You’re the best.
I feel my breathing pause and my stomach coil up—without permission, might I add. Lord help me. I write back, a simple response, the only one I can come up with, and immediately get to work on his list.
Bee
Oh, hush.
It’s amazing what can happen in a week, using the power of a list and a budget and a company to back you up. Here’s an idea of what it was like:
Ivanka chose all her colors and flowers.
We’ve attempted to pick the right dress, with no luck. Yet.
Tracy has agreed to teach me how to arrange centerpieces, as well as boutonnieres and flower crowns. (And to help with whatever I can’t finish in time.)
My mother and Levi’s mother met, and you could say it was love at first sight. One moment, Suzie was handing over a box of vases (“From Ivanka,” she said. “She wanted to know if you could make the arrangements in these.”), and the next she was talking to my mom about gardening. I don’t really know how it happened; the moment is a blur in my memories.
My mom, Suzie, and I set up a faux wedding ceremony and reception on Friday night—exactly eight days before the big day—and popped a bottle of champagne to celebrate our accomplishments.
I Skype Gretchen approximately four times to update her on the happenings while perusing the internet for tutorials on arranging centerpieces.
It is now Monday, which means I have not seen Levi in exactly five days, and this frustrates me. (Unlimited frustration, I say!) I’m leaving Tracy’s to meet Ivanka for our second round of dress shopping—in exactly thirty minutes. As I rush to hang up my apron and gather my purse, Tracy calls after me. “Don’t forget to bring the vases on Friday morning! I need to go over the basics with you!”
I wave to her over my shoulder in response, shooting out the door. Thirty-seven traffic-filled minutes later I burst through another door, into the boutique dress shop in Del Mar. I spy Ivanka to the side, looking at two dresses set up for her on the rack. A few feet away from her is a girl around my age, wearing a gold, shimmering shirt and torn jeans, with thick hair that turns to waves at the bottom. (It’s dyed blue.)
I smile when she notices me and shake the hand she sticks out to me.
“You must be Bee,” she says. “I’m Elle.”
“Nice to finally meet you,” I say. “I think you’re the last of the volunteers I’ve met.”
Elle nods, passing her wallet back and forth in her hands. “I was out of town last week. Levi told me all about you, how you stepped in for the wedding. Awesome job you’ve done so far.”
Her words make me feel warm and fuzzy. “Thank you.”
Ivanka looks over her shoulder. “Bee, what do you think of these?”
I put my arm around her in a quick hug and say, “These are stunning. Have you tried them on?”
“Not yet.” She looks worryingly at the price tag. “But it is too much—”
“Nonsense.” I take both dresses off the rack and start toward the back of the store. “Don’t worry about that, remember?”
As I’m getting her set up with an employee near the dressing rooms, Levi calls. “Hey,” I answer, turning toward a quieter spot of the store.
“Hey, Brennica.”
“I’m sorry,” I drawl, with what I hope is an extra dash of attitude. “You have the wrong number.”
Levi chuckles. “No, I’m pretty sure this is Brennica. Long blond hair, glasses, wears jeans every day, likes to smile, is very short.”
“Oh!” I gasp, faking a sudden realization. “I think you mean Bee!”
“No, I mean Brennica. I definitely mean Brennica.”
“Okay,” I say, finally losing it to laughter. “Cut the BS, Levi. What’s up?”
For a second I think he might cooperate, but then he says, “I wanted to let Brennica know that she’ll need to wear something more formal to the fundraiser on Saturday. Something not-jeans. If this is a problem, I can fund a nice dress.”
“Shut up. You’ll do no such thing. What are you going to wear?”
“It’s easy for men. We only have so many options.”
“So, should I wear a dress or a skirt or like…a formal dress? Are you asking me to prom?”
This gets an outright laugh from him. “A dress would be fine, and no, this is not prom. My mom tells me Anthropologie is a good fit for these things, although I have no idea what that means. Is she talking about a major in anthropology? If so, we don’t have that kind of time.”
“It’s a store, Levi.”
“Right, right.” He’s driving now—I can hear a little echo from his headphones and the white noise from passing cars. “Will you be sure to pass this information on to Brennica?”
I groan, but I also can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “Sure, Levi, I’ll tell Brennica.”
“So you concede!”
“No. But nice try. Your persistence is admirable.”
“Bee!” I look up at the sound of Elle’s voice. She points to the platform in the middle of the dressing room area, and there stands Ivanka, a perfect little fairy in white. The dress is dazzling, strapless and falling well past her feet, the train flowing behind. The entire skirt is laced with beads that catch the sunlight streaming through the front windows. Ivanka stares at herself in the three mirrors, glimmering and ethereal and fighting back tears, and clasps her hand over her mouth.
“This,” she says, choking on the word.
“Hold on, Levi. I’ll call you back.” Slipping my phone into my pocket, I step onto the platform with Ivanka. I whisper her name in awe, staring at her reflection with everyone else in the store. “You are such a beautiful bride.”
“Is it good?” she whispers.
“It’s freaking perfect. Ivanka, you’re the Czech princess.” I smile and wipe away the two tears that are slowly sliding down her cheeks. “If Augustin doesn’t faint from your beauty the moment he lays eyes on you, I will be thoroughly disappointed.”
Ivanka laughs. “He is a strong man. He will pretend he is not crying.”
I laugh with her, my arm around her shoulder. “If you’re sure, we can buy it today. Elle?” I ask, just to be sure she has the company card.
“Yep.” Elle nods, her expression appraising. “It really is great, Ivanka.”
The bride hugs me again, the beads on the dress making the prettiest clinking noise, and then heads back into her dressing room. With the bright lights of the dressing room beating down on my head, I prop my shoulder against the wall and dial Levi. “Sorry to leave so suddenly. Ivanka found her dress,” I say when he answers.
“Good!” There’s a smile in his voice. “Hey, Bee, tell me you’re free tonight.”
“Um, maybe?” Thud—thud, thud—thud, thud—thud, goes my heart.
“Come over. Mom’s making her famous chicken and dumplings for Ivanka and Augustin. We’d love to have you with us since you’ve been such a big part of the wedding.”