A Winter’s Wedding (Christmas Cove #3)

Chapter 3

America hurried through the wide corridor and entered the expansive ballroom at the Paris Hotel. Her heels made nearly no sound on the richly colored crimson and Parisian-blue carpet while she made her way to the center of the football field-sized space. Christmas Cove could practically fit in here , she thought as she approached the waiting hotel manager.

“You must be Ms. Greene. I’m Margarete, the crazy woman putting on this event.” Margarete, who didn’t look much older than America, who was in her late twenties, extended a hand in greeting.

Looking at the statuesque manager in her barbie-pink pencil skirt and light pink tight-fitting sweater, America wished she had chosen a flashier outfit for the occasion. Her black pixie trousers and crisp white button down didn’t exactly scream wedding or Valentine’s Day. At least she had thrown her sparkly silver stilettos onto her feet instead of the black ballet flats that she had originally plucked from her suitcase.

“I love your shoes,” Margarete said unprompted and unknowingly affirmed America’s last-minute decision.

“I love your whole…” America pointed with open palms up and down in front of Margarete. “You look amazing, and so festive.”

“There aren’t many occasions to wear all pink, but the season of love is in the air. And this ballroom will look nothing like this tomorrow morning after our visual teams have their way with the space; pinks and reds splashed everywhere.”

“I can’t wait to see it all decked out. The ambiance will add an additional layer to my article for sure,” America said and looked all around the space. Oversized white wall paneling was adorned with ornately carved mouldings that shined like mercury, while gold painted trim cased each section along the exterior walls. Overhead, more panels, and crystal chandeliers added to the room’s grandeur. “If I didn’t know better, I’d believe I was in France and not Nevada.”

Margarete chuckled. “You won’t find anything like this in France. Take it from a woman who grew up outside the real Paris in Montrouge. Las Vegas does French better than the French do. But don’t tell anyone I said so,” she whispered the last part.

This was a woman after America’s own heart. Someone who wasn’t afraid to see the world through her own lens. It was only too bad that Margarete wasn’t planning to marry anyone at tomorrow’s ceremony. America was certain that the Parisian woman would be an interesting interview subject.

“Now, I’ve got you set up right over here.” Margarete gestured to a light blue Louis XIV style loveseat and coordinating chair. A small glass coffee table that featured antique gold legs separated the seating arrangement. “If you’re ready, I’ll send in the first couple.”

Margarete turned and walked out the main double doors while America took a seat in the lone chair. Reaching into her sleek black tote, she retrieved a notebook and a small voice recorder that Poppy, her assistant turned best friend, had sent her a few months back for use in situations just like this one. Not that any of her other writing assignments had been anything like this one other than the traveling part.

In the year since being promoted to senior special interest writer, she had done no less than four featured articles. Her confidence had grown with each new published issue, along with her ability to let the heart of the story shine through. Even though she wrote for Jet Trek Magazine, she found a creative way to interweave the personal stories with the geographic locations. Jet Trek was a travel magazine, after all.

The first couple walked in with their hands tightly linked together in the narrow space between their bodies and made their way to the center of the huge room. Their eyes darted around the large space just as America had done upon entering the ballroom for the first time.

Knowing the pair may be nervous, she closed the distance and greeted them. “Come on over and have a seat,” she said to the young couple. “My name is America, and I just want to thank you for agreeing to this interview today.”

The man, boy rather, looked to be no more than nineteen years of age. His fiancée didn’t appear to be any older, but the young woman was stunning. Shoulder-length brunette hair, cut into pretty layers, framed the girl’s soft jawline. She wore a long baby-pink dress with ruffles across the bustline and tiny braided straps held everything up, which only accentuated her youthful features. The man wore a standard navy-blue suit. No tie, but a floral pocket square. Though young, they looked wonderful together.

“Firstly, congratulations.” America took the recorder and held it out towards the couple. “I’ll be recording this interview. Can you please state your full names and a verbal agreement to be recorded?”

“Darren Carpenter. I agree to be recorded.” His accent was southern, the pretty kind that one hears in old movies.

“Brittney-Lynn Mayberry. I agree,” she said in the same sweet way as Darren had spoken.

“Great. Let’s start with the obvious. Are you excited to be getting married tomorrow?”

Brittney-Lynn’s face lit up with a bright smile. “I’ve waited my whole life for this day.”

America found that hard to believe since Brittney-Lynn still looked like a teenager. “And how many years is that?”

“Well,” Brittney-Lynn began and sat with a straight spine. “I’m twenty-two and Darren is twenty-one. I guess you could say he likes older women.” She shrugged. “But he turns twenty-two in a couple weeks.”

Astonished, America wondered what they drink in the deep south that caused this couple to look so young, considering she herself was only a couple of years on from them. “Tell me how you met.”

Brittney-Lynn looked at Darren and side-nodded indicating he should answer this one. America could appreciate the couple’s non-verbal communication style, as it was a skill she and Leo had perfected during recent months. They so often worked in front of the guests at The Foundry and had found a way to say much without saying anything at all. Most couples, especially those who had been together the longest, like her own parents, seemed to have some level of telepathic ability.

