The Wedding

by Danielle Steel

  Three of her friends and one of her associates had left messages for her, none of them urgent or even important. And then, finally, there was a message from Brandon. He had just called to say that he'd had a great time with the girls, and would talk to her on Sunday. He never mentioned the awards, hadn't watched them on television, didn't know or say anything about Carmen or her father. And it suddenly made her feel lonely again, listening to him. It was as though he was never really a part of her life, except when he chose to be, and even then only to the extent that he dared enter into it, which was never very far, or very deep. He was always a tourist. And no matter how much she felt for him, or how long their relationship went on, there was always a carefully maintained distance between them.

  She nipped off the machine, and walked slowly into her bedroom, taking the pins out of her hair. It cascaded down her back, and she wasn't sure why, but there were tears in her eyes as she unzipped her dress and dropped it over the back of a chair. She was twenty-nine years old, and she wasn't even sure that any man had ever really loved her. It was an odd feeling of solitude as she stood naked in front of the mirrors in her dressing room, wondering if Brandon loved her, if he was even capable of pushing beyond the boundaries he set for himself, and being there for her, just the way she instinctively sensed that Alan wanted to be there for Carmen. It was as simple as that, Alan and Carmen had known each other for one night, and he was reaching out to her, without fear or even hesitation. And here was Brandon, after two years, like a man on a ledge, afraid to take the leap, unable to retreat, and not even willing to hold a hand out to her for comfort. She was alone. It was one of those shocking realizations that make you tremble with the terror of it in the dark of night, until you almost screamed. She was entirely alone. And wherever he was at that precise moment, so was Brandon.

  CHAPTER 4

  The first call Allegra got on Sunday morning was from Brandon. He was going out to play tennis with the girls, and he wanted to be sure he caught Allegra before she left. He knew she was leaving for New York sometime that afternoon, and he didn't want to miss her.

  “How did all your little chickens do?” he asked with interest, but it seemed odd to her that he hadn't bothered to watch the news. He could have at least done that, for her parents' sake, if not for Carmen's. But she didn't say anything to reproach him; she was just glad he had called her.

  “Carmen won best actress in a film, and my father won for best producer of a feature film. And they gave him a special humanitarian award too, which is a really big deal. It was terrific. My mom, unfortunately”—she sighed as she said it, remembering the look of worry and defeat in her mother's eyes—” didn't win anything, and I think it upset her pretty badly.”

  “You've got to be a good sport in that business, if nothing else,” he said glibly, and Allegra was suddenly angry at him. The fact that he hadn't been at the ceremony was bad enough, but she didn't like him being insensitive about her mother.

  “It's a little more complicated than that. It has to do with the life of a show, whether or not you win an award. She's been fighting for the show's survival for the last year, and this could lose them important sponsors.”

  “That's too bad,” he said, but he didn't sound particularly sympathetic. “Tell your dad I said congratulations.”

  “I will,” she said, and then he went on to tell her about the day he had spent with his daughters. And the way he changed the subject started to bother her. Seeing the way Alan had treated Carmen the night before, and even the way he had treated her, had reminded her of how sensitive some men were, how solicitous and protective. Not all men were as backed-off, or as purposefully independent as Brandon. He was totally self-sufficient, and he expected her to be equally so. He didn't want her making any demands on him. They were like two parallel ships floating side by side, but with considerable distance between them, in one ocean. But the loneliness she'd felt the night before engulfed her again as she listened to him. More and more lately, she was feeling anxious about their relationship, and abandoned whenever he wasn't there for her. She had always wanted a relationship like the one her parents shared, but she was beginning to wonder if she was even suited to it, or if she was just continuing to pick men who were unwilling to commit, as Dr. Green had suggested.

  “What time are you leaving for New York?” he asked conversationally. She was going to meet a very important bestselling author. His agent had asked her to represent him for a film deal, and she had set up a number of other meetings in New York as well. She was going to have a very busy week, and expected to be involved in some serious negotiations.

