Between the Lines

Agatha Harkness did not consider herself a romantic. Romance, in her experience, was messy, unpredictable, and far too vulnerable for someone like her. She had no use for grand gestures or stolen glances. What she did believe in was order… precise, unwavering order. It was why her weddings were legendary and why clients with money to burn called her the moment they got engaged.

She did not handle the business of love. She handled the business of perfection.

So when the call came from Lilia Vidal herself, Agatha was not flattered, she was intrigued. The Vidal family was one of the oldest, wealthiest families in the city. Their name was synonymous with class and power. Agatha did not need the prestige, they needed her. Still, a challenge was a challenge and Agatha thrived on challenges.

Sitting in her small but meticulously decorated office, Agatha listened to Lilia’s voice over the phone, sharp and efficient.

“My niece is getting married in three months,” Lilia said. “We need someone who can handle the planning. Someone experienced and capable. You came highly recommended.”

Agatha leaned back in her chair, pen poised over her planner. “Three months is tight for a wedding of this scale.”

“I am well aware,” Lilia replied. “But I am told you can handle it well. You will also be paid handsomely for the workload, of course.”

Agatha smiled faintly, leaning back in her desk chair and looking at her manicured nails. “I can.”

“Hmm?” 

“I can certainly handle it. That, I am confident of.” Agatha adds, clarifying.

Just like that, the deal was sealed. Agatha did not need to ask about budgets or logistics. She already knew they would spare no expense and her mind already rattled with ideas on how she would pull it off. What she did not know, what Lilia had lacked details of, was the bride. All Agatha knew was that the bride was Lilia’s niece and she was likely another spoiled, old money, socialite brat. Agatha knew the type all too well. Difficult to please at times but she knew how to wrap them around her finger. They were often emotionally detached, vain. Agatha could handle that with expertise. 

Agatha’s car hummed along the long, winding road to the Vidal estate. She had been briefed on the basics: Rio Vidal, the only daughter of the Vidal family’s eldest son, was marrying the son of a family friend- The Kale family. A match that, on paper, made perfect sense. Both families were powerful, old money through and through. A union as such was one that people like the Vidals and the Kales saw as a duty rather than choice. 

Not that Agatha cared.

Brides were brides, and it did not matter why they were getting married. What mattered was the wedding itself. The venue, the flowers, the dress, the hundreds of tiny details that would fall into place under her watchful eye and skilled mind. She prided herself on such abilities.

Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, Agatha mentally rehearsed her opening lines as she pulled into the grand driveway of the Vidal estate. First impressions mattered. Clients needed to see her as unflappable, someone who could take their chaos and transform it into something beautifully organized. She was capable of turning any event into something spectacular. Agatha was especially known for bringing out details the clients had not even known they wanted until they saw it played out before them.

Her car came to a stop in front of the sprawling mansion, a towering structure of white stone and gleaming windows. The estate was like something out of a magazine, with its manicured gardens and a fountain with intricate carved sculptures, glistening in the midday sun. Adjusting her blazer as she stepped out of the car, her leather binder tucked under one arm, Agatha takes a calming breath and makes her way up the walkway to the front door of The Vidal Estate.

The door was opened by a housekeeper who ushered her inside without a word. The interior of the house was just as extravagant as the exterior. High ceilings, marble floors, and artwork that screamed exclusivity. However, Agatha barely noticed. She was used to the extravagant homes of her clients. What Agatha was focused on was mentally mapping out her approach to the bride and her family.

“Ms. Harkness!,” a voice called out, and Agatha turned to see Lilia Vidal descending a sweeping staircase covered in deep emerald green runner carpeting. She was every bit as composed as she had sounded over the phone, her curly salt and pepper hair styled perfectly atop her head, her tailored suit exuding wealth and authority.

“Mrs. Vidal,” Agatha said, extending a hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Lilia’s handshake was firm, her smile brief. “I go by my maiden name, Calderu. Thank you for coming. I will not waste your time. My niece, Rio, is waiting for you in the garden. I will let you speak to her directly.” 

Agatha nodded, “Of course, Ms. Calderu.”. 

