Jillian chuckled. Her grandmother was just like her dad, melodramatic. “The dress is perfect, Grandma. You’ll love it.”
She led Jillian to her bedroom where a metal suitcase sat on an ottoman at the foot of her bed. It looked old. “And if I don’t? Am I allowed to buy you a different one?”
Jillian peered at the suitcase and wondered what was inside. “No. If you don’t like it, I’ll wear jeans and marry Lex inside the Globe. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we have a doctor on standby in case your heart stops.” Jillian glanced up and caught her grandmother’s smile before she pasted a stern look on her face. Her grandmother might complain about her ways, but she enjoyed sparring with her. Jillian went back to peering at the box. “What’s in it?”
“Patience.” Her grandmother sat on the bed while Jillian hovered. She was never good at waiting, and she hated surprises. “These are some of the things that have been passed down to women in our family for generations,” her grandmother said, punching in the combination to unlock the steel suitcase. Then she opened the lid.
Inside it were two leather boxes. One was rectangular. The other was round like a hatbox. They looked old and had a crest or emblem of two lions on their lids. The first one, when she lifted it, had a silk wedding bouquet of ivory roses, blue hydrangea, and orchids. The blue satin around the stems had matching satin gloves.
“My mother used this on her wedding day and so did I,” she said, reaching out, to touch the petals. “Your mother would have used it if I had known about her marriage. Now it is yours. One day, you can pass it down to your daughter. It could be your something blue.”
Jillian lifted the flowers from their satin bed, her throat tightening. She couldn’t express how she felt. She’d planned to use fresh flowers, but this… The blue was a shade lighter than the color she’d chosen for the bridesmaids’ outfits, but she didn’t care. This was a bouquet that had history. Her history.
“And this could be your something old,” her grandmother continued, lifting a tiara from inside the round box. “It’s not as sparkly as modern tiaras, but the porcelain roses were handcrafted by our people and the freshwater pearls were artfully added. The diamonds may not sparkle as bright as—”
“Stop, Grandma,” Jillian said. She took the tiara and put it back in its box, tears rushing to her eyes. She hugged her grandmother. “Thank you.”
Alin wrapped her arms around her shaking frame. “There, now. No need to carry on like this. You are a Zakarian. We carry ourselves with dignity.”
“Screw dignity.”
She didn’t realize she’d spoken, until her grandmother chuckled and leaned back. Jillian found herself getting even more emotional as she stared into the same turquoise eyes she’d inherited through her father.
Her grandmother wiped the wetness from Jillian’s cheeks. “You swear like a sailor, but I understand why you use such words this time. In the future, bite your tongue or your inner cheek. My granddaughter must watch every word coming out of her mouth at all times.” She smiled. “So you will carry on the family tradition?”
Like she needed to ask. “Yes, Tatik.”
“Good. You’ll have a throwaway bouquet because you can never throw these away. You are now the keeper of our tradition and you must pass it down to the next generation. One day, your daughter will use it, and then your granddaughter.” She secured the tiara in its box, placed the bouquet in the satin bed, and closed the boxes. “I’ve found the perfect pomanders for your bridesmaids, and corsages for me and Estelle. Oh, she has exquisite taste and a very efficient wedding planner making sure her wishes are met. They promised to deliver arrangements for the banquet hall and the gardens, and the candelabras with flowers for the tables. Estelle showed me the pictures on her, uh, tablet.”
Jillian blinked, completely blindsided. “I didn’t know you were working with Lex’s mother.”
“How else am I supposed to plan your wedding in this foreign land? She might have brought in the wedding planner, but I am standing in for your mother. Your father is clueless. Not that he would ever admit it. Men.” She started for the door, walking more briskly than earlier. “Estelle and I want you to approve our plans before he gets here. He argues a lot, but offers no solution. Just like your grandfather.”
Jillian followed her out of the bedroom, totally bemused. She loved it when her grandmother reminisced about her past. “How many bridesmaids did you have in your wedding?”
