by DeSalvo, Kim
Lynne piped in, “Remember, you can also send us your videos, your favorite recipes, your gardening tips…we cover it all.”
“Meat loaf,” Tia said to the TV. “Two pounds ground chuck, two eggs, lightly beaten, two stalks of celery, finely chopped, one half of a yellow onion, finely chopped…” she dumped the onion into the bowl and continued mixing.
“I ‘Dot’ the I’s,” Dottie smiled…
“I Cross the T’s,” Abigail added…
“And I do whatever I damn well please!” Lynne finished.
“Oh God, really?” Tia groaned, looking briefly at the screen. “Could you be just a little bit cheesier? …half a green pepper, finely chopped…” She added it to the mixture.
Dottie smiled, and looked at the camera. “We’ve got big news to talk about today—the earthquake in India, the plane crash in Norway, and the riots in California—but that’s all bad news. When I go to a friend’s house, I like to start with some light gossip before we hit the heavy stuff. Who’s got the gossip?”
Abigail held up a copy of Person to Person. “Well, looks like this ‘Martini is shaken, stirred, and poured down the drain,” she joked, referring to the headline.
“Ah yes, another Hollywood love story with a nasty ending ladies and gentlemen; what a surprise. Seems like Martin Forbes and Tina Provost have filed for divorce, citing ‘irreconcilable differences.’”
“Do you think one of those ‘differences’ might be Jillian Scoretti, perhaps?” Lynne asked. “She and Martin haven’t exactly been keeping their affair a secret.”
“There was no prenup, either—Tina’s going to make out like a bandit.”
“What’s going on lately?” Dottie said. “It seems like there’s been a huge influx of infidelity the past few months. Here’s another article just sent to me by Faith Mahoney from Lincoln, Nebraska—thanks Faith!—about yet another politician…people who ask for our trust.” The headline popped up on the screen and Dottie summarized. “Senator Paul Husteller was arrested yesterday at his office on charges of fraud and misappropriation of campaign funds. It seems that Senator Husteller needed the money to keep his mistress fed, clothed, and housed in a fancy apartment near his office. His wife of fifteen years hasn’t been reached for comment.”
“Let’s talk about commitment for a minute, can we do that?”
“Sure, why not,” Tia said out loud, wiping two fingers on a towel and measuring in some Worcestershire sauce.
“Does it really exist anymore? Do we, as a society, even care?” Dottie said. “I know there are lots of studies out there, but the majority of them average out to half of all marriages ending in divorce.”
“Actually, that’s only first marriages,” Abigail chimed in. “When you start talking about second marriages the number jumps to over sixty-five percent, and it’s almost seventy-five for third marriages.”
“So, if you don’t get it right the first time, you’re even less likely to find Mr. Right?”
“Seems so,” Dottie said. “Which brings me back to commitment. Do you think that a man in power…that is, a celebrity, a politician, a wealthy business owner…is more likely to cheat?”
“I think a guy like that has more temptation,” Lynne said. “Women tend to gravitate toward men with money and power, and I personally think that they believe they’re more likely to get away with it. Some of them even think they deserve it.”
“Not all men are assholes,” Tia yelled at the screen. “I’ve got a good one!”
“Do you think it’s some kind of testosterone power trip or something?” Lynne offered. “Let’s face it—you don’t see women getting busted for this sort of thing; you just don’t hear about women keeping—what would be the male version of a mistress?”
“I’d call it a gigolo,” Tia said. She wiped her fingertips on a towel and read, “one tablespoon garlic powder; salt and pepper.” She measured out the garlic powder and sprinkled in the other spices.
“I think that would be a gigolo,” Dottie said, “if she’s paying the bills.”
“What kind of message does this send to young people,” Abigail asked, “if these role models—and like it or not, they are—don’t model that commitment is important; that you have to keep your promises and work through your problems?”
“I’ll tell you what we need,” Lynne said, “are more Dylan Millers.”
