'Tell me all about the wedding,' Tang had gushed as if they were still in a college dorm and no business meetings and important people were waiting while she chattered on the phone in her office.
'It's just a simple banquet at the Crystal Palace,' Ching told her shyly. 'Nothing special.'
'Oh, that's perfect. I love Chinatown weddings. They're my favorite. You'll have to wear one of my gowns.' Tang enthused over the idea as if Ching had thousands of dollars to spend, like all the stars with whom she mingled.
'I'd love to,' Ching said slowly, but she couldn't possibly afford such a luxury. Not a chance. She didn't want to get embroiled in something that would cause her embarrassment.
'Yes, yes. Come into the shop. I insist. I'm sure we can find just the right gown for you. And don't worry about a thing; we're doing inventory now.'
Ching was silent, didn't know what to say. Then Tang surprised her again.
'I'm giving you one, silly,' she said. 'You can't refuse.'
So she didn't refuse. Ching had visited the magnificent shop on Madison Avenue, and Tang found a sample from last summer that they weren't making anymore.
Here Tang showed her true colors. No free lunch for anyone. She offered Ching a gown that had a large coffee stain in the train and was a size too big for her. Tang was queenly about her offer and promised Ching the gown would be perfect when they were finished working on it.
Ching was Chinese, too, and showed no distress over the gesture, or the tiny flaw in it. The dress had been, after all, five thousand dollars last year. That was a great deal of a gift, even if the item was unsellable now. Ching's athletic figure was far from delicate, and she had a robust appetite she'd never attempted to curb. Tang's sculpted sheath with pink pearls dancing across the bodice and tulip sleeves would skim her curves and give her stature and grace.
It also made her ambitious. Suddenly she wondered if there was another dress among the thousands Tang didn't need for her stubborn sister-cousin, April Woo. Nothing too fancy. Just the same fashion glory for them both, so they could shine together like real sisters on Ching's great day. April would object, of course. For sure she would object to being Ching's maid of honor. April didn't like standing out in any way whatsoever. That was the reason Ching hadn't told her yet. But if April had a magnificent gown, she wouldn't be able to refuse being maid of honor. She'd have to stand up with Ching and give a speech.
Secrets, manipulations, and most of all scheming was the only way to work with the stubborn Woos and also the Tangs of the world. When Ching got off the subway at the Hunter College stop, she was smiling at all her manipulations on April's behalf and hoping against hope that Tang would indulge her just a little more. It was a gorgeous day, only three blocks to Madison, and she wanted that dress.
When Ching climbed the stairs to Tang Ling's ultrachic second-floor showroom, however, she was disappointed to find Tang herself deeply engaged in a cantankerous bridal fitting for a noisy mother-daughter duo. Fittings with Tang were unusual. She was always so busy designing a new line for each season and traveling around the world that only the rarefied few received her personal attention after the choice of a gown was made.
'Prudence, stand still!' the mother shrilled loudly.
'1 am standing still,' protested a slender girl who seemed to Ching awfully young to be a bride. She was encased in alenqon lace from shoulder to toe and eight feet beyond, dolled up like a Barbie of the fifties and looking every bit the part with a dip of real blond hair over one amethyst eye. All she needed was the white mink shrug of Doris Day to make her perfectly retro.
It was a daunting sight, and Ching was discouraged. She'd expected to have Tang to herself for at least a few minutes. She knew Tang had an important meeting at noon. So the young bride and her mother, and the friend they had with them, were an annoying setback. Time was passing, and they filled the ballroomlike showroom—usually large enough for more than one party to parade around in at the same time—making it clear how important they were in the scheme of things.
Ching nodded and sat on a slipper chair by the elevator to watch the maestro work. After she'd been there for fifteen minutes, she had to hand it to Tang. The most famous of all special-occasion designers knew how to work the crowd and steer clear of disaster. The bride was slender; the mother was stout. Ching's own mother was chubby, but this woman was huge, her chest as big as a ship's prow. Tang took control of them.
Both women were wearing white gowns. The mother's had a long chiffon skirt that softened her bulk, but she wasn't happy with it. The neckline was cut low enough to reveal a great expanse of soft, crepey skin on her neck and abundant chest. That, however, wasn't what bothered this MOB.
'It's too plain,' she complained, eyeing her daughter's extravaganza.
'Ah, yes, it definitely needs something, don't you agree, Wendy?' Tang said.
The third woman nodded. 'A beaded bolero?' she suggested.
'Maybe not beads,' Tang said slowly.
Kim, the fitter, shook his head. 'Better just a handkerchief of the same material.'
'What do you think, Pru?' The MOB turned to her daughter. 'Is it too plain?' she demanded.
'I don't know,' the girl replied crossly. She turned her back on her mother and marched across the room to the window on Madison, dragging her train behind her. When she got there she stared out at the street blankly while Tang ordered one of the salesgirls to gather some jackets, scarves, and other accessories to enhance the MOB's dress.
'What's the matter, Pru?' The mother tried to rouse her daughter out of her sulk, but got no response for her effort.
'Wedding jitters?' teased the woman Tang had called Wendy.
'No,' came the petulant reply.
'Maybe she doesn't want to get married so quick.' This from Kim.
'Kim!' Tang's voice was sharp. 'What are you talking about? Of course she wants to get married.'
'No,' came the sulky voice again.
'We don't want to get married! God, give me strength.' The MOB clamped a hand on her chest.
'I can't wait until the ordeal is over. My God, I'm sick of all these freaking details.'
'Ah, here we are,' Tang said cheerfully.
The saleswoman arrived almost staggering under a load of shimmering, glittering merchandise.
Ching groaned to herself. This was going to take forever. Then she watched with utter fascination as Tang, the woman called Wendy, and Kim all skillfully steered the discontented MOB toward a stunning embroidered and beribboned bolero that served three purposes: it camouflaged the offending chest skin, allowed the mother to
'The Hay women and their wedding planner,' Tang said with a wan smile when they finally left. 'Ching, I'm sorry to keep you waiting.'
'No, no. It's nothing.'Ching would never in a million years complain. 'It was wonderful to watch you work. I never realized how hard it is.'
'You can't even begin to imagine.' Tang rolled her eyes, and immediately the salesgirl brought in Ching's gown.
Another girl came into the room and whispered loudly, 'Your car is downstairs. You have two minutes.'
'Ching, you look so great! 1 only have two minutes.'
'Thank you.' But Ching knew she didn't look great at all. Tang was the one who looked great. Thin, dressed all in Armani. Slide shoes, hair dyed red. Red nail polish. Pearls as large as marbles around her neck. And she'd had her eyes done! Almost Western eyes in a very Asian face. Ching had to admit it was a good job, even if she disapproved of surgery. She smiled. 'You're the glamour girl.'
'Not such a glamour girl today.' Tang's customer demeanor dropped away, and she wilted visibly
'Tired,' Ching said sympathetically.
'No, didn't you hear? One of my brides was murdered yesterday,' Tang told her with an angry look.
'No!' Ching put her hand to her mouth.
'Terrible thing,' Kim said, his eyes tearing up.
'What happened?' Horrified, Ching looked from one to the other.
'Someone shot her as she was going down the aisle.' Tang glanced at her watch. 'Hurry up. I have one
