Sylvie, I want a little bit more than that.’ Laura could scarcely contain herself. ‘A lot more than that, actually. What they want is for you to use the Fayre’s exhibitors to create your own fantasy wedding!’
‘Mine? But I’m not getting married.’
Laura gave a little tut as if she were being particularly dim. ‘No, no, no … Don’t you see? You’ve organised so many fabulous weddings for other people that everyone will be agog to know what you’d choose for yourself.’
Oh, confetti!
The Celebrity features editor must have spotted her name on the letterhead and thought all her birthdays had come at once.
‘Bride, groom, two witnesses and the local register office?’ she offered hopefully.
Laura laughed, confident she was being teased. ‘I think Celebrity will want something a little more fairy tale than that!’
Oh, yes. Celebrity would want everything, up to and including her heart on her sleeve, which they were apparently ready to extract with a blunt knife. They couldn’t have been more obvious.
‘Just think what fun it will be,’ Laura continued. ‘Gorgeous clothes, fabulous food, all those special touches you’re so famous for. We’ve got some truly wonderful local exhibitors and you can totally let yourself go—’
‘Laura,’ she said, cutting in before this went any further. ‘I’m sorry, really, but I can’t do that.’
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Laura, stiff now, said, ‘I realise that there won’t be any big London names, Sylvie, but there’s no need to be quite that dismissive.’
Oh, good grief, she’d misunderstood. It wasn’t the exhibitors she was turning down. It was the whole nightmare scenario.
‘No …’ she began, but it was too late.
‘Your mother, if she were still with us—’
Sylvie lowered her head into her hand, knowing what was coming and helpless to stop it.
‘Lady Annika would be very disappointed to think that you’d let us down.’
No! No! No! Sylvie stuffed her fist into her mouth to stop the scream leaking out.
Josie,