The divorce planner, p.7
The Divorce Planner, page 7
She braced her legs, ready to stand and leave if she could not convince him she did not discuss the feelings she had for her clients. “I am objective, but I’m also human.”
Pausing for several seconds, he frowned. After a long moment, he released his folded arms and nodded. “I understand. Please, call the wife. I’ll find someone else to help the husband.”
The phone rang. He picked it up on the second ring. “Yes? Okay. Thanks for letting me know.” He hung up. “I guess we don’t have to rush. My noon appointment just canceled.”
Growls erupted from her stomach. She placed a hand on her belly. “Excuse me.” This morning she had not eaten anything with her cappuccino.
A smile spread across his face. “Want to grab lunch?” He winked. “My treat.”
Butterfly wings fluttered in her stomach. Could she behave with the same professionalism she struggled to maintain in the office? Or would she succumb to drowning in a tsunami of attraction? Another grumble of protest from her stomach betrayed a greater need. “Sure, lunch sounds wonderful.”
Chapter 8
“Let’s eat across the street,” Victor said. “Their sandwiches are good.”
Darcy stood beside him at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. Bright, hot sunlight beat down on her shoulders. Cars honked as they wove through the clot of traffic. A stranger jostled her shoulder, angling to be the first to step off the curb as soon as the light changed.
Victor grabbed her hand to help her navigate across the street.
A jolt of electricity shot up her arm and sent a bolt of heat throughout her body. How could he be so strong yet so gentle?
After they stepped onto the sidewalk, he released her hand.
He’s so thoughtful and so kind, she thought. A flutter of heartbeats swept across her chest. He’s also sexy and successful. She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Is this a date? Or are you just a gentleman?”
“A gentleman.” He grinned and winked.
A hot splash of desire sizzled her body. She glanced away, unable to meet his dark gaze. At the café, the smells of hot pastrami and fresh coffee wafted through the air-conditioned room.
A server led them to a small table.
Victor scooted back the chair for Darcy to sit before he settled in the chair across from her. He placed the napkin in his lap. “I recommend the turkey sandwich, but any sandwich is good.”
She browsed the menu. When she glanced up, she caught him staring. Heat invaded her face, and she touched her chest. “Is something wrong?”
Shaking his head, he smiled. “We had so much fun at the Gala.”
A whiff of his woodsy cologne propelled her back to that magical night when he placed his hand on her shoulder. This lunch is not a date, she reminded herself. Focus on business. She arranged the silverware on the table. “Did you get any referrals from the event?”
“I get referrals all the time.” He shrugged. “I don’t keep track of where they come from.” He lifted his eyebrows. “How about you?”
She glanced at her lap, her skin prickling. “I get all of my referrals through attorneys like you.”
The server served them two glasses of water. “What would you like to order?”
“I’ll have the turkey sandwich.” He nodded toward Darcy.
Without registering the words, she scanned the menu. “Umm…I’ll have the turkey sandwich, also.”
“Good choice.” He deepened his smile. “You won’t be disappointed.”
After the server left, Darcy removed the list of referrals from her purse and set them on the table. “Where did we leave off?”
He grasped the list.
Their fingers brushed.
Pleasure danced across her skin.
Gazing at the sheet of paper, he pointed to the next set of names. “This couple has been married six months with no assets to divide. The husband wants someone to plan a trip for him and his buddies to Vegas. Can you do that?”
“Of course.” She loved planning Freedom Parties. “How much does he want to spend?”
“Call him.” He took a swallow from his glass of water. “I don’t know his budget, but his net worth is somewhere in the high millions.”
She whistled soft and low. From experience, people with enormous wealth often made great sacrifices in their personal happiness to maintain their fortune. “Why are they divorcing?”
“Something about a disagreement over how to set up a living trust.”
Nodding, she jotted notes on a pad of paper. “The marriage died from greed.”