  “I'm taking a four o'clock flight,” she said, sounding sad, but he didn't seem to notice. She still had to pack, and she wanted to drop by and see her mother, if she had time, or at least call just to make sure she was all right after the night before. And she thought she should check on Carmen. “I'll be at the Regency in New York.”

  “I'll call you.”

  “Good luck with your trial.”

  “I wish I could get him to make a deal, it would go a lot better for him with the prosecutor if he would. But he's very stubborn,” he said about his client.

  “Maybe he will at the eleventh hour,” Allegra said hopefully.

  “I doubt it, and I've done all the groundwork by now.” As usual, he was wrapped up in his own world, his own life, and Allegra felt as though she had to fight for his attention. “I'll see you next weekend,” he said, sounding regretful suddenly. “I'm going to miss you.” He sounded surprised, and she smiled at the phone. Those were the little hooks that kept her attached to him, ever hopeful. He was capable of loving her, he just didn't have much time, and he was so traumatized by his ex-wife. That was always the excuse. Trauma caused by Joanie. Allegra had explained it to everyone a thousand times. And there were instances when it was so obvious to her, and equally obvious to her that he loved her.

  “I miss you now,” she said, her feelings raw, and there was a long beat of silence.

  “I couldn't help it, Allie. I had to come here this weekend.”

  “I know. But I missed you last night. That was important to me.”

  “I told you. I'll be there next year.” He said it as though he meant it, and she smiled finally.

  “I'll hold you to that.” But where would they be next year? Would he be divorced? Would they be married by then? Would he have overcome his fear of commitment? They were questions that still had no answers.

  “I'll call you tomorrow night,” he promised again, and just before they hung up, he reached out and touched her heart. “I love you, Al,” he said softly.

  “I love you too,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. He was there for her, he just had his own fears and obligations to contend with. She understood that. “Take care of yourself this week.”

  “I will. You too,” he said, sounding as though he was really going to miss her. It made her smile wistfully as she hung up. What they had wasn't easily acquired, but they were getting there, despite what other people thought. She just had to be patient. He was worth it.

  She called her parents after that, congratulated her father again, and extended Brandon's congratulations. And then she asked to talk to her mom, and she could still hear the edge of sadness in her voice when she answered.

  “Are you okay?” Allegra asked sympathetically, and Blaire smiled, touched that she had called her.

  “Oh, no, I'm going to slash my wrists this afternoon, or maybe I'll just stick my head in the oven.”

  “You'd better hurry up,” Allegra said with a grin, pleased to hear her joking about it, “before they rip out the kitchen. Seriously, Mom, you deserved that award again this year, and you know it.”

  “Maybe not, dear. Maybe it's time to give someone else a turn. We had an awful lot of trouble with the show this fall.” One of the stars had quit, tired of it after nine years, and several of the others had asked for enormous raises when they renewed their contracts. Some of the other write
rs had left too, and as usual, all of the burden of the changes had wound up on Blaire's shoulders. “Maybe I'm just over the hill,” she added, sounding humorous, but something about the way she said it worried Allegra. It was what she had seen in her mother's eyes the night before too, and it scared her. She wondered if her father was aware of it, and if it concerned him.

  “Don't be ridiculous, Mom. You've got another thirty or forty years of hits ahead of you,” she said optimistically.

  “Oh, God forbid.” Blaire groaned, just thinking of it. And then she laughed and sounded like her old self again. “I think I'll shoot for another twenty and then hang it up for good.”

  “I'll settle for that,” Allegra said, feeling better about her again, and about Brandon. She was in a much better mood than she had been the day before, and she almost wished she didn't have to leave and go to New York without seeing him. She would have loved to have spent a night with him before leaving.

  She told her mother about the trip to New York, and that she'd be back at the end of the week. She always let them know where she was going.