“The traditional six, and I wore white. Those days white meant something.” She threw Jillian a knowing glance.
“Are you saying you and Grandpa never did it before tying the knot?”
She made a sound that was part disapproval, part annoyance. “Of course not.”
“You sure you were in love?”
“Very much so. And the wait was worth it. Your grandfather was a very virile man.”
Too much info, but she couldn’t stop now. “Oh, details, please.”
“You are impossible.”
Jillian was still laughing when they entered the living room. Troy and Douglas had finally made it upstairs, and from the way they stood apart from Narek, the Armenian wasn’t happy to see them either.
Jillian’s grandmother studied Douglas. “I know you. You are Fitzgerald’s man.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Douglas said, bowing slightly. “Douglas, and this is Troy Preston.”
She glanced at Troy briefly before focusing on Douglas. “So what are you doing in my home?”
Pink crept up Douglas’ neck.
“Leave him alone, Grandma,” Jillian rushed to his rescue. “They came with me.”
“He can’t speak for himself?” she asked, continuing to pin Douglas down with a stern look. She was taking out her issues with Lex on poor Douglas. Jillian didn’t know how to fix things, but she couldn’t help wondering if her grandmother and her father would bond over their mutual mistrust for Lex.
Jillian sighed. “Of course, he can. Quit harassing him.”
“Are you guarding my granddaughter, Mr. Douglas, or just driving her around?”
“I do both, ma’am.” There was relief in Douglas’ eyes.
“What credentials do you have that make you qualified to be her bodyguard?” her grandmother asked.
Poor Douglas’ relief was short lived. Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “I’m not at liberty to share my qualifications, ma’am. Suffice to say that I can detect a threat and neutralize it.”
“I see,” her grandmother said, and Jillian couldn’t help wondering if she really did. Douglas talked like a super spy. Neutralize it, sheesh.
Troy flashed a toothy grin when she studied him like she would a mangy stray that had wandered into her home.
“And what do you do, Mr. Preston?”
“I’m Ms. Jillian’s assistant, ma’am,” Troy said. “I fetch, carry, advise, and listen without judging.”
“Do you approve of what she’s wearing right now?”
Troy shot Jillian a glance. She glared at him and indicated decapitation.
Her grandmother clapped to draw his attention. “Don’t look at her. Do you think she’s dressed appropriately?”
Troy shot Jillian an apologetic look, then said, “No, ma’am. She knows my opinion on her wardrobe. I hope one day she’ll listen to me and throw the whole lot out, so we can start from scratch.”
“Traitor,” Jillian cut in.
Her grandmother grinned. “I think I like this young man, Jillian. Give me your arm, Troy. May I call you Troy?” He cocked his arm, and she gripped it. She glanced at Zorah. “Book two tables for us downstairs, dear. Tell the pastry chef we’ll be there in an hour for tea. She knows the drinks and pastries Jillian and I like.” Alin’s focus shifted to Jillian. “She asked how you were doing. I told her you were fine. All this will blow over. Nice girl. A bit high-strung, but she makes the best pastry in this town. Do you like tea, my dear,” she asked Troy, leading him toward the door.
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Petrosian. The selec
tion at Parq is superb.”
“I agree. Have you tried the rooibos bourbon tea?”
Jillian half listened to their discussion about tea as she followed them from the suite and into the hallway. Having tea at Parq was something they did whenever Jillian stopped to visit her. Her grandmother always asked for the Armenian blend. Jillian was sure they’d probably bought a sack of it just for her. She, on the other hand, often ordered pomegranate tea with lemon myrtle.
Douglas and Narek took the rear and talked in whispers, probably plotting the best way to kill her grandmother. Poor Narek. It couldn’t be easy working for her. Even Jillian barely tolerated her high-handedness. Case in point, their afternoon tea at Parq.
The variety of teas was amazing, but the hand-painted china was tiny and so delicate Jillian often worried about snapping the handle off her cup. The sandwiches and the pastries were to die for too, but the servings were small.