With that, Agatha follows Lilia through the house and out to the gardens. The air was warm and fragrant, the kind of perfection that came from careful cultivation and housekeepers.. many housekeepers. Agatha took it all in, already imagining the possibilities for the wedding.

“Rio is… unconventional,” Lilia said as they walked. “She is not like the rest of the family. I thought it best to bring you in, given her… hesitancy to take charge. She needs professional guidance and, truthfully, lots of it.”

Agatha arched a brow but did not respond. She had dealt with all kinds of brides. Some were indecisive, some overbearing, and everything in between. If Rio Vidal was a challenge, Agatha would handle her like she handled everything else: with grace and precision.

When they reached the pergola at the center of the garden, Lilia gestured toward the figure standing beneath it. “That’s her. I’ll leave you to it.”

And then Lilia was gone with a curt wave, her sharp heels clicking away on the stone path. Agatha watched Lilia walk away for a moment before shaking her head and turning her attention to the young woman under the pergola.

Rio Vidal was nothing like Agatha had imagined. She was not prim or polished, like most society brides. She was not fidgeting with her phone or barking orders at the housekeepers around her. She sat quietly, her olive-green dress catching the sunlight, her loose dark waves falling softly over her shoulders, the softest freckles on her nose and cheeks that were not hidden by thick makeup. She looked serene, but there was a stillness about her that felt almost… wistful.

Agatha approached, her footsteps soft on the stone. “Ms. Vidal?”

Rio turned, and Agatha felt her breath get stuck in her throat for just a moment. Her eyes trace Rio and it takes everything in her to meet her eyes. However, when she does meet Rio’s eyes, she’s glad she managed such. The woman’s dark eyes were warm and curious, a certain glow to them that made Agatha feel as though birds had began to scatter wildly within her stomach, an internal flutter that she wouldn’t so easily move past. Then she notices her smile; soft and hesitant. She had a kind of beauty that did not demand attention but drew it anyway, like the glow of candlelight in a dark room. Agatha had no choice but to step closer. 

“You must be Agatha,” Rio said, her voice smooth and low, with a hint of amusement as she notes Agatha’s subtle steps closer to her.

“Mm, yes…That would be me,” Agatha replied, her usual confidence faltering ever so slightly. “Your aunt hired me to plan your wedding.”

Rio’s brow quirked, and she tilted her head slightly. “Did she? That sounds about right. She mentioned you but I suppose she regretted to inform me of actually hiring you.”

Agatha hesitated, then stepped over to Rio’s side, opening her binder and tilting it for Rio to see. “Hmm, well… yes… Let us start with the basics, shall we? What kind of wedding do you picture?”

Rio shrugged, her gaze drifting back toward the cobblestone paths amongst the estate’s gardens. “Something simple. Elegant but not over-the-top. I don’t want it to be fussy. This isn’t a big deal.”

Agatha frowned. She was not expecting that response. These rich, old money women never give her that response. They often come with books full of ideas- too many ideas. “You don’t have anything more specific? Colors? Themes? Flowers?”

Rio laughed softly, the sound like the rustle of leaves. “Not really. I trust you to figure it out.”

Agatha blinked, caught off guard. Brides she was used to working with did not say things like that. They cared too much. They obsessed. They micromanaged.

“Well,” Agatha said slowly, “this is your wedding. It should reflect what you want. I would not think well of myself if I supplied you a simple cookie cutter wedding. That is not what I ever aim to do. Each wedding is unique to the client.”

Rio turned her face to her, and for a moment, their eyes locked. They look at one another, the silence between them deafening as Agatha patiently waits for Rio to speak. “What if I don’t know what I want?” she asked in a gentle, yet uncertain, tone. Something unreadable passes within her eyes and Agatha has to pause for a moment to take that expression in. 

Why did it concern her?

The question hung in the air, and for the first time in a long time, Agatha did not have an immediate answer. She looked at Rio, really looked at her, and read something within that nearly unreadable expression that she had not expected to see: Uncertainty. Longing.

“Well,” Agatha said at last, her voice quieter now, “then we shall figure it out together, hmm?”

Rio’s smile returned, softer this time. “I’d like that, Agatha.”

It was then that, for the first time in her career, Agatha wondered if she had taken on more than she could handle.