S'more to Lose

by Beth Merlin

  “Do we get a say in this?” I looked over at Jamie. “What do you think?”

  “It’s Anna Wintour, Gi. If she loves it, great. If she doesn’t, well then, fuck her.”

  “Excellent. Thank you for your two cents.”

  “What do you want me to say? I’m really not worried about it. The wedding gown is beyond.”

  “You finished the sketch of the gown?” Jordana screeched.

  I picked up the pad and handed it to her.

  Jordana looked it over and shook her head. “Holy crap, Gigi, this is the most exquisite dress I’ve ever seen. What about those gems around the collar, what are you thinking you’ll use for those?”

  “I thought we could reach out to Swarovski. Maybe even Cartier or Tiffany?”

  “Oh, we can do better than that. Who owns the crown jewels? The royal family or the government? I’ll send Gemma an email.”

  Jamie and I spent the next few days in the studio, finalizing the wedding looks and coordinating with our production team to ensure we could get the fabrics and materials we needed in time. We barely left the space long enough to shower and grab a quick bite before coming right back to the office. Gideon told me he was happy to wander around the city and hit up some museums and shows while I was working. He even dropped takeout from Wo-Hop off at the studio for us one night when we were too wrapped up to leave for dinner.

  I promised Gideon I’d make it up to him over the weekend with a getaway trip to my parents’ house in East Hampton. It was the perfect spot for two people looking to escape the hustle and bustle of the city for a few days while still having access to great shopping, restaurants, and beaches. May was still considered off-season in the Hamptons so I hoped we wouldn’t have to deal with the same crowds and traffic as in the height of the summer.

  We caught the last Jitney out of the city Friday night. A little over two hours later, it dropped us in front of The Palm Restaurant on Main Street where we grabbed a taxi to the house.

  My parents’ summer home was no Badgley Hall, but it was absolutely beautiful in its own right. Situated on a remote corner of Georgica Pond, it was a charming cottage-style home my mother had spent the better part of the last two decades renovating and decorating. A few years ago, it had been photographed for an article in Better Homes and Gardens featuring Hampton’s estates. Although our home was one of the smaller houses spotlighted, my mother’s taste and ability to mix gorgeous vintage pieces with super modern ones made the house quite the showpiece.

  I knew Gideon would love the quiet and serenity of the grounds and the pond. It reminded me quite a bit of some of the spots Jamie and I had driven through in South Gloucestershire on our way to Badgley Hall.

  I was right. Gideon immediately responded to the property’s rustic beauty, rushing down to get a closer look at Georgica Pond.

  “So, this is your namesake? I can certainly understand why.”

  I took a few steps toward the shore. “My parents named me Georgica before they bought this house. The name was supposed to provide the inspiration to actually make the dream of living here happen. At first, they couldn’t afford more than just the land. Then, each year, they added to the property and eventually got their dream of a home on Georgica Pond.” I turned back to Gideon. “It’s funny, I used to hate coming out here. Summer in the Hamptons was never my thing. I was more of a Camp Chinooka girl. But now, I’m proud of what they built. None of this was handed to them.”

  Gideon’s posture stiffened. “Like Badgley Hall, you mean.”

  “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking of Badgley Hall.”

  Gideon dug his hands into his pockets and looked down to the ground. “A lot of people feel the way you do about inherited wealth and estates.”

  I tilted Gideon’s chin up. “I’m so sorry. Open mouth. Insert foot.”

  He squinted and pointed to the dock. “Is that a rowboat?”

  “My mother bought it as a gift for my father a few years ago.”

  “What do you say we take it for a spin?”

  Right there—the difference between Gideon and Perry. A thoughtless comment like the one I’d just made would’ve resulted in a full-blown argument with Perry, who often relished in the push and pull of our dynamic. Gideon was more easygoing. Our connection was less kinetic, but in other ways, sounder. After Joshua, I’d convinced myself the only relationship worth having was a complicated one. Now, looking over at Gideon’s warm, welcoming face, I wasn’t sure why I’d ever bought into that notion.