Tia’s ears perked up and she turned her full attention to the screen. “Amen to that,” she said, “Except there’s only one, and he’s all mine.”
“I mean, there’s a guy who went the extra mile to stay faithful to the woman he loves.”
“I agree, but that brings me to another point,” Abigail said. “It’s been big news not because of their beautiful love story, but because of the betrayal by Penelope Valentine that went along with it. If it weren’t for that, it wouldn’t even be a story. We really need to focus more on situations like that—on men who are worthy of admiration. I think it’s incredibly sexy that he got on the first plane to find his lost love after he found out how he’d been played.”
“I just think he’s incredibly sexy,” Lynne purred. “But you’re right. We don’t hear about the beautiful love stories because they don’t make for ‘interesting news.’”
“You can say that again,” Tia said to the TV. “But I repeat; he’s all mine!”
“I, for one, don’t agree,” Dottie said. “In fact, I think it makes for great news!” She looked into the camera. “We want to hear about your great love stories—put them on our Facebook page or our website or email them to us. We’ll share some of your stories and pictures on the air over the next couple weeks.”
“How about we pick some of the best ones and give them a romantic dinner or something?”
“We can do that! You, the audience, can vote for the winners!”
They high-fived each other, and went to a commercial. Tia patted the concoction into a loaf, placed it in the pan, and put it in the oven. When the show came back on they moved on to the plane crash, and Tia turned off the TV and fired up another InHap album, sinking back into harmony and letting her mind wander over how lucky she was.
When they were in high school, and boys had really started to matter, she and Lexi had planned their dream weddings. Lexi’s was going to be on the Fourth of July even then, on a huge boat in the middle of Lake Michigan so she could see the fireworks displays from all directions. She was going to have a famous band playing the music—she couldn’t say who, because her favorites at the time changed on an almost weekly basis—and she was going to arrive for the ceremony on a helicopter that would lower her onto the ship as she sat on a swing, the ropes decked out in tulle and ribbons with sparklers lit all along the skids of the chopper.
Tia’s was going to be on a white sand beach in a tropical paradise. She’d arrive on a tiny sailboat decorated with the most amazing flowers and palm fronds and pulled by trained dolphins at sunset. She leaned back in her chair and smiled. No trained dolphins, perhaps, but she felt incredibly lucky that she was going to see that dream come to fruition with a man more amazing than she could have ever dreamed.
The details were coming together so well she could hardly believe it; and the best part was that she and Dylan agreed on just about everything. The wedding party was selected; they’d decided that to keep with the intimate feel, they’d each ask two people to stand with them as they made their vows. Tia asked Lexi and Jessa, and Dylan asked Bo and his friend Max from England. They’d finalized the menus for all four days; opting for lots of fresh local produce and seafood, buffet lunches so people could eat at their leisure and enjoy the amenities of the island, a barbecue night on the beach, a surf and turf dinner, and more formal dinners on the rehearsal and wedding nights. The guest list was nearly final, invitations and table cards were ordered, and transportation was in the works. Today, she’d see about the most important detail by far—her dresses.
Dylan had been right when he said there would be dozens of des
igners wanting to create her wedding weekend wardrobe, and she’d spent hours pouring over sketches and sorting through fabric samples that were sent to her. She knew that whatever she chose would end up being plastered over all sorts of media, and that anyone and everyone would put their two cents into the outcome. Tia didn’t care—she was going choose a designer who would give her what she wanted. She wasn’t into the super fancy, heavily beaded gowns—she wanted something light and “beachy;” something she could dance in.
After weeks of deliberation, she decided that Gus Vecstrom was just the man for the job. A week ago she’d met with one of his assistants for an initial fitting, and they’d video chatted on two occasions so he could get to know her a bit. Today he was in Chicago for a show, and he invited Tia and the girls to meet with him so he could ‘capture their essences’ for the final designs of the wedding gowns. He had some samples ready, and she could hardly wait to see them.
