Elly in Love (The Elly Series) (40 page)

Gemma tucked back her tiny lips. “I’m aware of Ms. Plumb’s tastes. But we can’t have something like that on our show. This is a major production, Ms. Jordan.”

Elly began separating out the centerpieces, which were cluttered into small bundles. “Lola’s entire life has been a production, Ms. Reynolds, and her wedding should be whatever she wants it to be. I never thought I would say this, but I’m glad that her original shipment of flowers didn’t make it. Those flowers weren’t Lola, those flowers were you. Lola isn’t a rare breed of lily of the valley or an expensive orchid from Thailand. You are. You are elegant and straightforward, down to your bones. I get it, I love those flowers. But Lola is wilder, and more down to Earth. These flowers,” she gestured to the van, which burst forth with local blooms, “are Lola. And she will love them. And so will your viewers, if they are the right kind of people.” She pushed past Gemma, who was crossing her arms and pouting. “Now, if you will please excuse me, I have to hurry and get everything set up inside, so that I can get myself ready for the wedding.”

Gemma slipped her tortoiseshell glasses down her nose and was looking at her clipboard while tapping her foot. “What do you mean, get ready?”

“Oh, I’m attending the wedding, didn’t you know?”

She looked up at Elly. “You must be joking. A vendor has never gone to the wedding, especially one of this size, and you won’t exactly, you know, fit in. Her guests are Hollywood’s elite. George Clooney is coming.”

Elly turned on Gemma. “I will be going, because Lola invited me.”

Gemma’s wide eyes looked confused. “But,” she sputtered, “who will watch the flowers?”

At this, Elly gave a sharp laugh. “They are flowers, not children. They won’t run off if we don’t watch them. I will have a member of my team here tonight to keep an eye on things, but I plan on enjoying myself. I’m sure I’ll see you later. Now, if you will please move out of my way, I have a wedding to set up.” She sidestepped Gemma and left her standing by the van, looking bewildered. Elly grinned to herself as she walked in the door, past the lenses of a dozen cameras that had surely just caught her discussion with Gemma. She was somehow sure that their conversation wouldn’t make it past the cutting-room floor.

The floral set-up for the reception took four hours and nine people working until their hands, riddled with small cuts, cramped up and stopped working. After setting the last flower on the cake, Elly looked down at her pink rubber watch with a grimace. Not only would she not have time to go home, shower, and change for the ceremony like she had planned, but if she wanted to have a prayer of making the ceremony, she would have to leave right now. Her dress was in the car, but the rest of everything she needed was at home.
It wouldn’t work.
There was no way.

Snarky Teenager, who had arrived at the Fox about two hours after she had, saw Elly’s look of concern and sashayed over to her. “Go.”

“I can’t. I won’t make it. It’s fine, I’ll just catch Lola at the reception.”

Snarky Teenager grabbed a topiary out of Elly’s hand.

“Well, that was rude.”

“Go. I can handle it.”

Elly looked up into her brown eyes.

“Trust me.” Her bottom lip turned out. “Trust me.”

Elly blinked and couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. “Okay.” She turned and walked out of the ballroom, past the cameras, past the gathering photographers (eleven, at her last count), past the archway made of twisting almond branch and dripping white daffodils, and past a vase taller than she was that swirled with tiny silver fish. Jogging now, Elly reached the van and climbed into the back, shutting the door behind her. It was sweltering inside. As she reached for her dress, she noticed the bag had been smeared with dusty white pollen during transport, and Elly prayed that it hadn’t gotten on the neck of the dress. She ducked her head forward and pulled her still-damp curly hair up into a bun with a few bobby pins that she had in her tiny delivery purse. Looking in the rearview mirror, she arranged the bun so that it looked messy on purpose. Or maybe it was just messy.
Whatever. Crap, crap, crap.

Elly dumped her purse out on the passenger seat. Lip gloss and a small compact were the only pieces of makeup that it contained. Blasting the AC on her face, Elly hastily applied some powder to her nose and cheeks, which were flushed and shiny. The lip gloss added a subtle pink tint to her lips and she popped a mint into her mouth. She looked at herself in the mirror, her bright-blue eyes staring back at her, smeared with a bit of mascara. Awesome. She cautiously looked out the window before pulling her stinky shirt and yoga pants off. She reached for the dress.
Good thing you grabbed the dress … and nothing else,
she chastised herself. When she had told Kim that she had been invited to the actual wedding, Kim had showed up the next day with a dress and a big smile on her face, unwilling to let Elly look at it. “It’s a surprise.”