  “We'll see you when you get back,” her mother said, and thanked her for calling. And after that, Allegra called Carmen. She was not yet hysterical, but she was panicking fairly quickly. The press had laid siege to her front gate, and she said there were hordes of them, waiting to pounce on her if she moved a foot out of her house. After winning her award the night before, she was a hot item. The guards Allegra had hired were there, but Carmen was afraid the press would storm the house if she opened the gate to go out. She was a prisoner in her own home, she hadn't been able to go anywhere since that morning.

  “Isn't there a back gate for deliveries?” Allegra asked, and Carmen said there was, but there were photographers waiting there too, with television cameras from several of the networks.

  “Is Alan coming by?” Allegra asked her pensively, trying to figure a way out for her without a major confrontation with the media.

  “We talked about going to Malibu last night, but he hasn't called, and I didn't want to bother him,” Carmen said, sounding hesitant, but Allegra had an idea, and she was sure Alan wouldn't mind helping Carmen.

  “Do you have any wigs that don't look like you?”

  “A funny black one I wore for Halloween last year.”

  “Good. Hang on to it, you may need it. I'll call Alan.”

  And together they worked out a plan. He was going to come to the main gate, in an old truck he had and rarely drove, so no one would recognize it unless they ran the plates, and by that time they'd be gone. And Allegra suggested he wear a wig too. He had lots of them. She told him to drive to the back of the house and act like he was picking up the maid, and then just drive off again, and hopefully no one would figure out who he was, or that Carmen had left with him.

  “I can let her use the house in Malibu for a few days if she wants, till things settle down again,” he offered helpfully, and Allegra thought Carmen might like that.

  He said he'd pick her up at one o'clock, and Allegra called to tell her, and all of a sudden Carmen was shy and embarrassed about Alan picking her up. She said she didn't want to take advantage of Alan's kindness.

  “Go ahead, take advantage of him,” Allegra teased. “He'd love it.”

  He showed up on schedule at one, they reported to her afterward, wearing a blond wig that made him look like a hippie, and the Chevy truck was so old and dilapidated that no one paid any attention to it at all when he picked up the little Mexican maid with the short black hair, wearing a tank top and bell-bottom blue jeans. She was carrying two paper shopping bags for her days off, and they went back out the gate without anyone giving them a second glance or taking a single picture. It was the perfect escape, and they called Allegra from a gas station ten minutes later.

  “Well done,” she congratulated them. “Now have fun, you two. And don't get into too much trouble while I'm gone.” She reminded Carmen that she'd be at the Regency in New York, and back in L.A. the following weekend, and before they hung up, she thanked Alan for taking care of Carmen.

  “It's not exactly a sacrifice,” he said honestly to his old friend. “I'd be lying to you if I said it was,” he said gently. He was surprised by how much he liked her. He had no idea where it would go between them, but he loved the idea of taking care of her in Allegra's absence. They hadn't even brought her bodyguards. It was going to be just the two of them, at his beach house.

  “You won't get crazy, will you? While I'm gone, I mean. She's a nice girl. … She's very religious, and she's a good kid. … She's not like the rest of the girls we know.” Allegra was groping for the right words, suddenly afraid that he was going to have a wild affair with her and drop her.

  “I understand that, Al. You don't need to spell it out for me. I know. I get it. I'll behave. I swear … more or less, anyway.” He was looking at Carmen longingly as she wandered around in her jeans and tank top just outside the phone booth. “Look, Allie … she's different, I know. … I've never met anyone like her … except maybe you, and that was a long time ago. She's kind of the way we were when we were young, honest, sincere, unspoiled, before we all got cynical and grown-up, and somewhat fucked-up by the people who didn't live up to our expectations. I'm not going to hurt her, Al. I promise you that. I think … never mind…. Just go to New York and mind your own business. And one of these days, when you get back, we'll have a talk about our lives, like the old days.”

  “You got it. Take good care of her.” It was like entrusting him with her younger sister, but she knew what a good man he was, and something in his voice and what he had said to her told her that he cared about her.