The girls were going to make a day of it. Dylan arranged a fabulous dinner and a room at the W, and Tia was positively glowing when the front desk called up to tell her that her car was ready.
She, Jessa, and Lexi arrived at the hotel in the late afternoon and were greeted personally by Gus at the door. He waved to several attendants who efficiently scrambled to pour champagne and place crystal platters of canapés around the seating area. Gus pulled Tia into the room, kissed both her cheeks, and took her face in his hands.
“Best wishes to you, pretty one,” he said smiling and nodding his head. He looked straight into her eyes and she smiled at him as he studied her features. “Seafoam green,” he said in a low voice. “I was right about the eyes.”
“I can’t tell you how thrilled I am that you agreed to make my wedding dress,” Tia said shyly. “I really admire your work, and it’s truly an honor to wear one of your creations.”
He waved his hand in dismissal. “I am the one who is honored,” he said in his heavy Dutch accent. “I admire your future husband’s work, too, and I’m happy to play my small part.”
He was seriously under exaggerating. Gus had designed wardrobes for many stars, and was regularly featured in magazines and on television. He had a gift for matching the dress to the person, and his pieces were revered as works of art, not simply clothing.
The girls each took a flute of champagne, and Gus motioned that they sit on the long couch that sat in the center of the large room.
He chatted with them for nearly an hour, asking them about their favorite colors, what they liked, and how they were part of Tia’s life. As he talked, he studied their features, their movements, their mannerisms. Finally, he stood and summoned his attendants, who had remained observant on the edges of the room, only moving to refill champagne glasses.
“The bride, she goes last,” he announced. “Who is the maid of honor?”
“That would be me,” Lexi said.
He turned to Jessa. “We start with you, my dear.”
One of his assistants was on her feet immediately, awaiting his instructions. “I think I know exactly what to do,” he said smiling. “My instincts usually don’t fail me. Monique, start with number two.”
The woman nodded, plucked a dress bag from one of the many rolling racks scattered about, and led Jessa into another room.
When she emerged a few minutes later, Tia and Lexi gasped simultaneously. Jessa would be the first to admit that she didn’t give her wardrobe much thought; her usual mode of dress was a pair of loose fitting pants and a t-shirt; but she stepped out of that room positively transformed. To say she was glowing would have been an understatement, and she grinned wide when she saw the expressions on her friends’ faces. She walked over to the three-way mirror that stood in one corner of the room and took in her image, her smile lighting up her entire face. “Wow. I didn’t think I could ever look this good,” she said, examining herself from all angles and then spinning on her heel; causing the hem to flutter like a butterfly.
She looked like a sunset, and the soft layers of pale orange fading into orange-red complimented her darker skin tone like they were a part of her. The loose fabric swirled when she moved, causing the colors to shift and blend, and Tia could imagine the sea breezes lifting it just slightly and setting the colors into motion. The jagged hem ended mid-calf, and the long waist made Jessa look taller than her five-foot-two frame. There wasn’t really a sleeve; instead the fabric seemed to spill over the top of her arms, leaving her neckline and shoulders bare.
“You like?” Gus asked rhetorically. Tia and Lexi were both speechless for a moment as they took in the sheer beauty of the creation.
“Oh Jess, it’s absolutely gorgeous,” Tia said. “I know it’s silly to say that it looks like it was made for you, because it was, but I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.”
“I know—it’s spectacular, right? I feel like a dream!”
Gus let them gush over the dress for a few minutes before saying, “OK, now you, Miss Lexi,” indicating with his finger. “Number three for her.” Monique checked a few tags, took a bag off the rack, and led Lexi into the same room while Jessa continued to contemplate her image in the mirror.
