The Truth About Ever After (27 page)

I’m resting next week
, I reminded myself. Jen and I had
nothing big booked. I was going to sleep in late and take long lunches.

Eric will still be gone
, a voice in my head reminded me.
And the two of you will still be barely
taking.

I
sighed, wishing that voice would shut up for once.

Set-up
for the wedding was a complicated process, but I had plenty of help. I was
thankful again that Sarah had decided on the club. It might be a slightly
impersonal site, but they were old pros at throwing weddings. They had staff to
carry out most of the set-up. My job was to oversee things and make sure the
vendors were able to get in. Even with all the help, it was exhausting. We had
a lighting designer and his crew setting up in the ballroom, a small army from
the florist’s creating intricate arrangements at both the reception and
ceremony sites. There were chair rentals, linen rentals,
caterers
—all
running around, all asking me for help and instruction.

The
best thing I could say about that level of stress is that it made things go
fast. Though I had arrived at the club by six a.m., the morning seemed to fly
by. I was in and out of Sarah’s dressing room, conferring with vendors, running
from ceremony site to ballroom. It was a crazy rush, and though I was tired, I
was also thrilled. In the end, it would look great. And I had made it happen.

“Okay,”
I said to the flower designer. “Let me just have a minute, okay?”

He
nodded and stepped back, allowing me to walk around the table slowly and take
in his creation. Sarah had requested a traditional look, and the designer had
complied. The tall crystal vase was filled with roses and lilies, greenery
draping down elegantly. Little crystals flashed in the light from the candles
on the table below.

“I
think it’s perfect,” I finally said, smiling at him. I saw his face sag in
relief. This was a huge account for him, and I was pleased to see the work he
had put into it. He’d be getting a ton of referrals from me. I shook his hand,
congratulating him, before turning to one of the million more things I needed
to do.

“How’s
it looking, Mrs. Thompson?” Michael asked, coming up next to me.

“Great,
thank you,” I told him. I was suddenly wishing I hadn’t stopped moving. I felt
okay when I was on the go, but once I stopped, it all started to hit me.

“Can
I get you anything?” he asked. I watched as a shadow of concern crossed his
face. “Kiki, you don’t look very well. Why don’t you sit down?”

I
shook my head, thinking of the chair rental vendor. He was due to be finished
setting up any minute and I needed to get down there and sign off on his work.
As I moved to step away from Michael, I felt the world spin dangerously around
me.

“Sit
down, Mrs. Thompson,” Michael said, his voice calm but firm. I was surprised to
see his hand on my arm. He must have grasped me to steady me, but I hadn’t felt
a thing.
Maybe not such a good sign.

I
sank into the seat he pulled up for me, feeling woozy and dizzy. “Put your head
between your legs,” Michael instructed. This time I didn’t argue. I was sure I
was about to faint.

Michael
knelt down next to me. “Tell me what you’ve had to eat today,” he said.

I
shook my head. I just hadn’t had the time. Michael made a noise of disapproval
at the back of his throat. “Carter, come here please,” he called. I sensed him
stand next to me, my eyes clenched tight as I concentrated on taking deep
breaths. “Will you please go to the kitchen and get Mrs. Thompson a plate?” he
was saying to someone. “Very quickly please.
Some kind of
meat, salad, and a potato.
And a glass of juice, too.
Thank you.”

“You
don’t have to do that,” I murmured. “I have a pop tart in my bag.”

Michael
snorted in a most undignified way, and I couldn’t help but raise my head to
look at him in amazement. He grinned back sheepishly. “An overload of sugar
isn’t going to help you at all,” he explained. “You need some protein and good
carbs. No arguing.”

“There’s
so much to do,” I said, looking around at the half-completed ballroom.

“You
have plenty of help,” he said. “You can take a few minutes. You won’t be much
help to Ms.
Vandermark
passed out on the ballroom
floor.”

I
gigged. He had a point.

Michael
sat with me while we waited for the food to arrive. I was very touched by his
concern. Carter returned within minutes with a plate for me. Grilled chicken
salad and a baked potato. I felt my stomach rumble and realized I couldn’t
remember the last time I’d had a proper meal. I hadn’t even eaten at the
rehearsal dinner the night before.

I
smiled at Michael as I speared a piece of chicken. “Thank you. You don’t have
to stay with me, though; I promise I’ll be a good girl and eat it all.”

He
smiled at me and stood. “Please do, Mrs. Thompson. You know…” He paused for a moment,
as if he was considering his words. “The people here who remember you from your
days at the club are very proud of the work you’ve done for this event.”

I
stared at him in astonishment. What a sweet thing to say.
 
He looked down at me, warmth in his
eyes. “I was very lucky to watch you grow into such a nice young lady, Kiki.
You were always so polite and kind to everyone here. We’ve missed you.”

“Thank
you, Michael,” I whispered, feeling close to tears. He patted my back and
turned to go, leaving me alone with my meal, marveling at the way you could
make an impression on someone without even realizing it.

***

“Kiki,
table three is still waiting on champagne.”

“Thanks,
Marcus, I’m on it,” I told our
intern,
thanking God we
had hired him. He had been a tremendous help to me throughout the day. I went
in search of the maître d’. I had already asked a waiter to get the champagne,
and didn’t like to go over his head to his boss, but felt I had no choice if
the job didn’t get done. Luckily, I saw the waiter in question skirt by me,
holding a champagne bottle.

“Sorry,”
he said, sounding out of
breath
. “We had to find a new
case.”

I
smiled at him and patted his arm. “You’re doing great.”

Now
that the champagne was sorted, the toasts could start. I walked to the head
table and motioned for the best man. “You’re on,” I said, handing him a
microphone.