“Is my granddaughter ready for her wedding?” She heard her grandmother ask. The nosy old bird. Jillian stared at the panels inside the elevator and faked disinterest, but she cocked her head to catch Troy’s response.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Her hair, shoes, nails, and gown are all arranged.”
“Have you seen the gown?”
“No, but the designer said it was her best work. She does exquisite needlework. You should pay her showroom a visit while you are in town, Mrs. Petrosian.”
Jillian grinned. Her grandmother would like Faith. They’d bond over fashion, or Jillian’s lack of it. Her grandmother stopped and waved her forward. She took Jillian’s arm and led her to the hotel’s terrace. The terrace had Mediterranean architecture, arches, lush, artfully sculptured gardens, and inlaid tiles between the flowerbeds and grass. A gorgeous water fountain dominated the central section.
“This is where the wedding ceremony will take place,” her grandmother said.
“Here?”
“Yes. The arch can be there.” She pointed to the top of the nearest steps.
Jillian ignored the few guests enjoying tea out in the garden and visualized her wedding—the place packed with friends and relatives, a decorated pavilion, and a live band playing the wedding march. She smiled. They walked around, her grandmother’s description vivid. Narek followed them faithfully. Douglas and Troy had disappeared.
“And now for the ballroom.” She led Jillian into a hall with a paneled ceiling, gorgeous chandeliers, and draperies. “This is the Marquesa. It is large enough to hold the large number of guests invited. The opera balconies are perfect for throwing bouquets.”
Her father thought he could pay for this? “It is gorgeous.”
“I thought so, too. They cater, but we are going to go with Eros. I like their food.”
So did Jillian. Her first date with Lex was at Eros. Jillian wondered what she would have done without her grandmother and Lex’s mother. Probably eloped like CGEN channel had suggested.
They headed back inside to Parq. A waitress escorted them to her grandmother’s favorite table by a harpist playing a melodic tune. Douglas and Troy were back. They tried to resist joining them for tea, but no man could stand up to Alin Petrosian once she made up her mind. She had them seated and ordering from the gentlemen’s menu before they knew what hit them. Lucky for them, the men’s menu had pies and cakes, not dainty sandwiches Jillian could easily eat in two bites.
The service was great as usual. The sandwiches, pastries, and assorted desserts were scrumptious. Her grandmother loved raspberry macaroons and chocolate torte, while Jillian preferred buttercream scones. The scones were served warm and fresh, the jams tasty, and the spread so smooth it melted in their mouths.
After her first tea, Jillian had learned to just copy her grandmother. Taking dainty sips. Nibbling on the sandwiches. Sticking out her pinky as she sipped tea.
She almost choked on her drink when her grandmother said, “I’ve already booked a suite for you and the bridesmaids for tomorrow night. Regular check-in time is four o’clock, but the manager has been very accommodating. You can check in anytime after one. You have a spa appointment at two-thirty.”
Jillian put her cup down and dabbed her lips with the napkin. “You didn’t have to do this, Grandma. I have my place. It’s close enough.”
“Jillian, your little apartment is charming, but there’s hardly enough room for all of us.”
“All of you?” Jillian asked, thoroughly confused.
“You, your bridesmaids, flower girls, and ring bearer. Estelle, the mothers of the flower girls, and me. Then there’s the hair and makeup people Troy said would come to get you ready. No, it’s been decided. You’re checking into a suite here. Even your father agreed it was a good idea.” Alin paused to take a dainty sip of her tea. “Troy will make sure your hairstylist brings enough helpers to take care of everyone’s hair. If he can’t, there’s a hair salon right here. They can come upstairs and take care of us all. I’ll be using their services. Ah, here comes Estelle. And your father.”
Her father, who was wearing a suit after saying he wouldn’t. And it wasn’t his stage suit either. She got up to give him a hug, and Douglas stood too. Jillian thought he was standing out of respect, until he pressed a hand to his neck. His face seemed different.
