“You look like you could use this.” She handed the frosty bottle to Rod. A little sweat improved the man. The chauffeur’s black curls were tousled by the Florida breeze—or an expensive stylist.
Rod turned pale under his tan and backed away. “Don’t let her see you,” he said. “You could ruin everything.” He sounded really frightened.
“I’m sorry,” Helen said. “I don’t want you to lose your job. It’s a hot day and—”
“Job? You could cost me a lot more than any job. Get away from me with that.”
Why would a water bottle frighten a big, strong man? Helen didn’t have time to think about it. She heard Millicent calling, “Helen, where’s that dress I sent you for?”
Helen ran inside, grabbed it off the rack, and hurried back with a pearl-and-crystal concoction. Desiree put it on like a hair shirt.
“It’s regal,” Kiki said, after Helen fought the dress’s one hundred white satin buttons.
“I look like a homely Hapsburg princess,” the despairing Desiree said.
She was right, Helen thought. She did look like a sad, chinless royal bride. Desiree was one of those women who looked her worst in white.
The desperate Millicent went into the odd closet, where she kept her mistakes. She brought out the spider dress. The bride had broken her engagement and defaulted on the seven-thousand-dollar gown. The spider dress had been impossible to resell. It looked bad on a hanger and worse on most women. The color was peculiar: Its pale pink undertone looked dingy next to the true white gowns. The style was odder still, a cobwebby lace that floated on the air like cat hair. Helen itched every time she saw it.
Desiree tried it on, and for the first time that day, smiled.
Helen quit shoving a beaded gown back on the rack and stared at the little bride. She had never seen a dress make such a dramatic transformation.
Mousy little Desiree lived up to her name for the first time in her life. She was beguiling in that dress, a fey fairy princess. The lace was a gossamer web. The crystal beads gleamed like enchanted dewdrops. The subtle pink color turned Desiree’s flour-white complexion creamy and put highlights in her dull hair.
On this bride, the spider dress looked elegant and extraordinary.
“It’s perfect,” Millicent said.
“I love it,” Helen said.
“I want it,” the bride said.
“You can’t have it,” her mother snapped. Kiki was still wearing the rose dress. But she was no longer a showstopper. Now she looked overblown in the extravagant gown. “That wedding dress will never do.”
Of course not, Helen thought. You can’t have your daughter outshine you.
“Then I’ll buy it myself,” Desiree said softly.
“Using what for money?” her mother said. “It’s seven thousand dollars. You won’t come into your grandmother’s trust fund until you’re thirty.”
“Daddy will buy it for me,” Desiree said.
“Daddy is fighting off bankruptcy,” Kiki said. “Daddy the hotshot lawyer spent millions on that computer-stock class-action suit and lost. Daddy can barely pay his half of the wedding.”
“Why do you keep running up the costs for Daddy?” Desiree cried. “I wanted a simple beach wedding, not a sit-down dinner for four hundred.”
“What you want is beside the point,” Kiki said. Helen thought those were the truest words ever spoken in that store.
“A beach wedding is fine when a secretary marries a mechanic,” Kiki said. “But for our sort, weddings are for the parents. We’re paying the bills. Your father will invite his important clients. I will invite patrons of the arts. They will expect to see a traditional bride walk down the aisle, not some hippie. I will buy that one.”
Kiki indicated the Hapsburg princess dress. Its wide, stiff skirt looked like a satin pop-up tent. Its ten-foot train was loaded with crystal beads. Helen wondered how the tiny bride could drag all that fabric down the aisle.
Desiree hated the dress. So did Helen and Millicent.
“Mother, I can’t dance in that at the reception. Not with that huge train.”
“We’ll bustle up the train,” her mother said.
“Can’t,” Millicent said. “It’s too bulky. It will look like a bale of fabric on her back.”
“Is the train detachable?” Helen said.
Millicent raised an eyebrow at Helen’s faux pas.
Kiki’s smile dripped malice. “Let me guess. You had your reception at the VFW hall next to the turkey-shoot posters.”
“Knights of Columbus Hall,” Helen said. “And it was the Holy Redeemer rummage sale.”
Millicent frowned. Helen shut up. She’d let a detail from her old life slip out in her anger. Her fingers itched for the crowbar she’d used to end her marriage. She was on the run, but she never regretted the satisfying crunch she’d heard when she first started swinging and connected with her target. The cries and crunches felt good. Kiki was a candidate for just such a shattering experience.
The silence stretched on. Then Kiki said, “We shall buy two wedding dresses. One for the church ceremony and one for the reception. If Desiree will wear the dress with the train for the wedding ceremony, I will buy her the hippie dress to dance in.”
The bride said yes, happy for even a half victory.
Helen was surprised that Kiki would compromise. Thank goodness for the trend among rich brides for two dresses—and Kiki’s eagerness to run up bills for her cash-strapped ex.
“We’ll take these and come back tomorrow to pick out the veil and bridesmaid dresses,” Kiki said.
Another welcome surprise. Helen didn’t think she could survive another five-hour fight. She did some quick calculations. Kiki would be spending maybe sixty thousand dollars on dresses, accessories, and alterations at Millicent’s. Helen would have to work more than four years to make that much at this dead-end job.
Kiki left in a tornado of promises and air kisses, invigorated by the afternoon battle. Desiree trailed listlessly behind her. Rod, the delectably sweaty chauffeur, opened Kiki’s door. She slid inside decorously.
When the Rolls pulled away from the curb, Helen and Millicent collapsed into the pink chairs. They were soft, but not too yielding. A tired woman could get out of them with dignity. No woman ever sat on the gray “husband couch.” She knew her eyes would glaze with boredom if she went there.
Helen sighed and kicked off her shoes. Millicent fanned herself with a bridal consultant’s brochure.
“The things I do for money,” Millicent groaned.
“Rod the chauffeur is doing something strange for his bucks,” Helen said. “You won’t believe this, Millicent. He was afraid to take a bottle of water from me. I mean, really scared. He said, ‘Don’t let her see you. You could ruin everything.’ He acted like I was handing him a bomb. Why is he so afraid?”
“Because Kiki is a jealous bitch. She doesn’t want her chauffeur talking to a younger, better-looking woman.”
“I wasn’t coming on to him. I’m happy with Phil.” Boy, am I happy, Helen thought.
“Then don’t interfere,” Millicent said sharply. “Kiki’s name should be kinky. She likes watching her chauffeur stand by that car and sweat. She probably does him that way. Don’t feel sorry for Rod. That’s his job. Don’t cater to him like he’s married to a client. He’s not a husband, although God knows he has some of the same duties.”
“At least Rod is well paid,” Helen said.
“He thinks he is, the fool,” Millicent said. “Kiki’s had many chauffeurs. She pays them minimum wage and puts them in her will for a million bucks. When she bounces them, she writes them out. Gets herself cheap help and first-class service that way. It must be a shock for those young men to go from millionaire dreams to minimum- wage reality. I can’t imagine what it’s like.”
I can, Helen thought. I used to make major money and live in a mansion before I caught my ex-husband with my next-door neighbor. I’d kill Kiki if she pulled that on me.
“How do you know these things?” Helen said.
“It’s the talk of the town,” Millicent said.
Which town? Helen wondered. No one discussed it where she lived.
“This chauffeur will get his walking papers soon,” Millicent said. “Kiki didn’t grope him when she got back into the car.”
