Page 1 of Highland Stars
1
Makenna
“Thisisgoingtobe your last wedding. I’m sorry.”
I stare out at the crowded dance floor, dumbfounded at the bombshell my boss just dropped on me out of nowhere. No emotion. No truth in her voice when she claimed she was sorry. What in the world happened? Is the company folding? Surely not; we have plenty of business.
“Makenna!” Her shrill voice comes through my phone speaker, startling me out of my stupor. “Did you hear me? I’m taking over your remaining events.”
“But … why?” I rub at my chest as breaths become harder to find.
“Your upcoming two-week vacation shows a lack of commitment to the company and your clients.” Her matter-of-facttone should be no surprise to me. She’s always been aloof, bordering on narcissistic, but I can’t believeanyonecould deliver news like this over the phone with the same emotion they would use to order take-out.
“You approved my vacation.” My voice comes out strangled as I turn my back to the reception and try to remain calm.
“Yes, but since then I’ve thought a lot about it, and I don’t like where your head’s at.”
No, she’s mad because more often than not, clients come in asking for me. Until now, she’s been lightly passive-aggressive about her jealousy. I guess my vacation gave her what she needed to blow past that.
I’m one of three wedding planners at the company, but clients mention my name in more than half of our online reviews. All five stars. A fact I was proud of, until it became clear that my boss wasn’t happy about it.
No. I’m still proud. This is insane.
“I’m committed. And my clients are always pleased. This makes no sense.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense to you. Your final check will be deposited next Friday. Goodbye, Makenna,” she says in one breath, as if trying to make sure I can’t speak again. And I don’t because the line goes silent.
I squeeze my phone in my fist, then slide it into my pocket. Minutes ago, I’d been proudly surveying my work. Thegorgeous lighting, the elegant cascading florals, and the smiles on the faces of the bride and groom. And now? Now I’m unemployed with an expensive vacation starting in nine days. I’ve been saving and have the money set aside, but do I need that money to live? I have a cushion, but how long could that last?
It’s fine. It’s gonna be fine.
“Miss Fore?”
I will away the threatening tears as I turn to find the mother of the bride. She’s standing with a bright smile on her face. “Hi, Mrs. Conner. Is everything alright?”
“Oh, yes. Everything is wonderful. I came to thank you before the night got away from me.” She considers me more closely. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just fine.” I paste on my best smile, and it seems I’ve convinced her, even if I haven’t quite convinced myself. I’ve got to push my feelings aside until this event is over.
“Well, good. I hope it is.” She gives me a kind smile. “This has been the best wedding I’ve ever been to, and I don’t think it's solely because it’s my daughter’s.”
This brings me out of my funk a bit. I love a job well done, and there’s nothing better than hearing how happy people are with my work. Not that that will be happening again for a while.
“It is beautiful, isn’t it? Everyone seems to be having a goodtime.”
“Stunning. And yes.” Mrs. Conner reaches out and grabs my hand. “You’re so talented. I’m gonna leave you an excellent review.” She gives my hand a squeeze and lets it drop.
“I appreciate that, thank you.” One final gift for my ungrateful boss.
My best friend, Mai, and I are sitting in our favorite little café in our hometown having dinner after work. Correction, afterherworkday. I spent the day lounging and packing. We don’t leave for four days, but nobody can ever accuse me of procrastinating.
“How’s your salad?” I ask. She got their salad special, and it lookswaytoo advanced for me. The greens are very dark. There’s goat cheese, and walnuts. Walnuts. Pecans, I could handle, but never walnuts. If I were served that salad, I’d pick out the strawberries and chicken and ask someone else at the table to eat the rest.
“It’s delicious.”
She doesn’t offer me a bite because she knows it would be a wasted breath. I like to think I’m only medium picky, but she thinks I have the eating habits of a child. I can’t help it that she grew up eating wild food and has a refined palate. I’m workingon it. There’s medium green lettuce on my sandwich.
“So … I have some news,” Mai says. Her tone is neutral, so I can’t tell if this is good news or not.