He shook a finger. “Don’t be so quick to judge. The wife signed a prenuptial agreement allowing him to keep all of his wealth, but she wouldn’t sign a living trust. He wanted to leave out her children and any future children they might have together in order to divide his estate among a host of former girlfriends, including a hooker he spent one night with during his senior year of college.”
How absurd, she thought. She clenched her pen. “Why would he have the contact information for a hooker?”
Shrugging, he set aside the sheet of paper. “I didn’t ask. Honestly, I didn’t want to take the case—it’s a slam dunk anyway—but I couldn’t say no to the insane amount of money he offered.”
“I wish I had wealthier clients.” A sigh escaped her lips. “I could buy a place of my own, and my daughter could stop nagging about my college lifestyle.”
He folded his arms on the table. “You don’t have real furniture in your rental?”
“That’s not her complaint. She wishes I didn’t rent a room from a couple.”
“Understandable.” He leaned forward. “So, why are you doing it?”
She hesitated. Should she tell him? Or should she keep things focused on business? His casual demeanor and sincere interest allowed her to soften her stance and open up. She leaned closer to whisper, “When I moved from LA, I sold my house and used the proceeds to pay off my daughter’s college loan. I thought I would find tons of work up here, but the demographics are different. Too many retired couples who love each other. Lots of single college students. The miserable folks who are married don’t have the discretionary income to afford my services.”
With lips pressed together, he nodded. “We’ll change that scenario.”
The server delivered their sandwiches.
They both leaned back to make room for the large plates on the table.
She bit into the warm turkey, firm avocado, and gooey cheese.
“Good, isn’t it?” He swallowed a bite.
With a full mouth, she nodded then swallowed. “You have great taste.”
“I pride myself on quality.” He glanced down at the list of referrals. “The other couples are your garden-variety cases of infidelity, boredom, and neglect. But they are all busy professionals who can appreciate and afford your services.” He nudged the sheet of paper across the table with his elbow. “Who else sends you referrals?”
“Betty. She’s in your office and working on making partner. We’ve been friends since I moved here.” She folded the paper and tucked it into her purse. “A few attorneys at other firms sometimes send clients my way, but Betty has been my staple…until you.”
Dabbing his mouth with a napkin, he averted his gaze. “So, when you have enough money from your clientele to afford your own place, what are you buying?”
She widened her eyes and broadened her smile. “An estate like Gary has. Have you seen his property?”
Lines creased his forehead. “Mediterranean home? Vineyard?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
He grimaced. “The house is overpriced, in my opinion, although the grapes bring in an income and allow for an agricultural tax deduction.”
Clasping her hands against her chest, she gazed at the ceiling. “The home is peaceful and beautiful in the way I imagine heaven.”
“Ah.” Smiling, he nodded. “You’re a romantic.”
“Aren’t most women?”
Again, he wagged a finger and shook his head. “If I remember a former conversation accurately, you aren’t like most women.”
She gulped. What else did he remember?
He finished his sandwich and placed his crumpled napkin on the empty plate. Leaning back, he folded his arms across his chest. “I live in a condo on the Town Green in Windsor above an Indian restaurant. My bedroom smells like curry.”
She wrinkled her nose. “How do you do it?”
“I’m hardly home, except to sleep.”
“That’s how I am, too.” Darcy’s phone rang. She glanced at Joyce’s number on the caller ID, her heartbeat jolting into a gallop. “Do you mind if I take this call? It’s my daughter.”
Smiling, he waved a hand. “Go ahead.”
She shifted in her seat to maintain a bit of privacy. “Hello, sweetheart.”
“Mom, why haven’t you responded to my email?”
Her daughter’s harsh tone started her. “What email?” She checked her account last night and did not remember any email from Joyce.
“I sent you a message about an hour ago. We need to schedule caterers and florists and a ton of other services for the wedding.”
She clenched her jaw. Did her daughter expect her to check her email every hour on the hour? Didn’t she know Darcy had another job? Or did the whole world revolve around Joyce?
