Audrey reappeared without her coat. She wore a black dress, which bulged out beautifully over her pregnant belly. She walked toward the Christmas tree and blinked up toward the angel on top. The view was gorgeous: a new mother, on the verge of something else. Everett took a quick photo of her, hoping to give it to her later.
But Audrey, being Audrey, caught him in the act.
“What did you just do?” she demanded, stomping toward him.
Everett was at a loss for what to say. “I um...”
“Let me see it,” Audrey said. “I can decide whether or not you should delete it. I’m pretty self-conscious about the old belly, you know. I don’t know if I want to remember my fat years.”
“Ha. Okay. It’s a deal,” he said.
He passed his camera to her so she could flick through the last several, all of which featured her. Immediately, her face changed. Her eyebrows lowered.
For a long moment, Everett thought she might throw the camera on the ground with anger.
But when she lifted her face again, her eyes glittered with tears.
“I’ve never seen myself like that before,” she said.
Everett was at a loss for words.
“I look just like my mother when she was pregnant with me,” Audrey said. “I’ve heard people say it, of course—but I’ve never seen it so clearly. I...” She bit hard on her lower lip as she passed the camera back to Everett. “I can see why you’re as sought-after as you are. You’re clearly fantastic. Thank you.”
Before Everett could find an answer, Charlotte burst into the ballroom. She wore a glorious burgundy gown, cut low over her breasts and billowing out behind her thin waist and killer legs. Her brunette loose curls wafted behind her shoulders, pinned up half-way. Everett’s heart tap-danced across his chest. He lifted his camera again and snapped a photo. When he glanced at it in the reel, however, he knew: it would be difficult to fully capture the light behind Charlotte’s eyes.
“Thank you for your hard work today, everyone,” she announced to the decorators, her family, her friends. “It means the world to me, especially given the last-minute nature of this whole affair. But our first guests have already begun to arrive, which means I need you to take all your coats to the coatroom; I need Audrey and Amanda in the coatroom itself to take guests’ things; I need all busboys and servers to report to Zach, and I need—you—” She pointed toward Everett and beckoned. “To come with me.”
Everett could have pinched himself.
He stepped toward Charlotte and fell into stride with her as they marched back toward the proper entrance, where limousines hummed, filled with celebrities and rich folk, all in designer dresses and snapping selfies. The only thing celebrities liked more than professional photos taken of them was photos they took of themselves.
At least, this was what Everett had noticed over the years.
“You okay?” he asked Charlotte as she cut through the door to greet the first approaching guests.
“Better than ever,” Charlotte said brightly.
“Really?” Everett asked as he lifted the camera.
Charlotte’s eyes glittered. “No, you idiot. I’m barely treading water.”
With that, she winked at him, then shot out the door with her arms outstretched. “Ursula! Welcome to Martha’s Vineyard. You look more beautiful than ever.”
She did. Everett stepped out into the chilly air and lifted his camera to capture the first snaps of this blonde, leggy bombshell on the eve of her wedding to one of the most famous basketball stars in the world. Ursula bent down and kissed Charlotte’s cheeks—something she had probably picked up during her stint in Sicily.
Following after her was a wide variety of her entourage: women Everett recognized from both high-caliber and low-caliber TV shows, musicians who had some acclaim in the pop and R&B world, men who made indie films, that sort of thing. Everyone was dressed immaculately and commenting on the snow, as though it in and of itself was a prop.
“It’s gorgeous. Have you ever seen it so thick before?” one girl asked, her voice bright as she snapped several photos of herself with the snowy backdrop.
“And this mansion! I mean, so chic, right?” another guy said.
Everett caught Charlotte’s eye as she led Ursula into the mansion. Just before she disappeared, he mouthed, “Good luck.”
She was going to need it.
Chapter Thirteen
Charlotte hadn’t slept a wink.
She now found herself running on coffee and Diet Coke fumes, buzzing alongside the world-famous Ursula Pennington as they cut toward the ballroom. Ursula’s topics of conversation ranged from, “I really had a lot of ideas for the wedding while in Sicily. It’s too bad we have so much of it nailed down already,” to, “I really wish you would have told me this mansion was so small. It really puts a wrench in our plans,” to, “Do you think the snow is too much? Some people say it’s too elaborate,” to, “I didn’t realize you were so pretty, Charlotte. I mean, for how old you are.”
Charlotte already wanted to pull every single hair out of her head.
When they appeared in the ballroom, Charlotte was grateful that everyone had gone to their designated positions for the evening. Even the string quintet had set up near the Christmas tree and begun to play. They were certainly just as good as they’d advertised themselves to be. As Harvard grads, they better be.
Ursula walked slowly through the tables, analyzing the expensive china, the flowers, the Christmas tree itself, the fountain and the sculpture toward the far end of the ballroom. She smirked, but her smile didn’t extend past her face. Slowly, her friends and entourage began to stream into the ballroom after her. Servers cut out from the side doors, armed with trays filled with drinks—a fancy cocktail that Charlotte had invented for Ursula and Orion’s rehearsal dinner.
“Charlotte. May I speak with you for a moment? In private,”