Lexi’s dress was entirely different, and just as suited to her. “Ooooh!” Tia and Jessa sighed in unison as she stepped out and did a turn in front of them. Her dress was the sky; several shades of blue swirled together so subtly that it looked like a different color from every angle. It seemed to almost mimic the blue of her eyes, and her blonde hair cascaded down like beams of sunlight. Her dress was strapless, a bit longer than Jessa’s, and had a long scarf that wrapped around her neck and fell gracefully down her back. It accentuated all of her best features, and was definitively Lexi. Tia had tears in her eyes when she got up and hugged her maid of honor. “It’s so perfect,” she whispered. Lexi did another twirl, and Tia again imagined how incredible it would look on the Caribbean beach, set to fluttering by the ocean breezes. Jessa stepped up next to Lexi in front of the mirror, and they marveled at how different their dresses were, but how well they went together.
They all stopped and turned to Tia. “Now,” Gus said reverently, “we dress the beautiful bride. Number one, Monique. I should know by now to trust my first instincts when it comes to the bride.” He winked at Tia as she followed the slender woman and closed the door behind her.
There was no mirror in the room, and it was lit mainly by a few dozen candles in stands and on the dressing table, so Tia didn’t really get a good look at the gown before she put it on. It weighed close to nothing; soft and airy layers fluttered every time she moved, and she didn’t feel the least bit restricted. She couldn’t wait to get to the mirror so she could see it, but she stopped short when she caught the looks on her best friends’ faces. Lexi gasped, and raised her hand to cover her mouth. Her eyes were wide, and brimmed with tears. Jessa’s hand flew to cover her heart, and her smile said it all.
“Oh. My. God,” Lexi finally said. “Dylan is going to die when he sees you in that dress.”
“I’ve never seen a more perfect bride,” Jessa agreed.
Gus took Tia by the hand and turned her in a slow circle before walking her over to the mirror. Tia took in her image, unable to believe the gown she was wearing. If Lexi was the sky and Jessa was the sunset, she was the sea; not traditional white but instead the color of the inside of a shell, with the impossible greens and turquoises of the Caribbean subtly swirled in. There was some light beadwork on the bodice that caught every ray of light in the room and tossed it in a different direction. The hem was just past her knees in the front and hung longer in the back where a short train brushed just slightly along the ground. She could picture how it would look skimming the sand; as if the waves were gently rushing up to meet the shore. The simple veil was multi-layered and so sheer it was nearly invisible. It was scalloped at the edges, with tiny ‘waves’ of the palest sea green incorporated subtly on the lowest layer. It was held in place by a beaded clip that sat at the top of her head and glittered with the muted
colors of the fabric. She took one more look in the mirror and then turned back to her friends. “Oh my God, this is my wedding dress!” she exclaimed, her voice breaking. She turned to Gus and bowed her head slightly in thanks. “It’s unbelievably perfect,” she breathed, and hugged Lexi and Jessa who had jumped off the couch to embrace her.
“I have several other designs,” Gus said. “These were merely my first instincts. Would you like to see them?”
The three girls walked to the mirror and stared at their combined reflection. “I think I’m good,” Lexi said, pursing her lips. “Jessa?”
“Oh, I’m definitely good,” she smiled. “Couldn’t be better.”
They both turned to Tia. “I’m spectacular,” she grinned. “I don’t think we need to see anything else.”
She went to Gus and lifted her arms to hug him. “It’s far from finished,” he scolded, gently pushing her away. “Enjoy it for a moment longer, but then you must all stand still while we get them prepared for alterations so I can complete them. Then I’ll certainly take that hug.”
“I sure hope we’re going to be on a beach somewhere,” Lexi said. “These are perfect for a seaside wedding!”
“They’re just perfect for any wedding,” Jessa replied, “but I’d love the beach, too.”
Tia just smiled. They took one final look, then reluctantly stood while Monique and another woman gathered and pinned and measured before they shed the dresses and handed them back into Gus’s capable hands.
“Thank you,” Tia whispered as she wrapped her arms around Gus’s neck and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “They couldn’t be more perfect.”