Read an excerpt from Almost by Design: A Novel

Chapter 1

These shoes would be the death of her. Or at least cause the demise of a few toes. Kenya Stewart sighed, admiring the way the heels reflected the light in the room. Yep, the splurge was worth it. But getting out on the dance floor? Not so much.

Kenya grimaced, gripping her dessert plate as if that would somehow keep her from what she was being pressured to do. She was a highly skilled event manager, an above-average athlete, and a pretty exceptional maid of honor at the moment, but none of those skills had anything to do with joining her entire family on the dance floor.

“Even Celise is out there.” Her youngest sister, Salome, brushed against her shoulder as she passed by.

“You too?”

Her sister raised an eyebrow and continued to the middle of the room. This could not be. The aloof middle sister and now the wallflower of the family would venture where she feared to go? Perish the thought. I can’t go down like that.

Kenya shoved another cream-filled puff into her mouth and looked around for reinforcements. Maybe something needed to be adjusted or packed up. Maybe Miss Chukwu had another tray to bring out. Her eyes drifted over the beautifully adorned tables. Nothing needed to be replenished or refilled. The setup team had done their jobs to perfection. The guests were in various stages of chatter, laughter, and, ugh, dancing. The floor continued to fill with family and friends celebrating what could be called one of the most talked-about weddings of the year. It wasn’t every day that Hope Springs, Alabama, got to host the wedding of a well-known actor. And that actor was marrying Adanne Stewart, Kenya’s very own cousin. To top it off, because of this wedding and some upcoming strategic meetings, she was quickly on her way to a promotion.

Kenya Stewart, creative director at Rose-Hued Events Management. Yes, that had a nice ring to it. With the former director moving on to a bigger city, Kenya was the perfect person to take over that role. No more grunt jobs or tedious paperwork. She could travel and experience all the inspiration her heart desired. It would make all the misunderstandings and her mediocre choices of the past make sense.

But maybe getting out on the dance floor with the rest of her family didn’t make much sense, especially considering her choice of footwear. She glanced down at the iridescent pumps she’d purchased on a work trip several months ago, with the narrow toe and the iconic red sole. She loved how the dangerously slender five-inch heels lengthened her petite frame. But would they somehow turn her into a person who could actually dance?

Her pocket buzzed. She dug into the folds of her dress and pulled out her phone. Despite putting it on silent, there were still a few people whose notifications she allowed through. Dedra was one of them.

“Kenya Stewart, please tell me you’re about to step through the doors any minute now.”

“Depends on what doors you are referring to.” Kenya chuckled. Dedra Caldwell, her friend and formidable admin assistant, was not one to get easily ruffled. So why was she speaking to her like a mama whose child had been out way past when the streetlights turned on?

Kenya pressed the phone harder to her ear, drowning out the music in the background as best she could. Maybe sneaking to a quieter spot in the building would be better, but that would take maneuvering through a slew of obstacles. She would not make it three seconds without getting greeted by someone else, and in these shoes—whew, honey! She might as well stay seated. At least this phone call was a good excuse not to enter the dance floor quite yet.

“Luciano’s Steakhouse doors!” Dedra’s whisper was fierce.

“Why would I be anywhere near there today?” Kenya leaned back against one of the gold-resin Chiavari chairs that had been sourced from all over North Alabama.

“Kenya, you should be very near here because you are fifteen minutes late to your dinner meeting with the Bellon Group. Remember how you talked about charming the socks off of them? The potential for a very big opportunity for Huntsville and a very big check for all of us?” Her voice had tipped toward hysterics.

“That dinner isn’t until Friday, August twenty-second.”

“August twenty-second?!” Dedra repeated in disbelief.

“Yessss,” Kenya said slowly. She smoothed out a bunched-up section of her dress and settled deeper into the chair, smiling toward the center of the room. The joyous celebration didn’t match the tremor in her friend’s voice. “Today is Saturday, August sixteenth, silly. My cousin Adanne’s wedding.”

“Kenya, that can’t be true because I have the dinner on my calendar for 6:00 p.m. today. It is now 6:16, and if Evelyn taps her pen on the table one more time, I swear she is going to break it. And I can’t hide in this bathroom stall forever talking to you!”

Kenya straightened, swallowing against the rising dread in her throat. This didn’t sound like a joke or a simple mistake anymore. She stood up, scanning the crowd for an easy exit. Light poured out from the kitchen. She headed in that direction, holding the receiver against her lips. “Give me a few seconds to find some quiet.”

“Kenya, you don’t have time for that! You need to get in your car!” Dedra’s voice rose above the rumble of the crowd and the music that pulsed in Kenya’s chest, tightening her throat. As soon as she got to the kitchen, she placed Dedra on speaker mode.

“Start from the beginning. How can that dinner be now, when my cousin’s wedding has been on my calendar for weeks?”

Dedra exhaled. “All I know is that you told me to schedule for six o’clock on the sixteenth.”

“The date sounds right. But I was referring to the wedding. And that started at 4:00 p.m.”

The sound of the pad of Dedra’s finger echoed through the phone. “You specifically wrote, ‘Please put Bellson on sixteen at sixteen hundred.’ And because I know your propensity to misspell everything, I figured you were talking about the Bellon Group and put the dinner today, at six!”

