Anthony saluted. “You got it, boss.”
At least someone remembered she was the boss. Elly pulled her hair back into a messy bun as she ran to the phone. She coughed awkwardly as she answered. “Posies, this is Elly speaking.”
“Hello, Elly. My name is Gemma Reynolds, and I’m an associate producer with the television show BlissBride.”
Elly felt as though she received a swift punch to the stomach and suddenly she was very, very hot. Sweat blossomed out from her forehead.
“Um, yes, are you there?”
“Yes. Yes, Jemima, I’m here.”
There was a beat of intense silence. “It’s Gemma, actually.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sorry.” Elly gave a high, hyena laugh and stopped short. Oh my gosh, Why did I do that? Calm down.
“Right. Elly, we are calling some highly recommended St. Louis vendors to see if your shop would be interested in appearing in a very special St. Louis episode of BlissBride. Are you familiar with the show?”
Are you kidding me? Wednesday nights, after she got back from bible study, she drove up the private driveway to Kim’s house, a bottle of Tintero Moscato D’Asti on the passenger seat. Kim would let Elly put Hadley to bed—the highlight of her week—and then they would curl up on Kim’s couch to watch the most recent episode of BlissBride. The show focused on B-list celebrity weddings, and covered everything from the planning to the big day. The weddings were almost always enormous, and the semifamous brides brought their enormous egos to match. The show reveled in the ridiculous, extravagant details of the wedding (“I just don’t see why it is so hard to get fresh pears covered in gold!” cried a bride on last week’s episode), the vendor meltdowns, and the temper tantrums that were thrown along the way. It was delicious and sinful reality TV, a true guilty pleasure, something that Elly looked forward to every week. So yeah, she was familiar with the show. “Er, yes, I think I might have seen it a couple of times,” Elly lied. She didn’t want to sound desperate. Or did she?
Gemma cleared her throat. “Well, we have a celebrity that, for some reason beyond me, has decided to get married in St. Louis instead of LA or New York, and we are interviewing local vendors to see if they would be interested in participating.”
Elly turned to Anthony, who was standing by her side, snapdragons in hand. She mouthed “BlissBride!” and he began silently freaking out. She forced herself to be calm and in control. “I’ll have to consult with my team first, but I think we would definitely be interested. What would our next step be?” She congratulated herself on staying so professional.
“Well, we interview about three vendors in each category and the vendor that our bride likes best is the one that gets the wedding and the chance to be on national television. We have a viewership of around 1.7 million.”
This is an incredible opportunity, thought Elly, excitedly tapping her hand on the desk. This could be the wedding that puts me on the national map. She cleared her throat. “Well, Jimma, that sounds very interesting. When can we set up an interview? I have Monday open….”
The shrill British voice interrupted her. “We will be doing all our florist interviews next Tuesday. The time is not up for negotiation. We will be there at three p.m. You should have a mock-up of the flowers ready when we arrive and make sure the area is photo-ready. The picture of the mock-up will be used for our bride to make her decision. Her colors are hot pink and navy, with an emphasis on pinstripes.”
Elly rolled her eyes. Holy hideous. “Wow, that sounds really inspired,” Elly lied. “We’re pretty busy this week, but we can definitely come up with something incredible. What is her budget?”
Elly heard a hard laugh, a sound like screeching fingernails. “Are you kidding me? This is….” Then there was a silence and Elly heard the shuffling of papers. “Never mind. We can’t reveal the celebrity until she has officially chosen you as her vendor. Let’s just say that there are some interesting taste levels at work here.” Gemma cleared her throat. “Okay, Elly, well, I will be there on Tuesday around three p.m. for the interview. Please dress appropriately.”
What is that, thought Elly. A track suit? A dress? Work clothing? “Thank you SO much for your time,” Elly said.
“Uh-huh,” tartly replied Gemma, and Elly heard a soft click.
She dropped the receiver onto the desk and turned to Anthony and let out a loud scream. “Ohmygosh! Ohmygosh!” She grabbed his hands, crushing the snapdragon stems. “That was BlissBride and they might want us to be on their show!”
Anthony let out a squeal. “Whose wedding is it?”
“I don’t know!” screamed Elly, and suddenly they were jumping up and down. Elly stopped. “You have really soft hands! What kind of lotion do you use?”