“Mom, I need you to do some research and select the top three vendors in each category for Tyler and me to visit.”
Sweat beaded against her forehead when she considered the length of the list. “How much time do I have?”
“Don’t you know? Every bridal magazine I’ve read insists we should have everything booked within the first month of selecting a venue.”
She relaxed her shoulders. Four long weeks stretched ahead like an oasis. “Take a deep breath and calm down.” She lifted and lowered her hand to mimic the rhythm of breathing. “I’m at a business lunch. I’ll check my emails tonight and respond by tomorrow morning.”
“I thought you were making time to plan my wedding during your work day.”
A knot tightened in her stomach. “You’re not my only client.”
“But I’m your daughter. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
She modulated her voice into a lullaby. “Of course, being my daughter means something, sweetheart. But I can’t neglect all of my other clients and just focus on your wedding.”
Joyce grunted. “I’m calling you back at four o’clock. If you haven’t taken the time to read my email then I’m firing you.”
She tightened her grip on the phone. A headache bloomed between her temples. “Then what? Hire Dad’s wedding planner and move the venue to LA?”
Joyce gasped. “Who told you about Dad’s wedding planner?”
“Your father since I do not speak to that scumbag woman he’ll be calling his wife.”
“Be nice. I don’t talk about you that way with Tanya.”
“Well, you might after you fire me tonight.”
“I’m only firing you if you don’t make time for me.”
Shaking her head from side to side, Darcy laughed. “I spent this morning getting Paradise Ridge Winery booked, even though your date wasn’t available. You didn’t even say thank you.”
Joyce heaved a sigh. “You’re being petty.”
Darcy gritted her teeth. “You’re being a bridezilla.”
“I want everything to be perfect.” She sobbed. “I’m only getting married once.”
“You don’t know that. Tyler could be the first in a long line of ex-husbands.” A stab of guilt pierced her chest.
“Stop being cynical!”
“I’m being realistic.”
The server removed their empty plates and placed the bill on the table.
“I have to go.” Darcy eyed Victor. She hoped her unprofessional behavior didn’t detract from an otherwise pleasant luncheon. “My business meeting is almost over. I’ll call you from the car. Just give me ten minutes.” She ended the call and tossed the phone in her purse. “I should have never agreed to plan my daughter’s wedding.”
Slightly frowning, he placed a twenty on the table and stood. “Ready to leave?”
She glanced at his long, lithe frame in the tailored suit and imagined the tight muscles underneath the fabric. She gestured to the vacant seat, hoping he would sit and they could resume talking. “An hour hasn’t passed. We don’t have to hurry.”
He pointed to her purse. “But you need to call back your daughter.”
“It’s not urgent,” she lied.
“Your voice sounded urgent.”
“She’s just a bride anxious about everything.” And it’s probably my fault for indulging her, Darcy thought.
A crease deepened in his forehead but a smile remained on his face. He offered his hand. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your car so we can talk a little bit longer.”
She placed her sweaty fingers in his palm.
He curled his hand over hers and helped her to her feet.
Relief swept through her body. She had no idea why his touch calmed her nerves and settled her thoughts. She only knew she always wanted to feel as relaxed as Victor made her feel.
Opening the door, he ushered her outside into the blistering heat. “I couldn’t help but overhear the tension in your voice. You sound worse than some of the couples I work with in litigation. Why did you agree to help your daughter plan her wedding?”
She shrugged. Since the divorce, she orbited her daughter’s life like a satellite. She missed the daily milestones and celebrated only the major events. “I thought planning the wedding would help us bond.”
He snickered. “Sounds like you don’t agree on anything from the way you were fighting.”
Pressing the button to activate the crosswalk sign, she ignored his comment. “Thanks for lunch.”
He placed his hand on the small of her back and directed her across the street.
When they stepped up on the sidewalk, she resisted the urge to turn and kiss him.
“Good luck with your daughter.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “She sounded a little frazzled from what I could hear.”