Here in the hottest van in the entire universe, Elly let out a gasp when she unzipped the plastic. It wasn’t just a dress—it was a
gown
. Draped navy linen drew high over her neck and crisscrossed in the back, which would show Elly’s bare shoulders. A tiny band of jewels circled under her breasts, tapering in the dress at the top, but leaving the bottom to flow freely. The navy slowly cascaded down into a billowy skirt that hit Elly right at her feet. “Kim, you are the best!” murmured Elly as she pulled the impossibly soft fabric over her head. Of course it fit her perfectly. Of course.

She looked around for shoes. “Oh no … no….” Elly spun around. There were no shoes.
Of course. OF COURSE
. Here she was, wearing the most-gorgeous dress she had ever seen, and she only had one pair of shoes. Her Crocs. Hesitantly, Elly slipped them on under her dress. At least they were beige she told herself. Right? She nudged a toe out. The sight of a rubber shoe poking out from under the finest silk was physically repulsive
. Not that she had much choice.
Elly shrugged.
This was her outfit. Better get used to it.

Moving carefully so she didn’t step on the dress, Elly climbed over the passenger seat and into the driver’s seat. Just the effort of getting dressed in a hot van had made her even more tired, and for a minute, Elly allowed herself the fantasy of going home and retreating to her bedroom with a cold glass of milk and a handful of Oreos. The fantasy didn’t last. What if Lola needed her, the way she had the other night? She was Elly’s client, and that was the promise of Posies to each and every bride—that they would make their day beautiful. If it meant smacking drugs out of her hand while she adjusted her bouquet, so be it. This was Lola’s day, not Elly’s, and not Gemma’s.

Blowing a curl of hair out of her eyes, Elly gunned the engine of her impossibly sexy van and began rumbling her way back to the farmhouse that had been made to look like a hotel.

Three men in impeccable white linen suits were shutting the door when Elly arrived, disheveled and hot. She practically ran for the door, and then slowed to a dignified walk (she hoped) and said, “I am also a celebrity, here for the celebrity wedding.”

The men stopped her and expressed disbelief that Elly, Lola’s florist, had actually been invited to the event. Finally, Elly got the hulking blond beefcake to call inside, and it took ten minutes, but finally, they cracked the door for her. A gruff man grabbed her arm when she turned the corner. “The ceremony has started. I will take you to where you can watch without disturbing the event.”

“I set up the event,” grumbled Elly, but she understood. The man led her around to a small alcove that overlooked the entire ceremony and put out a folding chair adorned with navy ribbons.
Even the folding chairs were decorated within an inch of their life. Oh, Gemma.
Elly was impressed.

Elly had barely gotten settled and stopped sweating when the strains of the Beatles’ “I Want to Hold Your Hand” blared through the farmhouse’s ancient wood walls. Somehow, Elly Jordan, a measly florist, had actually scored the best seat in the house. Her seat was positioned so she could see everything underneath the fluttery draped fabric of navy and white that blew slightly in the cool breeze that was filling the farmhouse. Flowers cascaded from every surface. The aisle had remained stunning, and Elly was thankful that a blissfully ignorant production assistant hadn’t ruined everything. Cameras were everywhere; Elly counted at least twenty from her perch, their lenses trained on every possible angle.

The prelude ended and the bridal procession began. Lola’s thirteen bridesmaids (who were all supermodels, as far as Elly could tell) began filing in from the altar’s sides, each wearing a stunning chiffon dress in bright fuchsia. Snarky Teenager had designed each of their bouquets a bit differently, so that each one carried elements of the other ones. Each flower arrangement featured a single highlighted flower: ranunculus, delphinium, dahlia, veronica, scabiosa, and zinnia. They looked incredible together and made a gorgeous palette of pinks, blues, creams, and whites at the front. A tiny flower girl danced up the aisle wearing miniature navy aviator sunglasses and promptly destroyed her white zinnia pomander, which made Elly bite her lip in exasperation.
Two hours of work down the drain….
All was forgotten when the strains of Vincent Herring’s “Stars Fell in Alabama” began and the crowed rose to their feet to see Lola. Half of them were here anticipating a nervous breakdown, of course, hoping to have something to spill in the latest magazine.

