Shopaholic Ties the Knot
Page 56
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“Of course! I’m having three. Here, Williams-Sonoma, and Bloomies. It’s really cool there, you scan everything on this gun—”
“Three lists!” I can’t keep the elation out of my voice.
And actually, when you think about it, why stop at three?
So by the time I arrive at Elinor’s apartment that evening I’ve made appointments to register at Tiffany, Bergdorf, Bloomingdale’s, and Barneys, ordered the Williams-Sonoma catalogue, and started an online wedding list.
I haven’t managed to think any more about where we’re going to get married — but then, first things first.
As Elinor opens the door, music is playing and the apartment smells pleasantly of flowers. Elinor’s wearing a wrap dress and her hair looks slightly softer than usual — and as she kisses me she gives my hand a little squeeze.
“Luke’s already here,” she says as we walk along the corridor. “That’s a pretty pair of shoes. Are they new?”
“Er, actually, they are. They’re Dolce and Gabbana! Thanks!” I can’t help gaping at her in astonishment. I’ve never known Elinor to compliment me before. Not once.
“You look like you’ve lost a little weight,” she adds. “It suits you.”
I’m so gobsmacked I stop, right in the middle of the doorway — then have to hurry to catch up. Is Elinor Sherman finally, after all this time, going to start making an effort to be nice to me? I can’t quite believe it.
But then… come to think of it, she was quite nice at the end of the engagement party too. She said it had been a mistake about me not being on the door list and that she was really sorry.
Actually no, she didn’t exactly say she was sorry — she said she would sue the party planners. But still. That shows concern, doesn’t it?
God, maybe Elinor has a hidden nice side, I find myself thinking. Maybe there’s a whole different persona under that icy exterior. Yes! She’s all vulnerable and insecure but she’s put up a protective shell around herself. And I’m the only one who can see beneath it, and when I coax the true Elinor into the world, all New York society will marvel, and Luke will love me even more, and people will call me The Girl Who Changed Elinor Sherman, and—
“Becky?” Luke’s voice penetrates my thoughts. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” I say, realizing with a start that I’m blundering into the coffee table. “Yes, I’m fine!”
I sit down next to him on the sofa, Elinor hands me a glass of icy-cold wine, and I sip it, gazing out the window over the glittering Manhattan lights stretching into the distance. Elinor and Luke are in the middle of some discussion about the foundation, and I nibble a salted almond and tune out. Somehow I’ve arrived in the middle of a dreamlike picture in which Elinor is saying to a crowded room, “Becky Bloomwood is not only a model daughter-in-law, but a valued friend,” and I’m smiling modestly as people start applauding, when there’s a snapping sound, and I come to, slightly spilling my drink.
Elinor has closed the crocodile notebook she’s been writing in. She puts it away, turns down the music slightly, and looks directly at me.
“Rebecca,” she says.
“Yes?”
“I asked you here tonight because there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” She refreshes my drink and I smile at her.
“Oh yes?”
“As you know, Luke is a very wealthy young man.”
“Oh. Right,” I say, a little embarrassed. “Well… yes, I suppose so.”
“I’ve been speaking with my lawyers… and with Luke’s lawyers… and we are all agreed. So if I could just give you this…” She gives me a glittering smile and hands over a thick white envelope — then hands another to Luke.
As I take it I feel a tingle of anticipation. You see? Elinor’s already becoming friendlier. This is just like Dallas. She’s probably making me an associate of some family company or something, to welcome me into the dynasty. God, yes! And I’ll get to go to board meetings and everything and we’ll mount some amazing takeover together and I’ll wear big earrings…
Excitedly, I open the envelope and pull out a thick, typed document. But as I read the words I can feel my excitement ebb away.
Memorandum of Agreement
Between Luke James Brandon (hereinafter called “The Groom”)
and Rebecca Jane Bloomwood (hereinafter called “The Bride”) of—
I don’t get it. Memorandum of what agreement? Is this—
Surely this isn’t a—
“Three lists!” I can’t keep the elation out of my voice.
And actually, when you think about it, why stop at three?
So by the time I arrive at Elinor’s apartment that evening I’ve made appointments to register at Tiffany, Bergdorf, Bloomingdale’s, and Barneys, ordered the Williams-Sonoma catalogue, and started an online wedding list.
I haven’t managed to think any more about where we’re going to get married — but then, first things first.
As Elinor opens the door, music is playing and the apartment smells pleasantly of flowers. Elinor’s wearing a wrap dress and her hair looks slightly softer than usual — and as she kisses me she gives my hand a little squeeze.
“Luke’s already here,” she says as we walk along the corridor. “That’s a pretty pair of shoes. Are they new?”
“Er, actually, they are. They’re Dolce and Gabbana! Thanks!” I can’t help gaping at her in astonishment. I’ve never known Elinor to compliment me before. Not once.
“You look like you’ve lost a little weight,” she adds. “It suits you.”
I’m so gobsmacked I stop, right in the middle of the doorway — then have to hurry to catch up. Is Elinor Sherman finally, after all this time, going to start making an effort to be nice to me? I can’t quite believe it.
But then… come to think of it, she was quite nice at the end of the engagement party too. She said it had been a mistake about me not being on the door list and that she was really sorry.
Actually no, she didn’t exactly say she was sorry — she said she would sue the party planners. But still. That shows concern, doesn’t it?
God, maybe Elinor has a hidden nice side, I find myself thinking. Maybe there’s a whole different persona under that icy exterior. Yes! She’s all vulnerable and insecure but she’s put up a protective shell around herself. And I’m the only one who can see beneath it, and when I coax the true Elinor into the world, all New York society will marvel, and Luke will love me even more, and people will call me The Girl Who Changed Elinor Sherman, and—
“Becky?” Luke’s voice penetrates my thoughts. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” I say, realizing with a start that I’m blundering into the coffee table. “Yes, I’m fine!”
I sit down next to him on the sofa, Elinor hands me a glass of icy-cold wine, and I sip it, gazing out the window over the glittering Manhattan lights stretching into the distance. Elinor and Luke are in the middle of some discussion about the foundation, and I nibble a salted almond and tune out. Somehow I’ve arrived in the middle of a dreamlike picture in which Elinor is saying to a crowded room, “Becky Bloomwood is not only a model daughter-in-law, but a valued friend,” and I’m smiling modestly as people start applauding, when there’s a snapping sound, and I come to, slightly spilling my drink.
Elinor has closed the crocodile notebook she’s been writing in. She puts it away, turns down the music slightly, and looks directly at me.
“Rebecca,” she says.
“Yes?”
“I asked you here tonight because there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” She refreshes my drink and I smile at her.
“Oh yes?”
“As you know, Luke is a very wealthy young man.”
“Oh. Right,” I say, a little embarrassed. “Well… yes, I suppose so.”
“I’ve been speaking with my lawyers… and with Luke’s lawyers… and we are all agreed. So if I could just give you this…” She gives me a glittering smile and hands over a thick white envelope — then hands another to Luke.
As I take it I feel a tingle of anticipation. You see? Elinor’s already becoming friendlier. This is just like Dallas. She’s probably making me an associate of some family company or something, to welcome me into the dynasty. God, yes! And I’ll get to go to board meetings and everything and we’ll mount some amazing takeover together and I’ll wear big earrings…
Excitedly, I open the envelope and pull out a thick, typed document. But as I read the words I can feel my excitement ebb away.
Memorandum of Agreement
Between Luke James Brandon (hereinafter called “The Groom”)
and Rebecca Jane Bloomwood (hereinafter called “The Bride”) of—
I don’t get it. Memorandum of what agreement? Is this—
Surely this isn’t a—
