“It wouldn’t dare,” her mother assured her. “Don’t worry, Shannon.”
She wasn’t, but from the way Corrie was twisting the ring on her finger, the bride was.
Shannon had learned that brides came in a few categories. Bridezillas . . . much like the TV show. Excitedly nervous. Or passively quiet when in the presence of their overcontrolling mothers.
Corrie was the latter.
“How many people are in the wedding party?” Shannon asked.
“Six. Three on each side.”
“Since your fiancé isn’t here, can you describe your dress?”
Mrs. Harkin quickly pulled out her phone. “It’s beautiful.”
Shannon caught Corrie’s tight smile. For a brief moment, Shannon thought she’d be seeing a dress three decades too old. One her mother held on to so her daughter could wear it.
The second Shannon saw miles of billowing tulle, she faked a smile. The dress would be a nightmare at a beach wedding. Even a slight breeze would make this dress dance. Heaven forbid there was an updraft of any kind. The layers would catch. Shannon made a note to bring double-sided clothing tape to attempt to hold the tulle down.
“She’ll look like a princess,” Shannon said despite the doom in her mind.
“It’s beautiful.”
“What about your bridesmaids’ dresses?” Please don’t say tulle.
“The same, only in a soft gray and shorter.”
All Shannon could see were pictures with women holding skirts to their legs for fear of showing the world their Spanx.
More tape, she wrote on her notepad.
“Where is he?” Corrie removed her phone from her purse.
“Don’t bug him, darling. If he can’t make it, we’ll plan this without him.”
Mrs. Harkin placed a hand over Corrie’s phone to keep her from texting her fiancé.
“Ideally, I like to take pictures of you and your bridesmaids while you’re getting ready, if you’re open to it. Then once you’re all perfect, we’ll take several preceremony pictures to avoid making your guests wait for hours after the ceremony and before the reception.”
“We’re having a cocktail hour set up for pictures,” Mrs. Harkin told her. “Corrie’s fiancé and the groomsmen are all staying at the neighboring resort so there won’t be a threat of him seeing Corrie before she walks down the aisle.”
“Did you nail down a guest count?”
Corrie opened her mouth to answer, and her mother cut her off. “A hundred and twenty-six. So many people weren’t willing to fly to Mexico for a wedding.”
“Which is what we wanted. A small wedding.” Corrie offered a strangled smile.
For several minutes, Mrs. Harkin expressed her great knowledge as to why larger weddings were better. Corrie sat back and listened. Nearly twenty minutes later, Corrie’s cell phone rang, and she excused herself to answer it.
“Where are you? Did you forget?” Shannon heard the tightness in the bride’s voice.
Mrs. Harkin directed Shannon’s attention back to her. “We’re so pleased you could squeeze us into your busy schedule. I hope it’s not too inconvenient to fly all the way to Tulum for us.”
“It’s my pleasure. I plan on taking a couple more days while I’m there to soak up some local color.” Not to mention fine-tuning her flirting skills with eligible bartenders.
“I’d be happy to extend your days at your resort.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ve already booked another location after the wedding.” If she did find a baby daddy, the last thing she needed was the Harkin family getting in the way of being anonymous.
“He’s not coming,” Corrie announced when she sat back down. Moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes. “He’s stuck in a meeting and asked me to handle this.”
“You’re marrying a wealthy man, Corrie. He didn’t get that way talking to photographers.” Mrs. Harkin stopped herself, smiled. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“I’m sure he has every confidence in your ability to manage the wedding.”
Considering Corrie was all of twenty-five years old and still lived with her parents, Shannon doubted her ability to plan much of anything.
“We’re just about done here, anyway,” Shannon told them.
Corrie blinked several times without comment.
Shannon asked a few more questions, which Mrs. Harkin answered, and then drew their meeting to a close. When Mrs. Harkin excused herself to the restroom, Shannon took the opportunity to talk quietly to Corrie.
“My mother was a lot like yours when I was your age,” Shannon said under her breath.
Corrie tightened her jaw. “It’s unbearable. She steamrolls over everything. I don’t have a chance to think, let alone make any decisions on my own. I don’t know a third of the people coming to the wedding.”
“That happens sometimes,” Shannon said, trying to be optimistic.