Girl Online(10)

As I walk back to the counter, the bell over the door jangles and the couple walks in.

“It’s the cutest thing ever!” the woman says in a strong American accent.

I look at them and smile. “Hello, can I help you?”

They both smile back at me—their teeth are as perfectly straight and dazzling white as the keys on a piano.

“Yes, we were just wondering if you cater for international weddings?” the man asks.

As they reach the counter, I’m hit by a waft of aftershave. But it’s not the cheap stuff that Tom wears before a night out in town; it smells more subtle and spicy. It smells expensive.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure,” I tell him. Mum has organized some weddings abroad before. But they’ve always been for friends. I’m not about to lose her a potential client, though. “What was it you were interested in?”

“We’re supposed to be getting married right before Christmas,” the man says. He must see the shocked look on my face because he continues: “Yes, this Christmas, as in just over a week away! But we just this morning heard that our wedding planner has other commitments . . .”

“He ran off with the bride from the last wedding he organized!” the woman exclaims.

I fight the urge to grin. That’s exactly the kind of story that Elliot and Tom would find hilarious. “Oh dear,” I say.

“It’s so stressful,” the woman says. “Especially as we’re here in the UK on business so we’re not able to meet with any other wedding planners back home.”

“We were thinking of calling the whole thing off,” the man says.

“But then we saw your adorable display in the window,” the woman continues. “I just love Downton Abbey . . . we’re all in love with it in the States.”

“And so we were wondering if maybe we could hire you guys to take over our wedding,” the man says.

“It would be so cute,” his fiancée says.

The man sulking in the armchair mutters something.

“Of course,” I say quickly. “My mum’s the manager of the business but she’s out at the moment. Can I take your details and get her to give you a call when she gets back?”

“Sure. I’m Jim Brady.” The man hands me a business card. It’s one of those expensive ones where the writing is embossed and the card is really thick and silky smooth.

“And I’m Cindy Johnson—soon to be Brady,” the woman says with a smile, handing me an equally expensive-looking card.

“Obviously we have the venue booked already so you guys would just need to do the styling,” Jim says.

“We’re getting married at the Waldorf Astoria in New York,” Cindy adds. From the expectant way she’s looking at me I’m guessing that’s a very good thing.

“That’s lovely,” I say with a smile.

“Oh, y’all have the cutest accent!” Cindy turns to Jim, her eyes wide. “Honey, if we do have a Downton Abbey wedding maybe we should say our vows in British accents.” She turns back to me. “Wouldn’t that be adorable?”

I smile at her and nod. “Yes, absolutely.”

The sulking man in the armchair looks at me and rolls his eyes.

? ? ?

“Why did the chicken cross the road, roll in mud, and cross the road again?” Dad asks me as soon as I walk into the living room.

He and Tom are both sprawled on the L-shaped sofa, munching on a huge bowl of popcorn with football blaring away on the TV. This is what always happens when they’re left home alone together.

“Please don’t ask him,” Tom says, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “You’ll regret it till your dying day.”

“No, she won’t,” Dad replies quick as a flash. “Pen shares my refined sense of humor—good job one of my offspring does.” He pats the sofa next to him and I go and sit down. He’s right; we definitely share the same sense of humor. Whether it’s refined is another story.

“I don’t know—why did the chicken cross the road, roll in mud, and cross the road again?” I say, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“Nooooo!” Tom wails, burying his head under a cushion.

“Because he was a dirty double-crosser!” Dad and I look at each other and start buckling over with laughter. From beneath his cushion, Tom howls.

“How was it down at the shop?” Dad asks, as soon as we’ve pulled ourselves together.

“Pretty quiet,” I reply, and I see a flicker of worry cross Dad’s face. With most people choosing to get married in the summer, winter is always our quietest time, but this year it’s even deader than usual. “Oh, but I did get an American couple asking if we could do their wedding in New York. They seemed pretty serious too.”

Dad raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes, they want a Downton Abbey theme. But they need it mega quickly. They’re meant to be getting married just before Christmas but their original wedding planner ran off with the bride from his last wedding.”

Now it’s Tom’s turn to start laughing.

“What’s the joke?” Mum says, coming in the door and taking off her coat.

“Why did the chicken cross the road, roll in—” Dad begins.