Chapter Two
Natalie
"Your house is lovely," I said as Mr. and Mrs. Whitley asked me to sit down at their gorgeous mahogany table. It looked cozy and massive at the same time. I could already picture it surrounded by guests.
"That's very sweet of you to say.”
“Would the party be here?" I asked, running my hand through my light brown hair. It was a nervous habit I had when meeting new people. I was wearing a plain gray business dress, and I realized it was a bit too much as soon as I stepped inside the house.
"Oh no, no. I wouldn't need your help if I were just throwing something small here."
I barely held back laughter. Their home wasn't exactly small, but I understood what she meant. On the phone, she told me she wanted a bash, and I was beginning to think she really meant it, which was exactly what I was hoping for.
I couldn't believe my luck when I'd received the call. I'd barely put up my website—Natalie’s Event Agency—advertising my planning services three days ago, but I'd always been good with search engine optimization, and the efforts paid off.
She would be my very first customer, and I dearly hoped she’d hire me. On the phone, she’d seemed more interested in my life story than my experience, but I didn’t find that odd. Perhaps she wanted to know if we’d click.
"I want to do something a bit different. Usually I ask my friends and family to go to one of our beautiful restaurants around Boston. I've thrown parties in every banquet room imaginable, but this time I want something different."
I looked at Mrs. Whitley, trying to gauge her personality. She seemed like a kind and warm person—she’d spoken about her grandsons and friends at length on the phone before starting to ask about my own family. I missed my parents and two sisters to the moon and back. They’d recently moved to Greece, and I still couldn’t get used to it. Mrs. Whitley seemed to like that I was on good terms with my family. I was determined to give her the best party possible, not only because I needed it for my business but because I truly liked this lady.
I had an idea. It was a bit out there, but you never knew until you tried.
"Have you thought about a destination party?"
She looked at her husband. "I haven't! Goodness, you're a genius. That would be a fantastic way to celebrate."
"The guests would have to travel though," Mr. Whitley said in his grave but very calm and soothing tone.
“Oh, I know. I know.” Mrs. Whitley looked triumphant and flashed me a knowing smile that was a bit unsettling. "Jake does always speak about Martha's Vineyard." She pressed her lips together, looking pensive, and I didn't want to interrupt.
"I can look into it," I said, after a while.
"My grandson Jake has a huge house there. I could talk him into letting us throw the party there."
"I can also look into all the venues on Martha's Vineyard," I said, wondering if this Jake would really want to put up his house for thirty or so people to come in—and that was presuming there’d be enough room. "Do you want a theme?"
"Hmm, if we do a nineties theme, would that be too on the nose?"
"We could do it, if you want to," I answered politely.
"Natalie, darling, be honest with me. Judging by your reaction, you’re not thrilled."
"Truthfully, Mrs. Whitley, I think parties pertaining to a decade are overdone." I honestly thought they were kitschy and reminded me of high school. "What we could do is choose a seasonal theme or something pertaining to colors. Here, let me show you. I have some pictures."
They weren’t technically my parties—they were my mom’s. I was glad that I always took so many pictures at her events and that I'd helped her so often. She always said I had a talent for it. Since this was my first—and so far only—gig, I was determined to make it work.
"By the way, we’re not very formal. Just call us Jeannie and Abe. These look lovely," Jeannie said as I scrolled through the pictures, holding the iPad for her to see. Abe's eyes were already glazing. I gave him five minutes before he made an excuse to leave. However, it happened two minutes later. I barely held back a chuckle. I could sympathize; if you weren't into planning these things, it could seem terribly boring.