“Douglas,” Jillian said, frowning. “What is it?”
“I need a doctor,” he said, sounding funny.
“Someone call 9-1-1,” Jillian shouted and hurried to his side. “What happened?”
“Tea.”
She urged him back in his seat and yelled to the others to get help. People got up from their tables and moved closer to gawk. Jillian overheard Troy demand to talk to the person in charge. Their voices faded as her concern for Douglas escalated.
His eyes were swollen now. He had to be allergic to whatever he’d ingested. She asked the others to move out of the way so he could lie down. If his face was swollen, his tongue and throat were, too. He might have difficulty breathing.
“What did he eat?” Estelle asked.
“He didn’t eat anything, just the tea.” Troy pointed at Douglas’ cup. “Three cups of it.”
“What kind of tea?”
“Pomegranate with lemon myrtle.”
“That’s my favorite tea. He must be allergic to something in it,” Jillian said. She always ordered that same tea, but had changed her mind today and went with ginger- green tea.
The manager arrived, bowed to Alin first, looking completely ridiculous, before focusing on Jillian. “What’s going on, Ms. Finnegan? Is he sick?”
“He is allergic to something in your tea. We need an ambulance.”
“And tell these people to go back to their tables,” her grandmother ordered. “There’s nothing here for them to gawk at.”
Her attention shifted when a scream came from a different table. Two more followed. “My friend needs help,” someone yelled.
“My mommy,” a little girl screamed.
People stopped drinking and got up from their tables. The manager hurried to the other tables, and it didn’t take long to realize that the people affected had ordered pomegranate tea with lemon myrtle. What were the chances that several people would be allergic to the same ingredient at the same time? Slim. Something else was going on.
There was mass exodus from the restaurant. Some almost collided with the EMTs rushing into the room with a stretcher. Chaos followed as everyone yelled for help. Parq workers stood around doing nothing, completely blindsided by what was going on. The desk manager looked ready to have a heart attack, and Douglas was turning blue.
“Dad, do something,” Jillian yelled.
Estelle and her dad took charge and brought the two EMTs to Douglas. One put an oxygen mask on him while another started an IV. The other guests started yelling and complaining.
“Hey! He reacted first,” Jillian yelled as a man marched to the EMT and demanded they treat his wife. “He gets seen first, so back off.”
“My wife is pregnant,” the man yell
ed. “What was in that tea? If she lost the baby…”
The rest of his words were swallowed by the desk manager’s voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, please, stay calm until the situation is handled. Please, do not panic. The paramedics will see all of you.”
They turned on him.
Jillian focused on Douglas. He looked bad. He didn’t seem to be getting better. Jillian pulled out her cell phone and dialed Lex’s number.
He picked up after one ring. “Hey, sweetheart.”
“Douglas is sick, Lex. He drank pomegranate tea at Parq and now he can’t breathe. So many people are affected. I don’t think it’s an allergy. I think they were poisoned.”
“Whoa, sweetheart,” Lex said. “Slow down. Poisoned?”
“Or something.” Her voice shook slightly. “His face is swollen, and he’s not getting better.”
“Where are you?”
“The Montage. The paramedics are trying to help, but nothing is working.” More EMTs arrived and so did the cops. They started rolling Douglas toward the exit.
“I’m going with him,” Jillian said, and something in her voice had the EMT nodding. She glanced over at her father then her grandmother and Lex’s mother. She hoped they understood. Douglas needed her.
“I’ll follow in the Escalade,” Troy said.
“I’m going to the hospital with Douglas,” she told Lex. “The police just arrived too. I think… I think someone put something in the tea, Lex. It’s my favorite tea.”
CHAPTER 9
In the Cedar Sinai ER, they whisked Douglas away and left Jillian and Troy pacing in the waiting room. No one was giving them answers. By the time Lex stormed into the ER, followed by Dom, Jillian was ready to commit mayhem. Instead, tears of relief rushed into her eyes.
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