Page 17 of Before You Say I Do
“More staff at the Montgomery household?” Gloria held up her pinkie as she ate another chip. In her smart M&S trousers and shirt, she didn’t look that dissimilar to Marjorie. However, as soon as she opened her mouth, the differences were immense. That, plus Gloria’s proud mop of Scottish red hair.
Abby took a deep breath and looked Mum direct in the eye. “Not quite. Jordan’s come in to be my professional bridesmaid. She’s there to help me out before the wedding, and on the wedding day. Right up to the altar.”
“What do you mean, professional bridesmaid?” Gloria’s furrows deepened.
Abby knew it sounded mad at first. “She’s posing as my bridesmaid so she can be there for all the key events and truly help me out. And she is, believe me. She’s lovely.”
She’d chatted with Jordan that very morning and had come off the call uplifted. Jordan had a certain way about her, something Abby couldn’t quite pin down. “The thing is, because she is my bridesmaid, we’re telling everyone she’s a long-lost friend from my childhood. One who moved away when I was nine, and we’ve just got back in touch via social media. So if you could play along if that comes up in conversation, that would be great.” She knew it was a lot to take in, but she hoped her mum would agree.
Mum paused, a chip close to her mouth. “A wedding planner and a professional bridesmaid with a whole fake back story? Things really have changed since my day.” She patted Abby’s knee. “But you seem more relaxed. If that’s Jordan’s doing, well done her. I’ll go along with whatever you want.”
Relief flowed through Abby. “Thanks.”
“Of course. I’m your mum. What else am I going to do?” She paused. “So she’s taking over the hen weekend now Delta’s having a meltdown?”
Abby nodded. “She is. Delta was resistant at first, but she soon got over it. She’s still my maid of honour. Nothing’s changed on that score.”
“We’re still going to Cannes? Where it costs an arm and a leg for a gin and tonic? Did I tell you Janet went there last year, and came back with a second mortgage?”
They’d been through this. “Yes, we’re still going there. Plus, it’s not going to cost that much, seeing as the accommodation is free, as is the in-house chef.”
Mum clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Do I need to remind you where I went on my hen weekend?”
She didn’t. It was etched in Abby’s memory. “Blackpool. I know, I’ve been told once or twice.”
“Rained the whole bloody time, but we still had a ball. You don’t need to fly to fancy places to have a good time.”
“I know. But it’s a short flight and there’s a free house. Rude not to.” Abby gave her mum a look that she hoped told her to shut up.
Gloria heeded it.
Chapter 9
“I’ve told you before,Marcus. You’re having a top table, and that’s the end of it.” Marjorie bristled. From what Jordan had seen, bristling was her favourite pastime. “And you’ve got to have more flowers than Abby wants. At least two bouquets per table. Otherwise, what will people think?”
Jordan sat forward, tapping her pen on her pad. “On the contrary, Marjorie, less is more these days. I’ve been reading all the latest bridal magazines, and they all say that minimal is the new look. It’s all about browns and greens, nothing too ostentatious. Makes it more environmentally conscious.”
Marjorie sat up at that. “Is it really?”
Did her bobbed dark hair ever move? Jordan didn’t think so.
“It is. I was thinking, we could go with what Abby wanted — one bouquet per table — and then we could have some foliage on the tables, too. Something a little different.” She sat forward. “Apparently, it’s what all the young royals have at their weddings. Including Princess Olivia and Rosie.”
Marjorie raised both eyebrows. “If it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for us.” She paused, looked down at her list, then back up at Jordan. “Anything else you can advise us on, seeing as you’re in the know?”
Marcus gave Jordan a look that told her he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing, but Marjorie had said it. This was the third meeting she’d had with Jordan, and Jordan was acing it. The thing was, having been in this game for the past three years, she’d met Marjorie before in many different forms. Sometimes she was called Cressida. Sometimes she was called Sophia. Many times she’d been called Arabella. But they were always the same. They wanted the wedding to go off seamlessly. They wanted the best for their offspring. But mainly, they wanted to look good in front of their friends and family, and for people to think back to their child’s wedding for years to come and say it was the best they’d ever been to.
Jordan couldn’t guarantee that. However, she could guarantee that her suggestions would make the wedding the best it could possibly be.
“Let me see,” Jordan said, staring skywards in contemplation. “I’d say wood is definitely in this year. Earthy elements, and simplicity over anything too busy. It’s all clean lines, subtle colours, and traditional flavours with a twist for the food and drink. Which is why going overboard on the flowers isn’t the thing to do. Think less is more.” She leaned towards Marjorie. “I had lunch with the editor ofPerfect Bridemagazine last week. I got it direct from her mouth.”
A slight lie. Jordan had eaten lunch in the restaurant underneath where the magazine was produced. Her friend, Donald, worked forVogueand had told her words to similar effect. That was good enough, surely?
Judging by Marjorie’s face, it was. She was eating it up. Every word.
“IfPerfect Bridesays so, we’ll follow suit.” Marjorie shuffled her notes, before nodding towards Jordan. “Lauren’s got all the details for the table arrangements and decorations, but perhaps you might be able to add a little something to them with your insider knowledge. You said you could take over the wedding planning too, now that Lauren’s mother is ill?”
“Absolutely. Consider it done,” Jordan replied.