  After exploring some of Georgica Pond, we went back to the house to figure out our evening. I rattled off a list of nearby restaurants I thought would be Gideon’s speed, but he surprised me and asked if he could make us dinner instead. I took him to my favorite market, known for their amazing seafood and produce. As soon as we walked in, he grabbed a cart and made a beeline to the cheese counter while I headed over to the wine section.

  Gideon hadn’t let me in on his menu, so I picked up a bottle of red and a bottle of white and put them into my basket. I wandered up and down the aisles, tossing in a few items for us for the weekend, and then made my way over to the checkout line to wait for him. I thumbed through a few magazines and then finally saw him emerging from the bakery section, his cart loaded with items.

  My eyes widened. “What’s all this?”

  “I was a bit overwhelmed. The selection here is so much better than in the UK markets. This nice woman helped me streamline my menu.” He pointed over to a woman a bit older than my mother who was checking out in a different line.

  “Whoa, that’s Ina Garten,” I whispered.

  “Who?”

  “The Barefoot Contessa. She has a show on the Food Network. She used to have a famous market in West Hampton.”

  “What do you mean barefoot?” he said with his eyes fixed on her sandals.

  “It was the name of her store, I think? Anyway, she helped you with the menu?”

  He pulled a bunch of scraps of paper with notes all over them out from his pocket. “She did better than that. She wrote out a few recipes. We better get home and get to it unless you want dinner to be breakfast.”

  Gideon barricaded himself in the kitchen, absolutely refusing to let me in to help. Every fifteen minutes or so I shouted to him to see if I could do anything to help, and he’d shout back that he was fine. The banging and clanging of pots and pans had me thinking otherwise, but I let him do his thing. I wandered out to the pool area, sat down on a lounge chair, and pulled out my phone, which had been buzzing on and off for the better part of the last hour.

  On the screen were half a dozen Twitter and text notifications. I opened the first one and quickly read the headline, “Elizabeth Wins a Record 9 Olivier Awards.” I opened the article and scrolled down to the list of categories. Perry’d won Best Actor in a Musical and his co-star, Best Actress. The actor and actress playing Queen Mary Tudor and Sir Francis Walsingham won for Best Actor and Actress in a Supporting Role in a Musical. It also won for Best Set Design, Best Director, Best Theatre Choreographer, Best Costume Design, and of course, Best New Musical.

  It was everything Perry had ever wished for and dreamed of when he started writing the show. My instinct was to call and congratulate him. Sure, we’d left things on less than great terms, but this feat transcended all that. I wanted him to know how incredibly proud and in awe I was of this monumental accomplishment. I’d just started dialing Perry’s number when Alicia beeped through. I answered.

  “Hey, how are you?” she asked.

  “I’m good. I’m in the Hamptons with Viscount Gideon,” I replied.

  “I am going to require a full debrief when you’re back in the city.”

  “Of course. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. I was worried about you after all the articles about the Olivier Awards, but it sounds like you’re totally handling things.”

  “Yeah, I just saw the news. Honestly, I’m thrilled for him. How could I no
t be? It’s everything he’s worked for all these years.”

  “Right, yeah. I knew you’d be okay with all that. I meant more the Annabelle stuff?”

  My stomach dropped. “What Annabelle stuff?”

  “Perry took her to the award show as his date. Their relationship is all over the news. If you thought the media was excited about Victoria and Prince Alexander, this is a whole ’nother level. Perry’s so hot right now, and because of how guarded she is, Annabelle’s love life has always fascinated the press.”

  I leaned all the way back into the lounge chair and sighed heavily into the phone.

  “Gigi, don’t let this ruin your weekend with Gideon,” Alicia chided. “I know you. Don’t start obsessively reading articles about last night. They’re together. You’ve known for weeks. The fact the world now knows about it too doesn’t change a thing.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “It doesn’t,” she said resolutely. “Now go back to your duke or whatever he is, and try to forget about all this.”

