Mal’s head started to swim the longer Jenna talked, and she wondered what in the world she’d gotten herself into. Her father’s side of the family was nuts, utterly and completely, but the kind of nuts you talk about with a smile.
At least, she thought they were.
It had been a long time.
She had no problems bringing Taryn and Dan with her, assuming they could keep their traps shut about whatever family secrets were unearthed. But if the muffled squeals and sounds of high fives behind the studio door were any indication, she’d need to figure out some pretty specific contracts for them.
There was no telling what sort of crazy her family would unleash—particularly at a secluded resort with no one to witness any of it.
ChapterTwo
Two months later.
“Right, so Kids’ Day is tomorrow. What kids are even going to be there? This isn’t the wedding, it’s the prewedding shindig!” Taryn snorted and shook her head. “But, to be fair, tomorrow is also Designer Day. What does that even mean? Do you think Gucci is coming? Then makeup and hair tests the next day, that should be fun. And Wednesday is a live band and karaoke at the resort. Maybe I’ll get to sing Celine Dion–”
“Holy crap, Taryn.” Dan snorted from his seat, looking over at her from where he rode backward in the limo. “Did you memorize the entire itinerary?”
Taryn glared at him and adjusted the vest over her burgundy peasant top. “Shut up, Dan. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“To take pictures of your idols?” he asked innocently, crossing his ankle over his knee. “You always wanted to be a paparazzo, didn’t you?”
Taryn actually snarled a little as she smiled. “Don’t be petty, Dan. If you’re nice, I’ll have the girls bring you some crackers and talk to you for a bit. That way you can have the most action you’ve had since fifth grade.”
“Good year, fifth grade.”
Mal watched her assistants with a small smile, trying hard not to think about the week ahead of her. She’d debated the wisdom of her decision multiple times a day ever since Jenna had asked her to do this ridiculous thing—taking pictures of all those high-class people and snobs, most of them wanting her to shrink the size of their nose and trim their waists in editing. There was hardly anything artistic about this venture.
But she was getting paid, and paid well, and there was simply no refusing Jenna, even now. And if Mal were being honest, she did want to see the rest of the family. It had been too long since she had seen any of them—too long in Lorimor, too long in Europe, too long in Colorado. She’d been avoiding them. She’d wanted to make her own name without them.
Which was ironic, since now she might just make her name because of them. Jenna’s popularity and strict media contracts pretty much ensured that Mal’s work would be in high demand. Yes, by companies and people who wouldn’t treat them with the same appreciation that Mal was going to take with them, but it just might be what got her name out. She would give Jenna her best work, despite what she felt about it. She could never take a project and do it half-heartedly, even if it wasn’t what she wanted to spend her time and effort on.
Taking pictures at Rambling Ridge Resort on Lake Lure might give her some notoriety as well, and in the fields where she wished to thrive. She’d analyzed the same itinerary that Taryn had memorized, and she found several gaps where she could take the time she needed to explore. The contract with the resort was straightforward: she was to take pictures they could use in brochures, on websites, for artwork. She had absolute freedom, free rein of the place, and any additional help she needed would be provided upon request. She’d had enough with the lawyers, who really couldn’t answer her questions about the artistic details, but they knew enough about her contract and requirements that she didn’t mind that much.
She just wanted to work now.
“Taryn,” she finally said, as the two continued bickering, “you do realize that we’re not actually part of the group, right?”
That shut the two of them up. Taryn gawked, her gum threatening to tumble out, and Dan’s eyes were wide.
“We’re…” Taryn started, apparently unable to fathom such a shocking thought.
“We are the photographers, Taryn,” Mal reminded her, reminded them both.
“You’re her cousin,” Dan said faintly, which made her want to laugh. He’d been so blasé about the whole thing, seeming not to care one way or the other, but he looked as devastated as Taryn right now, and it was hilarious.
Mal shrugged. “I’m her cousin, but I’m the photographer. The only one, remember. And I’m the photographer this week, not her cousin. I’m not her cousin until Saturday at the family breakfast before the wedding. We might get some bits and pieces of what everybody else gets, but if you think we’re going to be decked out in designer clothes and having our pictures taken, I think you’d better check that now.”
Taryn and Dan looked at each other and frowned in unison.
Mal snorted. “Wanna get out? We’re not there yet; if being only a photographer isn’t good enough for you…”
The limo stopped then, and Jerry, the cheerful driver who had joked with them all the way from the airport, turned to face them with a grin. “Too late now, folks. We’re here.”
For a second, all three of them looked at each other in a sort of bewildered horror.
Mal swallowed quickly. “Remember, guys, we’re professionals.”
“Right,” they said together as they clambered from the limo, one saying it with determination, the other with sarcasm.