If so, noted Elly with a huge grin that stretched all the way across her face, they would be sorely disappointed. Lola was beyond stunning. Clutching the arm of her father, she moved up the aisle like an ethereal ghost, and Elly felt all the air in the room sucked out by her magnetic presence.
Ah, there was the movie star that she had been waiting for.
Lola’s Valentino wedding dress wrapped tightly around her slender frame. A piece of delicate lace twisted down Lola’s bare back, connecting to the lower half of the dress, where it turned out into a lace overlay that covered the satiny fabric draping down her hips. The front of the dress was a lacy cut of white fabric that draped squarely down her shoulders and ended at her waist. The dress was capped off by an enormous veil that stretched twenty yards behind her. This dress, Elly knew instantly, would be replicated in dress shops across the country.

When Lola saw the aisle, Elly saw her start to cry. She clutched her bouquet closely to her chest and waded into the ankle-deep petals. Clouds of multi-colored petals drifted around her feet as she walked, and the beautiful swirls that Elly had created became a stunning mix of pinks and whites that trailed in her veil as Lola waded toward her groom. She looked to the front, where Joe Keats, looking dapper and robust in a gray windsor suit, was becoming completely undone as Lola approached him. He bit his fist and then brought it down to his waist, tears streaming freely down his face as he reached for her. Unable to wait for her to make it to him, Joe took a few steps down the aisle, his arms open for Lola. They both laughed as she reached for him and he kissed her hand with a passion that Elly had only known once, a passion she had seen in Keith’s eyes. When she saw them clasp their hands together and make their way to the altar, she knew that Lola was going to be fine. She was a good but damaged girl, and Joe was the kind of man who could love the damage right out of her. True love could do that. With a happy shout, Joe picked up Lola at the waist and spun her around, kissing her hard. The pastor gestured for them to settle down and the crowd erupted into applause, their joy contagious to all. Elly wiped happy tears away, thankful that she had been able to witness such a special moment.

When she sat back down, Elly felt a hand on her shoulder as the ceremony began. Gemma stood behind her. “It all seems to have turned out. I’m surprised, but pleased.” She watched Joe and Lola, crying with happiness at the front. “You Americans sure do have a fondness for over-emoting.”

Elly turned back to the ceremony. “I’m sure you will be over-emoting tonight when your advertising dollars roll in for this episode.”

Gemma laughed, an actual deep laugh that sounded totally unlike the woman she had known up until now. “Oh, indeed I will. And, I must say, the flowers turned out beautifully. It pains me to say it, but you were right about the design of it all.”

Elly patted her hand and turned back to the ceremony. “Well, the rest of it was you. And look how wonderful—”

Gemma’s walkie-talkie blared. “Gemma, we have some party crashers at the back door. Can you come …?”

“Gotta go!” Gemma barked and left Elly alone in her alcove to watch the ceremony, which was perfect from beginning to end. Joe read a terrible poem he’d written for Lola, Jude Law read from Corinthians, and finally, Lola’s childhood pastor gave a message of hope and commitment that could stir even the most bitter soul. The vows were sealed, the candles lit, and then it was time to pronounce them husband and wife. The crowd jumped to their feet, a thousand camera phones flashing as Joe raised his new wife’s hand above his head like a champion. Lola followed her hand up and Elly saw her eyes focus on Elly’s alcove, far above her head. Elly waved and clapped. Lola gave her a huge smile and a small wave before Joe swept her up in his arms and carried her down the aisle.

Her chest buzzing with joy, Elly was happy to let herself be swept up in their story, even while knowing that this wouldn’t be
her
ending. She quietly gathered her purse and snuck out a back entrance, almost stepping on someone’s foot on her way out the door. She looked up into the eyes of talk show host Chloe Britt, the girl who had been the primary cause of Lola’s decline. Chloe was a mess. Her mascara was smudged under her eyes, and her shaking hand held a nubby cigarette. Elly stared at her like a deer in headlights for a moment before recovering. Chloe cleared her throat and that signature sultry voice purred out. “You’re her friend, right? Lola’s?”

Elly nodded, unsure what to do in the moment. “Tell her congrats for me. Please. I just wanted to see her. She looks happy. You’ll tell her, yeah?”