“When she says she’s been waiting her whole life, she is not exaggerating. We’ve known each other our whole lives. Our moms were in a bible study together back home?—”

“And where is home?” America interrupted.

“Biloxi,” Brittney-Lynn said.

“Mississippi,” Darren added. “It wasn’t love at first sight, but when she came back from summer break between sophomore and junior year of high school, looking the way she looks, my seventeen-year-old brain stopped seeing her as the girl I used to tease at church and saw her as someone I knew I had to have in my life.”

“It took him another year to ask me out,” Brittney-Lynn joked, and the couple gazed into each other’s eyes.

“So, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. What made you pick this date for your nuptials?” America asked.

“Truth is, we were having a hard time picking a day. The more we sat on it, the more it seemed like everyone in our families?—”

“And all our friends,” Darren finished.

“Everyone had a different idea about what kind of wedding we were supposed to have,” Brittney-Lynn said and sat back into the seat cushion. The annoyance at the turmoil of choosing a date was still written all over her pinched face. “So, I was at work. I’m a teller at the Beau Rivage Casino. Everyone I know pretty much works there. Anyway, I saw a flyer about Las Vegas trying to break the record for most weddings performed in one day. And I thought how perfect it sounded to be a part of something so fun. Nothing like this ever happens at home.”

“If there’s one piece of advice you can give other couples going through similar hardships as they navigate wedding planning, what would it be?” America asked.

They were both quiet for a minute and America waited patiently. Finally, Brittney-Lynn spoke. “I’d say to other couples that they should not let the wedding day define their marriage. A wedding is just a day, but the marriage is for a lifetime. We chose this path because it was the only way to stop everyone’s bickering, and we thought it would be fun. It’s not like anyone remembers the wedding really, so I don’t know why they all care so much.”

“We have a few close friends in town for the ceremony tomorrow, and we’ll have a big party when we get home to celebrate with everyone else,” Darren said.

America was falling in love with these two.

“It’s said that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. In this case, what do you have to say about having such a public wedding that the whole world will know about.”

“We think it’s pretty cool. When we’re old and sitting on the front porch with grandkids running around, we’ll have a great story to tell,” Darren said and winked at Brittney-Lynn.

“Can I just say something?” Brittney-Lynn said, and America nodded for her to continue. She looked at Darren. “Thank you for asking me out on the date and taking me to The Shed.” She turned her attention back to America. “It’s my favorite restaurant.” With the clarifying over with, she turned back to Darren, “Thank you for getting up on that stage and taking the mic away from Max Foly who was in the middle of his set and fuming at you, and telling the entire crowd that you loved me and wanted to marry me.” She wiped away a tear and kissed Darren on the tip of his nose. “I thought you were crazy, but now I know it was easier for you to show me how you really felt than keep it bottled up for one more day. I can’t wait to start our lives together tomorrow.”

“I love you so much,” Darren said and took her cheeks between his hands to kiss her.

America tensed at seeing such a public display. Though she and Leo were known for spontaneous displays of affection too, she was not usually in the position to witness others. She cleared her throat, and the couple broke their bond. America switched the recorder off so that they could see.

“We’re off the record now. Can I ask you both something? I’m about to get married next week and I feel like all we’ve done is make decisions that will make all of our friends and family happy, though there hasn’t been bickering like you said. How did you do it?” America sat back in her chair.

Darren shrugged in the same way Leo does when he has something to say but won’t.

“We just kept talking about what we wanted. We ignored the opinions best we could and kept our eye on the ball. It was hard, but we told everyone about our plans to come to Vegas and just asked that they show us as much love and respect as we have always shown to them.”

“And never underestimate the power of a southern girl with the tact of a mixed martial arts fighter and the voice of an angel,” Darren laughed. “Congratulations are in order for you, too.”

“I appreciate that. I’m rooting for you two.” America thanked them for their time and showed them out.

What a powerful statement from the young couple. America could stand to learn a thing or two from Brittney-Lynn. She wished that she had the same level of clarity when it came to what she wanted. Ever since she and Leo had picked their date, she had done everything she could to make the wedding perfect for everyone. She did not want to let down the very people who had given her so much love and encouragement over the past year. But she knew she had compromised on many things.

December was her dream time of year to get married, but everyone in town had an opinion. Too close to Christmas, people were traveling, holiday festivals and busy social calendars. No one does anything in January but hibernate and recover from the holidays. Valentine’s Day would have been perfect, but Leo said there was too much pressure on that day, so they had picked the following Saturday instead.

America paced the ballroom floor, following the grid lines created within the intricate woven design, and supposed the compromising had begun early in the process. She would have married him sooner, if not for renovating a house, helping Leo start and open a resort on the old lake, traveling every few weeks for work, and helping her mom with creating the boutique shop of her dreams. Her year had been packed with new adventures, and planning the wedding on top of everything else seemed like the only way to get to the good part; marrying Leopold Thorpe.

The next couple walked into the ballroom hand in hand and made straight for her. She flipped her notebook to a fresh page and prepared for another interview. There were three planned in total. Afterwards, America would be free to walk the city and take in the sights. For research purposes , she told herself.