The
best man’s speech was beyond boring. He didn’t share a single anecdote about
Sarah or her relationship with the groom. Instead he droned on and on about the
times he had spent golfing with Tom. “Real sentimental, buddy,” I muttered,
thinking about Eric’s speech for his brother. The thought made my stomach
plummet, and I forced Eric from my mind.

Beth’s
toast was slightly better. She at least tried to fake some emotion, managing to
squeeze out two perfect tears as she talked about her life-long bond with
Sarah. I managed to keep from rolling my eyes, trying not to remember the time
in college when Beth had gotten completely trashed and proceeded to tell
everyone how much of a bitch Sarah was behind our backs.

Now
that the toasts were done, I needed to oversee the serving. I was determined
that the service
be
flawless; luckily, the wait staff
at the club were very experienced dealing with formal dinner service. Everything
went off without a hitch.

“How
are you feeling, Mrs.
Vandermark
?” I asked, stopping
at her chair as I made my rounds around the dining room.

“Wonderful,
dear,” she said, patting my arm. “You’ve done a lovely job.”

“The
staff at the club makes it all very easy,” I assured her.

“We
do miss seeing you around, Kiki. I hope you can find some time in your schedule
to come spend some time here. I know it would mean a lot to your parents.”

I
pondered that as I walked away. I had never considered my increasing absence in
their social circle as an issue for my parents. Perhaps I was wrong. But there
was no time to think about it now; Marcus was trying to get my attention on the
other side of the ballroom. I gave him the thumbs up.
Time
for cake, my last big job of the evening.
The dancing that followed
would mostly take care of
itself
. I was almost free.

***

“Kiki,
dear, have you seen Sarah?” Mrs.
Vandermark
asked,
her face concerned. I scanned the dance floor, where most of the guests were
now enjoying the live swing band.

“I
haven’t,” I told her. “But I’ll go take a look around. Don’t worry.”

“Thank
you, dear,” she said, patting my shoulder. As she touched me, the smell of
champagne wafted over to my nose. I wondered how much she’d had to drink so
far.

Sarah
was definitely not in the ballroom, nor was she with her new husband, who was
standing at the bar with several groomsmen, sipping scotch and talking about
their stock portfolios.

I
found her, ten minutes later, in her dressing room. I had nearly missed her when
I peeked in. She was sitting in the windowsill with all the lights off,
seemingly just staring out over the
grounds,
her
beautiful, custom-designed dress billowed out around her.

“Sarah?”
I asked, my voice quiet for some reason, as if I were in church. She turned,
the light from the hallway behind me cutting across her beautiful face. She
looked incredibly sad.

“Is
everything okay?”

“Oh,
Kiki, I’m just feeling a little disillusioned.” She smiled wanly at me. “How
cliché, huh?”

I
was unsure of what to say. Vulnerable Sarah was something I had no experience
with.

“I
was actually thinking about you,” she said, watching my face closely. “About
your wedding.” She took a long gulp of champagne and it dawned on me that Sarah
was getting drunk. “You know, Beth and Val really went to town that night. They
thought the fairy theme was a bit passé, I’m afraid.”

I
felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I didn’t want to hear this. But
somehow I was frozen in place, watching her bitter, sad, beautiful face as she
drank her champagne. “But I was jealous, if you want to know the truth. That
girl of yours had taken something so silly, so… so,
Kiki
.” She spat out my name as if the very sound of it were
distasteful. “But she took it and turned it into something magical and
sophisticated. How did she do that?”

“Talent,”
I said, venom in my voice.

“Oh
dear,” Sarah said, not a hint of contrition in her tone. “I’ve offended you.
I’m sorry
,
it wasn’t my intention
.
I was actually trying to compliment you. You see
,
the
thing I was really jealous of was how happy you looked that day. I don’t think
I’ve ever in my life been that happy.”

I
stared at her, no idea how to respond to that. I realized, for the first time
in my life, that I felt truly sorry for her. It must be awfully lonely to be so
terrible.

“It
was my wedding day,” I said, shrugging. “Of course I was happy.”

“Today’s
my wedding day,” Sarah said, her voice low. “Do I look happy to you?”

“No,”
I said. “And I’d like to help you, if I can.”

She
laughed. “Oh, Kiki. Everything is so easy for you, isn’t it?”

“No,”
I said evenly. “Lots of things aren’t.” I met her gaze, hoping she could tell I
was referring to her, the way she had treated me all throughout school. “But my
wedding day was easy, because I was in love.”

“Well,
now we have something in common,” she said, raising her glass in my direction.
“Because I am in love. It’s my husband I’m not so sure about.”

I
gaped at her. What a positively horrible thought to have on your wedding day.
“I’m sure he loves you,” I said. “He asked you to marry him, didn’t he?”

“You
might not understand this, Kiki, what with your background.” She sneered a
little at that word. I felt strangely relieved that she was being so openly
rude to me. For once she wasn’t hiding behind a veneer of poisonous sweetness.
“But oftentimes people in our circle marry for reasons beyond love. Money.
Position. Status.” She ticked each point off on her perfectly manicured fingers
as she spoke. “That’s what Tom got when he married me.”

“If
you knew all this, why on earth did you go through with it?”

She
looked at me as if I was insane. “What choice did I have? This is what girls
like me do, Kiki. We get married. We move into beautiful big houses and our
husbands take care of everything we need.”

“It
doesn’t have to be that way.”

She
laughed again. “Oh, sure, Kiki. I could have taken your route. Married someone
with no family name to speak
of
and spent my days
working for other people. In the
service
industry.” She said it like it was a dirty word, and it made me want to laugh.