  “I love you, Allie. I wish you'd get someone who'd be good to you one of these days, instead of that jerk with the permanent ex-wife and the lifelong divorce. That's not going anywhere, Al, and you know it.”

  “Go screw yourself,” she said pleasantly, and he laughed.

  “Okay. I get it. So go to New York and get laid, at least, it might do you good.”

  “You're disgusting.” She was laughing at him, and a minute later they hung up, and he and Carmen took off their wigs and drove to Malibu. And when they got there, his house was quiet and sunny and peaceful, and completely deserted. She thought it was the prettiest place she'd ever seen, and he was happy to be there with her, and suddenly wished they could stay forever.

  Allegra was on the way to the airport by then. She had called Bram Morrison before she left, and left him the name of her hotel in New York. He liked knowing where she was all the time. It was one of his quirks. The others could all reach her, if they had to, through the office.

  She boarded the plane shortly after three o'clock, in business class, and she sat next to an attorney she knew from a rival law firm. Sometimes it was easy to let oneself believe that the world was full of lawyers. It certainly seemed to be, and it was odd to think, as she flew East, that at that moment Brandon was flying back to L.A. For the moment, at least, they certainly seemed to be going in different directions.

  She read her papers for the movie deal the next day, made some notes, and even had time to read some journals. By the time they got to New York, it was just after midnight. She picked her bag off the carousel, and went outside to hail a cab, and she was surprised to find it was freezing cold. By one o'clock in the morning she was in her room at the hotel, and she was wide awake and wished she could call someone. It was only ten o'clock in L.A., but she knew Brandon wouldn't be home until eleven. So she took a shower, put on her nightgown, turned on the TV, and slipped between immaculate, crisp sheets. It was total luxury, and there was something fun and very grown-up about being in a fancy hotel in New York on business.

  She wished she knew someone to call, or had friends to see. All she had planned to do in New York that week was meet the author she was seeing the next day, and then several other attorneys and agents. It was going to be a busy week, but she had nothing to do at night, except sit in the hotel and watch T
V, or read her legal papers. And lying there, in the enormous bed, she felt like a kid, with a mischievous grin, eating the chocolates they had left at her bedside.

  “What are you laughing at?” she asked the face she saw in the mirror when she went to brush her teeth. “Who told you you were grown-up enough to stay in a place like this, and meet with one of the most important authors in the world? What if they figure out who you are, and you're really just a dumb kid?” The idea that she had made it this far, and had so much responsibility, suddenly seemed funny to her, and she laughed again as she finished brushing her teeth, and went back to the enormous, luxurious bed, and ate the rest of the truffles.

  CHAPTER 5

  The alarm went off at eight o'clock the next day. It was barely light on a snowy January day in New York, and it was still five o'clock in the morning in California. Allegra turned over with a groan, and forgot where she was for a minute or two, and then she remembered the author she had to meet that morning. He was a much older man, and he was leery about anything to do with the movies. But his agent thought it would be a boost to his career at this point, since he was inevitably slowing down. And she had come to New York to help convince the author to let her pursue the deal, at the request of the agent. The agent himself was as illustrious as the people he represented, and having him ask her to come to New York to work on the deal was a feather in Allegra's cap. It was an important step toward her becoming a full partner in her law firm. But as she rolled over in bed, the prospect of meeting with either of them had very little appeal, no matter who they were or how important. It was a cold, snowy day, and she would have been happy to stay in bed all morning.

  As she lay arguing with herself about getting up, her breakfast came, and with it The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal. And by the time she was drinking coffee, and eating oatmeal and croissants with jam, and glancing at the newspapers, the prospect of a day in New York seemed almost exciting. The literary agency where she was going was on Madison Avenue, and the law firm where she had meetings later that afternoon was on Wall Street. And somewhere between the two were a thousand stores, at least as many art galleries, and a plethora of fascinating people. Sometimes just being in New York was a heady experience. There were so many people doing so many interesting things, a myriad of cultural events, opera, concerts, exhibitions of all kinds, theater. It made even Los Angeles seem provincial.