  I hung up the phone and immediately typed Annabelle Ellicott and Perry Gillman into Google. I clicked on the first article in the Daily Mail and started reading.

  Will the Ellicotts have a double wedding on their hands? It’s been reported that Annabelle Ellicott is dating composer and creator of the West End hit Elizabeth, Perry Gillman. The gorgeous couple was photographed together at the Olivier Awards in London last evening. While Perry donned a classic tuxedo, Annabelle looked ravishing in a light pink Dior gown. Pulled from the spring collection, the sheer stunner had a bustier top and a full tulle skirt. This marks the first public appearance for the couple rumored to have been dating for several months now.

  I stopped when I heard Gideon calling to let me know dinner was ready. I tucked the phone into the pocket of my jean jacket and went through the double French doors into the kitchen. Gideon was finishing plating the last of the dishes.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Oh, I’m fine, just hungry,” I answered.

  “Well, I can remedy that,” he said. “Grab this last plate, and let’s head into the dining room.”

  “Want to eat outside, instead? It’s warmed up a bit, and the sunset off the pond is something to see.”

  “Sure, I’m game. Let me grab the rest of the food and wine.”

  Gideon went to the dining room to collect the platters, while I set the outside table. A few minutes later he joined me, and we sat down to eat.

  “That Ina Garten sure knows what she’s doing,” he said, serving me some incredible-looking salmon cakes.

  I picked up a heaping forkful. “It seems you both do.”

  Gideon picked up his glass of wine. “A toast to us and a wonderful weekend away.”

  I put down my fork and lifted my glass to meet his. “To us,” I said, clinking our glasses together.

  Gideon pointed to my jacket. “Your pocket’s vibrating.”

  I put my hand over it. “It must be Jordana.”

  Without even looking, I knew it was Jordana, calling to ask if I’d seen the news about Perry and Annabelle. I was positive she was already having a meltdown over all the possible PR implications if the press found out about my past relationship.

  “Do you want to get it?”

  I shook my head and turned my attention back to Gideon and Ina Garten’s salmon cakes.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A few days later, Jamie and I were standing outside the new Vogue offices at One World Trade. The lookbook must have met Ms. Wintour’s approval because Jordana let us know Anna didn’t feel the need to personally meet with us and was comfortable with the shoot moving forward as planned.

  An immaculately dressed assistant brought us into a gorgeous office with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the Hudson River. She offered us our choice of tea or coffee and told us Liza Lambert, one of the Senior Creative Directors, would be joining us momentarily. After she left the room, I looked down at my phone and read a text from Gemma, letting me know she and Victoria had landed at JFK about an hour ago and was on her way to the office.

  I looked over at Jamie. He was pale and uncharacteristically quiet.

  “You doing okay?” I asked.

  “I’ve been dreaming of this moment since I was about ten years old.”

  I put one hand over Jamie’s and used my other to skim through the latest issue of the magazine on the table. A few minutes later, Liza Lambert came through the door, trailed by a few assistants and other Vogue staffers. Liza was the magazine’s creative director and a well-known Manhattan socialite. My mother knew her a bit socially. They traveled in similar circles.

  Liza introduced herself and took a seat at the far end of the table. She opened up a large leather portfolio and passed down a packet of glossy photos.

  “Anna reviewed the lookbook and loved it,” Liza said as she put on an incredibly chic pair of bejeweled reading glasses that only someone in her position could pull off. “The wedding gown was obviously designed to invoke an Elizabethan feel, but we just did that spread with Perry Gillman and the cast of Elizabeth. Even though it was one of our most popular issues to date, Anna doesn’t want us to go down that road again.”

  Jamie cleared his throat. “Makes sense.”

  “We decided to shoot Victoria in the armor gallery of the Met. What you’re looking at are renderings and test shots of the space.”

  Jamie’s hands were trembling too much to look through the packet, so he slid it over to me, and I flipped through the pages for us both. As I was getting ready to turn to the last photo, Victoria and Gemma joined us in the conference room.

