Brooke shook her head to clear thoughts of Clay from her mind and continued unpacking the rest of her meager belongings.
It took all of five minutes, and short of trying to guess the Wi-Fi code by trial and error, there wasn’t much she could do until Alexis got there and explained how the on-boarding process would work.
Brooke was on the verge of going downstairs to chat up Jessie, or rather have Jessie chat her up, when her cell rang.
Thank God. A distraction.
Brooke picked up. “Hey, Alexis!”
“Brooke, hi.”
Alexis’s voice had the same low, calm tone that Brooke had gotten used to hearing on the other end of the phone, but there was just a slight edge to it this time, and Brooke sat up straighter. “Everything okay?”
There was a rapid click-click-click that Brooke guessed was high heels walking across a hardwood floor—quickly.
“Well . . . no, actually,” Alexis replied. “Not okay.”
“What’s up?”
“We’ve got a wedding tomorrow—Senator Marlow’s daughter—and let’s just say as far as wedding crises go, it’s the big one.”
“Oh crap. Missing groom?” Brooke asked knowingly.
“Worse.”
Brooke’s mouth dropped open. “The bride?”
“Yup. She disappeared sometime between her manicure appointment and final dress fitting. All we have to go on is a text to the maid of honor saying she needed time to think.”
Oh crap. Not good.
Although, Brooke wished she’d taken time to think before her own wedding. Maybe had she slowed down, she might have seen warning signs—
Not the time, Baldwin.
“What can I do?” Brooke asked.
“Well, I hate to do this to you on your first day, but I wouldn’t have hired you if you weren’t amazing, and—”
“Alexis,” Brooke said in a soothing voice. “Lay it on me. Tell me what you need.”
Her new boss blew out a long breath, and the clicking stopped as though Alexis had come to a halt. “I’ve got a new client coming in for her initial consultation. Jessie can give you the full file, but CliffsNotes version: the bride is the Tyler heiress, and—”
“As in the Tyler Hotels?” Brooke interrupted, unable to stop herself. To think she’d worried her days of big-name clients were behind her. The Tylers were huge. Hilton huge.
“Yep. Maya Tyler. I don’t know much about the groom other than his name’s Neil. At this point, I’m not even sure what they’re looking for, but she seemed sweet enough on the phone, so hopefully I’m not handing you a total diva as your very first client.”
“Wait—my first client?”
“Well, of course,” Alexis said. “I mean, I was going to see which of us was a better fit for her style after we met with her, but if you’re at the consultation and I’m not, it’s all yours.”
Brooke inhaled, already feeling the familiar buzz of excitement that took over whenever she was on the verge of a new project.
She wanted to squeal. She refrained. Barely. “Not a problem,” Brooke said, impressing herself with her cool voice.
“Excellent,” Alexis said, resuming her click-click-click walk again. “And Brooke?”
“Yeah?”
“Welcome to the Wedding Belles.”
Forty-five minutes later, Brooke had practically memorized the file on Maya Tyler and Neil Garrett that Jessie had Dropboxed her.
Not that there was much to memorize on the latter. Alexis had been right; there wasn’t much to know on the guy. The Wedding Belles’ details on the man were sparse, and though a thorough Google session had turned up plenty of Neil Garretts, none matched the description Maya Tyler had provided of her fiancé.
Brooke wasn’t worried. This early on in the process, it was rarely about the groom anyway. Especially when the bride came from money—big money.
Booking the Wedding Belles was not a cheap endeavor—Brooke’s rather impressive salary told her that. But looking through the photos of Maya Tyler that Alexis had pulled, Brooke didn’t think budget was going to be an issue. Brooke’s designer-trained eye spotted an awful lot of Armani and Jimmy Choo, and the woman had a definite affinity for Louis Vuitton.
By the time two o’clock rolled around, Brooke was all but rubbing her hands together in excitement.
She could work within a budget, of course. Some of her favorite weddings had been the sweet, smaller affairs. But Brooke couldn’t deny that the opportunity to have a blank check and access to all of New York’s most glamorous vendors was an excellent way to salvage her career and start her off on the right foot here.
Jessie gave Brooke a quick tour of the consultation room that was off the main reception area.
No wonder the Wedding Belles have exorbitant fees, Brooke thought. There was an espresso machine, eight flavors of macaroons delivered daily. Multiple French champagne options.
The Belles had sophisticated luxury down pat.
“So, you think you can hold down the fort?” Jessie asked as they went back into the main reception area. “I got a text from Alexis. Still no luck on the missing bride, and she wants me to go check the ex-boyfriend’s apartment.”