Page 22 of The Best of Times

“Okay. I concede. You are quite good at this.”

Paul rubbed his hands together. “Let’s find a sales assistant. I’m getting into my stride now.”

Aron giggled. Paul’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Don’t peak too soon,” he warned.

“You know that isn’t a problem for me.”

Heat flashed Aron’s face.

“You can stop that kind of talk.”

“Stick-in-the-mud.”

Edwin and Anais Franklin were wedding planners to the stars. They operated out of their home a few streets away from Queens Crescent.

When Aron walked in, he almost flinched. Evidently the Franklins’ favourite colour was peach. As they sat on the couch, Aron took in the décor. They had peach curtains and a peach suite. The pictures on the walls were prints of Monet and Van Gogh. On a sideboard were pictures of Edwin and Anais with various famous figures. They’d worked with many over the years. Granny had regaled him with the celebrity stories they’d already shared.

She’d also warned him that they went on for hours, so to avoid the subject entirely.

The house was tiny in comparison to the Queens Crescent mansions. It had an overwhelming smell of vanilla. Aron spotted electric oil burners. At least four of them pumping out the cloying scent into the air.

He also spotted a huge Maine coon cat lying on a silk pillow. He was glad that he hadn’t brought Parkin. That creature would make mincemeat of him.

“What a lovely place you have,” Paul said, glancing at Aron.

“Why thank you,” Anais said. “We find it very soothing.”

Aron stifled a snigger. The single colour tone was giving him a headache. Or maybe it was the overwhelming scent. Either way, he wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

“My grandmother and his father are wanting a cream and gold wedding,” he said.

“A classic choice,” Edwin replied. “Although we’re concerned about the timeframe. It really is most unusual, you know. Normally, we have months to get something like this off the ground.”

Aron frowned. “It’s not a huge wedding.”

Edwin and Anais shared a pained look.

“They are expecting a wedding for two hundred in Christmas week. I can’t believe most of the people invited are actually coming.”

Aron wasn’t. Between them, Granny and the Professor were very popular people. They sat on countless committees as well as having rich social groups.

“Then there are all the suppliers to get into order,” Edwin continued. “I’m not exaggerating when I say that Anais and I have barely slept since Mrs Wimpole got in touch.”

They were highly strung, that much was evident. Granny had been right in her method of dealing with them. Aron wondered if they were like this with all the high-profile customers they had served.

Do they ever get repeat business?

“My grandmother is a popular woman.”

“And formidable,” Edwin added with a shudder.

He was starting to grate on Aron’s nerves. These two were probably getting paid to organise a whole wedding. Yet, here were Aron and Paul, working as unpaid lackeys for them.

“Perhaps we should start with what has already been done,” Anais added.

She produced a peach clipboard from the side of the chair she perched on. Aron was surprised the bloody paper wasn’t the same colour.