“Yes, I said to place the bells—meaning the wedding bells—on the sixteenth at sixteen hundred.”

Dedra groaned. “You also forgot that the company’s name is the Bellon Investment Group.”

The truth started to sink in. Oh no, Lord, it can’t be.

“But you knew my cousin’s wedding was this weekend. Remember me talking about all the plans?”

“Yes, but you just told me to block out the weekend. I figured Sunday was the wedding since you clearly said put the Bellons on today.”

Kenya placed a hand to her cheek, suddenly feeling weak. Her dyslexic brain had struck again. She had gotten so much better, but what were the chances of the name of this group causing the perfect storm of misunderstanding? And blasted military time. If she’d just said 4:00 p.m. like a normal civilian, she wouldn’t have added to the confusion. But a.m. and p.m. always got mixed up in her head, so sometimes military time did a better job of keeping her inner clock straight. And words didn’t always come out of her mouth in the right order, especially when she was stressed or excited. Like she’d been for weeks leading up to this wedding.

“Ugh, Dedra, my plan was to meet them on the twenty-second of August! Not the sixteenth!”

Dedra released a shaky breath. “What do you want me to do? They’ve been here for twenty minutes, and by the look on all their faces when I left to go to the bathroom, they are not happy about waiting.”

Think, think, think. Kenya paced the kitchen, her heels click-clacking on the laminate floor.

“I can’t miss my cousin’s wedding. I’m her planner and maid of honor. I still have a toast to give.”

“I understand that, but what about Evelyn and the team expecting you to bring the final touch to the pitch we’ve been working on for weeks?”

It had been a group effort, which included Evelyn, their agency director, and it was one of the last hurdles for Kenya to earn the promotion she craved. Now she was about to kiss it all away because she couldn’t get her communication straight.

No, no, she couldn’t go out like that.

“Can you go find out when their flights leave?”

“I already know. Tomorrow morning. But—”

A bang sounded in the background. Dedra’s voice was drowned out by muffled sounds. Kenya bit the inside of her cheek, momentarily engaging the nervous habit she’d been intentional to break. She needed an opening.

“Okay, tell Evelyn—”

“No, Stewart, you tell me right now.” Oh, mercy. First her friend called her by her first and last name, and now her boss was calling her by only her last name.

“Evelyn. Hi!” she managed to squeak out.

“Kenya, where in the world are you, and why are we waiting at a meeting that you scheduled?”

“I know how it looks.”

“I’m not quite sure you do, Stewart.”

Kenya winced. “Evelyn, this was my mistake. And I am very aware that it is a bad one. I switched days and times in my head and communicated those details inaccurately. And because my cousin married a well-known actor, some of these wedding details had to be hushed. Because of the paparazzi, I couldn’t share everything.”

“Not even with your assistant?”

Kenya gulped. Dedra was not just the office assistant, she was her friend. “I didn’t want Dedra to be put in a position that would pressure her to release anything. She was aware that I had to leave much of the information under wraps.”

“That’s an amateur move. The better one is to have everyone sign an NDA and sue their socks off if they don’t comply.”

In no universe would Kenya think of doing that to her friend or anyone on their team. Okay, well, maybe Vance. But that was different. He was her nemesis and a total piece of work. And he would take over everything she’d worked so hard for if she wasn’t careful.

“Noted. And believe me, I’m so sorry for this mix-up. But if you can have them reschedule, I will make it up to them. I’m absolutely ready for this meeting, and remember that I’m also the coordinator for this kind-of-big-deal wedding.” Her voice dipped and rose in supplication. “And you know it’s close to my heart because of my cousin…”

Evelyn sighed. The sliver of hope began to grow into a salvageable path forward. Evelyn had been enamored with this whole scenario ever since Adanne had asked Kenya to help plan a party for actor John Pope last year to benefit kids at the hospital. And when she was asked to plan Adanne and John’s wedding, the door swung wide open for more opportunities. This event was a milestone moment, and she wouldn’t miss it for the world. Evelyn had salivated at all the potential for their agency and just about promised Kenya the creative director role. And now Kenya couldn’t see herself doing anything else.

“Evelyn, I know that this doesn’t look good on our agency or me.”

“Not at all.”

“But maybe we can still make this work. If they will forgive my lapse of judgment because of my planning for and celebrating my cousin’s wedding, I will be ready on Monday morning to wow them over Zoom with an incredible pitch for their convention.” Kenya paused. “I promise.”

Evelyn’s sigh rumbled through the phone. She wasn’t happy with this outcome, but Kenya knew she’d make it work. She hadn’t become the head of one of the southeast’s fastest-growing agencies for nothing. “Okay, I will speak to them and do my best to salvage this blunder of yours.”

“Thank you!” Kenya was breathless. Probably because she’d been holding her breath for most of the conversation.

“But”—Evelyn’s tone stopped any further elation—“event planners in my agency don’t promise… they deliver. And if you want to continue and take on more responsibility in more coveted roles, you better deliver.”

“I won’t disappoint you. Thank you for covering for me.”

Kenya hung up before she said anything else to mess this up. All was not lost, and she could continue celebrating her cousin. She glanced down at the strappy heels peeking out from under her flowing dress. And maybe finally getting out on the floor was the best way to do it.