Yours sincerely,
Bernard Lieberman
Senior Vice-President
Twenty
OK. DON’T PANIC. This is going to work. If I just keep my head and remain calm, it’ll work.
“It’ll never work,” says Suze’s voice in my ear.
“Shut up!” I say crossly.
“It’ll never work in a million years. I’m just warning you.”
“You’re not supposed to be warning me! You’re supposed to be encouraging me!” I lower my voice. “And as long as everyone does what they’re supposed to, it will work. It has to.”
I’m standing at the window of a twelfth-floor suite at the Plaza, staring at Plaza Square below. Outside, it’s a hot sunny day. People are milling around in Tshirts and shorts, doing normal things like hiring horse carriages to go round the park and tossing coins into the fountain.
And here am I, dressed in a towel, with my hair teased beyond recognition into a Sleeping Beauty style, and makeup an inch thick, walking around in the highest white satin shoes I’ve ever come across in my life. (Christian Louboutin, from Barneys. I get a discount.)
“What are you doing now?” comes Suze’s voice again.
“I’m looking out the window.”
“What are you doing that for?”
“I don’t know.” I watch a woman with denim shorts sit down on a bench and snap open a can of Coke, completely unaware she’s being watched. “To try to get a grip on normality, I suppose.”
“Normality?” I hear Suze splutter down the phone. “Bex, it’s a bit late for normality!”
“That’s not fair!”
“If normality is planet earth, do you know where you are right now?”
“Er… the moon?” I hazard.
“You’re fifty million light-years away. You’re… in another galaxy. A long long time ago.”
“I do feel a bit like I’m in a different world,” I admit, and turn to survey the palatial suite behind me.
The atmosphere is hushed and heavy with scent and hairspray and expectation. Everywhere I look there are lavish flower arrangements, baskets of fruit and chocolates, and bottles of champagne on ice. Over by the dressing table the hairdresser and makeup girl are chatting to one another while they work on Erin. Meanwhile the reportage photographer is changing his film, his assistant is watching Madonna on MTV, and a room-service waiter is clearing away yet another round of cups and glasses.
It’s all so glamorous, so expensive. But at the same time, what I’m reminded of most of all is getting ready for the summer school play. The windows would be covered in black material, and we’d all crowd round a mirror getting all overexcited, and out the front we’d hear the parents filing in, but we wouldn’t be allowed to peek out and see them…
“What are you doing now?” comes Suze’s voice again.
“Still looking out the window.”
“Well, stop looking out the window! You’ve got less than an hour to go!”
“Suze, relax.”
“How can I relax?”
“It’s all fine. It’s under control.”
“And you haven’t told anyone,” she says for the millionth time. “You haven’t told Danny.”
“Of course not! I’m not that stupid!” I edge casually into a corner where no one can hear me. “Only Michael knows. And Laurel. That’s it.”
“And no one suspects anything?”
“Not a thing,” I say, just as Robyn comes into the room. “Hi, Robyn! Suze, I’ll talk to you later, OK—”
I put the phone down and smile at Robyn, who’s wearing a bright pink suit and a headset and carrying a walkie-talkie.
“OK, Becky,” she says in a serious, businesslike way. “Stage one is complete. Stage two is under way. But we have a problem.”
“Really?” I swallow. “What’s that?”
“None of Luke’s family have arrived yet. His father, his stepmother, some cousins who are on the list… You told me they’d spoken to you?”
“Yes, they did.” I clear my throat. “Actually… they just called again. I’m afraid there’s a problem with their plane. They said to seat other people in their places.”
“Really?” Robyn’s face falls. “This is too bad! I’ve never known a wedding to have so many last-minute alterations! A new maid of honor… a new best man… a new officiant… it seems like everything’s changed!”
“I know,” I say apologetically. “I’m really sorry, and I know it’s meant a lot of work.” I cross my fingers behind my back. “It just suddenly seemed so obvious that Michael should marry us, rather than some stranger. I mean, since he’s such an old friend and he’s qualified to do it and everything. So then Luke had to have a new best man…”
“But to change your minds three weeks before the wedding! And you know, Father Simon was quite upset to be rejected. He wondered if it was something to do with his hair.”
“No! Of course not! It’s nothing to do with him, honestly—”
“And then your parents both catching the measles. I mean, what kind of odds is that?”
“I know!” I pull a rueful face. “Sheer bad luck.”
There’s a crackle from the walkie-talkie and Robyn turns away.
“Yes,” she says. “What’s that? No! I said radiant yellow light! Not blue! OK, I’m coming…” As she reaches the door she looks back.
“Becky, I have to go. I just needed to say, it’s been so hectic, what with all the changes, there are a couple of tiny additional details we didn’t have time to discuss. So I just went ahead with them. OK?”
“Whatever,” I say. “I trust your judgment. Thanks, Robyn.”
As Robyn leaves, there’s a tapping on the door and in comes Christina, looking absolutely amazing in pale gold Issey Miyake and holding a champagne glass.
“How’s the bride?” she says with a smile. “Feeling nervous?”
“Not really!” I say.
Which is kind of true.
In fact, it’s completely true. I’m beyond nervous. Either everything goes to plan and this all works out. Or it doesn’t and it’s a complete disaster. There’s not much I can do about it.
“I just spoke to Laurel,” she says, taking a sip of champagne. “I didn’t know she was so involved with the wedding.”
“Oh, she’s not really,” I say. “There’s just this tiny little favor she’s doing for me—”
“So I understand.” Christina eyes me over her glass, and I suddenly wonder how much Laurel has said to her.
“Did she tell you… what the favor was?” I say casually.
“She gave me the gist. Becky, if you pull this off…” says Christina. She shakes her head. “If you pull this off, you deserve the Nobel Prize for chutzpah.” She raises her glass. “Here’s to you. And good luck.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, Christina!” We both look round to see Erin coming toward us. She’s already in her long violet maid- of-honor dress, her hair up in a medieval knot, eyes lit up with excitement. “Isn’t this Sleeping Beauty theme cool? Have you seen Becky’s wedding dress yet? I can’t believe I’m the maid of honor! I was never a maid of honor