  “So sorry we’re a bit late,” Victoria said, taking a seat. “Between the wedding and now this story about my sister and Perry Gillman, the press has been out in droves. We flew private, and reporters were still waiting for us right outside of customs.”

  “Not at all, we were just getting started.” Liza leaned into the table. “Annabelle looked gorgeous at the Olivier Awards, by the way. She wore Dior, right? Perfection. How long have the two of them been dating?”

  “A while. It’s actually a really sweet story. He was camped out at the Victoria and Albert Museum doing research for Elizabeth, and Annabelle was there playing tourist on a rainy Saturday. They started talking and one thing led to another.”

  I sat upright. “When…when was that?”

  Jamie shot me a look. He knew exactly what I was getting at.

  “Oh, gosh, that had to have been at least a year and a half ago. I know. Isn’t it crazy they managed to keep it under wraps as long as they did?”

  A year and a half ago. Things between Perry and I had already begun going south, but technically, we were together when he started talking to Annabelle Ellicott.

  “Crazy,” I repeated.

  “How are they handling the spotlight?” Liza asked.

  “Annabelle’s built differently than me. She wanted to keep the relationship quiet until after my wedding, but Perry really wanted her at the Oliviers with him. It’s the only reason she agreed to go public.”

  He wanted Annabelle at the Oliviers with him? Last year when he was invited, he told me he was better off going on his own.

  Jamie leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Breathe, Gigi, breathe.”

  “No chance of getting Annabelle into your shoot, is there? Anna suggested it this morning, but I wasn’t sure how either of you would feel.”

  “No, she won’t want to be a part of it. As you know, not her thing.” Victoria answered.

  Liza gave a half-smile. “Couldn’t hurt to ask.”

  One of the Vogue staffers got up and handed Victoria and Gemma the same packet of photographs Jamie and I had in front of us.

  Victoria held up the first photo. “Who did you book for the shoot?”

  “Mario Testino,” Liza answered.

  A huge grin crept across Victoria’s face. “He’s the best.”

&nbs
p; “Absolutely. The concept of the shoot is the juxtaposition of the whimsical Spring Collection of G. Malone with the starkness of the Met’s armor gallery. Since the wedding collection is a completely different direction, we aren’t giving anything away, just playing off some themes.”

  “I love it,” Victoria said. “Gigi, Jamie…what do you think?”

  I was still reeling from Victoria’s earlier revelation. Thankfully, Jamie took the reins.

  “Sounds divine,” he answered.

  Liza made a few notes in her small leather notebook and then looked over at Jamie and I. “One of our feature’s writers will be doing the accompanying piece about your rise to fame. We’re thinking of calling the piece ‘Non-S-TOP Designers,’ a play on the fact you were both on Top Designer. Clever, right?” Liza flipped through a few pages of her notebook. “Jordana confirmed the interview for Friday. I think that’s everything. Any questions?”

  “Think now is the right time to ask to see the accessories closet?” Jamie muttered under his breath.

  “I need to get out of here,” I whispered back.

  Jamie nodded in understanding.

  “Wonderful. Victoria, we’ll need you back here tomorrow for some fittings and a hair and makeup test. Gigi and Jamie, thank you again for your time. The spread’s going to be fabulous,” Liza said, rising from her chair.

  I tried to make a dash for the door, but Gemma stopped me. She wanted to let me know she and Victoria were planning to come by the studio later in the day. They wanted to review the fabric swatches and the final sketch of the wedding gown. Liza pulled me aside after Gemma was out of earshot to tell me Anna absolutely loved the wedding gown and was going to make personal calls to Cartier and Harry Winston to see if they’d be willing to lend jewels for the dress’s cuffs and collar. I let her know it wasn’t necessary and we’d likely use semi-precious stones, but she insisted Anna wanted to be involved. I thanked her, grabbed Jamie by the hand, and headed directly to the elevator bank.

  Jamie pressed the elevator’s down button. “Don’t do this, Gigi,”