“Do you have any children?” She arched an eyebrow. Maybe he has more parenting experience, she thought.
He shook his head. “No children, no ex-wives.”
“Oh, that’s right.” She snapped her fingers. “You’re the George Clooney of Sonoma County.”
Striding beside her, he stared at the sidewalk. “If I remember correctly, you said George Clooney is now married. And I, for the record, remain single.”
She unlocked her car door and tossed her purse on the front seat. A shot of hot air blasted out. “Well, if you ever change your mind, please don’t call me to be your wedding planner.”
He chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t. I’ll only call you if I’m planning a divorce.”
After Victor left, Darcy rolled down her car window and took out her phone to return Joyce’s call. But the thought of facing another of Joyce’s verbal assaults stopped her, and she dialed a wedding planner in Los Angeles she used to associate with when she attended event planning seminars.
The phone rang three times before someone answered, “Bridal Dreams Come True.”
“May I speak with Gloria? It’s Darcy Madison.”
A few moments later, a woman squealed on the line. “Oh, Dee, it’s been so long. Are you moving back to the area?”
“No.” Darcy sighed. “I’m planning my daughter’s wedding, and I need some advice.”
Gloria laughed. “Dee, you’ll need a bottle of aspirin, a prescription for tranquilizers, and a sleep aid.”
Frowning, she fiddled with her pen. She had expected something more technical like how to find the best florist in five steps or less. “I don’t think Joyce will go the medical route.”
“I’m not talking about her,” Gloria explained with a laugh. “You’ll need them. Trust me, after thirty years in this business, if I didn’t take a pill to go to sleep and a tranquilizer to remain calm while awake, I would have quit years ago and joined the circus.”
“There aren’t any well-known circuses left.”
“Then I’d be so crazy I’d wander the streets looking for one.”
She rubbed her forehead. “Maybe I should quit and tell her to hire a real professional.”
“Don’t. You girls have never been close. Invite her to the next wedding expo, and let her go wild with the vendors.”
“I can’t.” She sighed. “I checked and the next local one isn’t for months.”
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to do things the hard way and research. Make sure to read the reviews on any bridal message boards you can find from the locals.” She exhaled. “I’d help you more, but I’m so far away I don’t have any contacts where you live.”
Darcy’s phone beeped with another caller. “I have to go. I’ll call you back and chat when I have more time.”
“Of course,” Gloria said. “Always good to hear your voice.”
Darcy switched to the other caller. “Hello?”
“More than ten minutes have passed,” Joyce said.
She grimaced. Joyce’s sharp tone of voice suffocated her more than the stuffiness in the hot car.
“Did you read my email? I just have a couple of minutes to talk before I go into my next meeting.”
Treat her like a divorcing client, she thought. Keep a friendly demeanor, and don’t get involved. The wedding is her show, and not mine. Flipping to a blank page in her wedding planner notebook, she forced a smile. “What are the theme colors?”
“Peach and purple. I wanted lavender, but Tyler wanted a more masculine color, so I decided on purple.”
“Good compromise.” She would need flowers, wedding favors, and table decorations in those colors. “What type of food do you want to serve at the reception?”
“No meat.”
“What about fish? One possibility is The Pacific Connection.”
“No fish. Tyler and I are thinking we’ll serve local, organic vegan food.”
She sighed. For the next four weeks, she had her work cut out.
****
Amidst the chatter of happy couples and the smell of sizzling steaks, Darcy stepped into Ophelia’s Bar and Steakhouse on Friday night. She strode to the back of the restaurant where her Books and Booze Club met every week to discuss literature. Pushing the swinging door, she stepped into the dimly lit wood paneled banquet hall. She sat next to Charlotte, a recently graduated art and history student, and gave her a quick squeeze. She glanced around to see if all six book club members had arrived at the round table. The air smelled redolent with pepper and gravy. She rubbed her nose to stifle a sneeze.
