There will be no miracles today, Alexa thought. The sad, basic women’s club was an immediate no. There weren’t enough flowers and white lights in the world to bring the once-venerable 1920s building back up to standards. Even the admin giving them the tour remarked on how tragic it was that all the members were so old now that no one wanted to pay for the repairs. “Honestly, we’re looking for a buyer if you know anyone. It’s registered historic, so it can’t be torn down for condos. Or turned into a med-spa.”

“Better suited for a charity rummage sale than a wedding,” Abigail remarked. “What a shame.”

Alexa nodded. “The photos on the website must be of some other club!”

Strike two was the private home of a former Baywatch cast member. Another fine example of deferred maintenance, the house was an eighties mini-mansion that seemed to defy every zoning law in town. The place looked like a cross between an overbuilt Moorish palace and a dentist office. The grounds were drab and the kitchen was too small for the caterer, so the cost to build an outdoor kitchen would be prohibitive. It did have plenty of parking in an area that used to be a tennis court. Still, it was simply too ugly to bear.

“This is a hard no. I don’t have to see the upstairs,” Alexa said, ending the tour without fanfare.

The trio piled back in the Prius and made their way up through the mountains to wine country and the vineyard that was going to save the day. Madison distributed boxed lunches and beverages to her clients, informing them that it was a forty-five-minute drive to wine country. “But it’s amazing. So totally worth the schlep. For the wedding, we’ll rent buses.”

Alexa and Abigail spent the time eating chicken salad sandwiches and fruit cups, saving small talk for the ride home.

*  *  *

“This is unacceptable,” Maddie said in her big-girl voice. “I called yesterday afternoon to confirm this appointment. How could the venue be booked?”