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viewers had a hard time relating. Now the
network’s all big on ‘family values’ and ‘ordinary
Americans’.” She draws air quotes.
    “And ordinary Americans don’t get married on a private
island in the Pacific,” I realize, striking my next pitch off
the list.
    “Right.” Marcie gives a shrug. “What can you do?
But thanks for coming in, it was good to touch base.”
    “Wait!” I didn’t get this far without thinking on
my feet. “If relatable is what you’re after, then let’s
do a classic small town wedding instead. Just imagine,” I say,
“A cute little chapel in the town square. White roses and
balloons spelling out your name. We could do a barn dance reception,
mason jars and BBQ! You could take photographs in the gazebo.”
    Pixie claps her hands in delight. “Gazebo! That’s my
favourite soup.”
    “Gazebo, not gazpacho,” I correct her gently. “So,
what do you think?”
    Marcie answers for them. “I like it. Fish out of water, back to
their roots. Pixie, your grandparents came from some small town,
didn’t they?”
    “Only if you call Atlanta small.”
    Marcie waves her hand. “Never mind, we’ll think up some
reason.” She pauses. “Pixie and Clyde go country. It’s
got potential. Locations?”
    “I can put together a list,” I tell her quickly. “I
work with location scouts all the time. There’s a ton of cute
places in easy drive of the city. Connecticut, maybe, or down in
Virginia if you want more of a Southern feel—”
    “What about here?” Pixie interrupts. She’s holding
up my postcard of Pelican Key Cove. “It looks super cute!”
    “Umm, that’s just my hometown. It’s a little
backwater place in Florida,” I say quickly, but Marcie,
eagle-eyed, is already tapping at her keyboard.
    “The jewel of the Keys,” she reads aloud. “Be
transported to a simpler time in this quaint, beachside community.”
    “It’s really more rundown than rustic,” I correct,
but Marcie’s in full swing.
    “Look, they have a beach, Main Street, all that Norman Rockwell
stuff. Pelicans, too. You’d like that, wouldn’t you
Pixie?”
    “Yes!” She squeals with excitement, crowding round the
screen with Clyde to look. “Are those the pink ones?”
    “No,” I say, at the same time as Marcie declares, “Yes!”
    She gives me a steely look. “Looks like it’s decided
then. Great!”
    “Are you sure you don’t want to scout a few more places?”
I ask desperately. “Check availability and vendors?”
    Marcie pulls me aside. “Here’s the deal. This wedding is
happening in Pelican Cave—”
    “Cove.”
    “Whatever. If you can’t make it happen, someone else
will. Does the name deKline mean anything to you?”
    "Yes," I answer in a small voice.
    Marcie sighs. “Listen, Ginny. We can offer you triple your
usual fee for the gig, not to mention all the free publicity. Are you
really going to walk away from that?”
    I wrestle with the idea, before finally facing facts. There’s
no way I can bail on a chance like this. “ I’ll do it.”
    “Of course you will. I’ll call the network and get things
rolling. Welcome to the team.”
    Marcie grabs her phone and starts dialling. Pixie and Clyde start
making out in the corner, cooing sweet nothings. The door opens. Theo
returns with the smoothie. He looks around. “What did I miss?”
    “We’re throwing the wedding in Pelican Key Cove,” I
sigh, collapsing in a seat.
    “Isn’t that where you’re from?”
    “Yup.” I look at him, defeated, “I’m going
home.”

 

Chapter Four
     
    What Marcie wants, Marcie gets: barely a week later, we’re
exiting the airport at Miami International. We’re down to shoot
something she calls a ‘sizzle reel’ of footage, kind of a
video mood board to show the network what they’re thinking for
the show. I left Theo manning the ship back in NYC. I figure if
anyone can keep my current clients happy, it’s him. Plus, that
leaves me with one less person tagging along on my