Greater Than Rubies, a Novella inspired by the Jewel Trilogy

by Hallee A. Bridgeman

  Robin was very interested. “Thank you. I cannot wait to see what you came up with. How long will it take?”

  “My team will arrive the first of April. The Boston hotel kitchen will accommodate us for the cake baking and decorating. Not having to transport everything to the site will make it much easier. We will do all of the flowers, gum paste, and sugar sculptures immediately and let them begin to set.”

  Eyes wide, she said, “It will take you three weeks to do the cake?”

  “Oh yes. I would prefer five, but I have other commitments, unfortunately.”

  Tony made a clicking sound with his tongue, “The Camp David thing in March.”

  Marcus nodded exactly once. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll be done with that in plenty of time.”

  Tony half grinned. “I’m not worried. You’ll make us proud.”

  And it struck Robin, in that heart beat, that “the Camp David thing” when translated into English meant, “That cake Marcus Williams must set before the President of these United States, the First Lady, and, no doubt, select dignitaries.” This man put a higher priority on her wedding cake than on preparing a dessert for the leader of the free world.

  Marcus looked at his watch. “I must return to the kitchen. I look forward to working with you, Miss Bartlett. Mr. Viscolli knows how to contact me if you have any specific requests or instructions.”

  Marcus left them alone in the office and Robin spun in a circle. “Okay, I have to ask.”

  Tony cut her off, “What’s with the shoes?”

  “What’s with the shoes?” She confirmed.

  “I should have told you about that in advance. I apologize.” Tony put his hand in the small of her back and his voice became almost solemn. “Some time ago, Marcus had a first cousin named Nick Williams. They were very close. Nick, fresh out of high school, joined the armed forces shortly after this great city fell under attack. Unfortunately, Nick was killed in action a few years later. There’s a much longer story about the style and choice of colors, but the bottom line is that Marcus wears those shoes to honor Nick and the men with whom he served.”

  Suddenly, the purple and orange sneakers no longer struck her as funny. “And the Camp David thing?”

  Tony shook his head, “Unrelated, but interesting that Marcus was handpicked, no? He probably doesn’t even prioritize it as very important. I sponsor a special youth camp each year in support of children and families of our fallen heroes. Marcus runs the kitchen for that camp every summer. I think that is where his heart really is, with those children.”

  “You are an amazing man, Tony Viscolli. I love you more with every waking moment.”

  “You are an amazing and beautiful woman, Robin Bartlett. And I can hardly wait to change your name.”

  Feeling a little overwhelmed, Robin decided to change the subject, “I cannot believe we will be married in two months.”

  Tony ran his hand down her arm. “Sixty-six days and a wake-up.”

  She put her hands on her cheeks. “Sixty-six days,” she said. “I don’t even know what to do next.”

  Tony pulled her into his arms. “You pick out your dress, select table settings and flowers, and keep counting down the days with me. I love you, cara, and our wedding will be beautiful, whatever the arrangements.”

  OBIN nervously fiddled with her ring while she waited for the Inside Boston magazine reporter to arrive. She sat in the conference room adjacent to the office of Tony’s public relations manager, Linda Cross. She still wore the clothes and makeup from the photo shoot that had taken place in a room just down the hall. She’d hoped Tony could be there for the photos, but the magazine had specifically requested only her.

  The door opened and Robin’s heart lurched, but Linda entered alone. She was short and stocky, with a thick waist and jet black hair. Thick glasses with square black frames dominated her face. “Don will be in momentarily,” she said. “He’s signing some papers for me right now.” She raised an eyebrow behind her glasses. “No worries, Miss Bartlett. I’ll be here the whole time.”

  “I’ve just never done this before.” She licked her lips.

  “A year from now, it will be old hat,” Linda assured. Robin wondered if she meant that to intimidate her or make her feel more at ease, because, honestly, she wasn’t feeling better in the wake of that remark.

  A tap at the door preceded the entrance of Don Roberts. He was younger than Robin, tall, boy-next-door good looking with straight brown hair and a fake tan. Nothing about him made her feel at ease about this interview.

  He shook her hand - again - then sat in the chair adjacent to her. He took a phone out of his pocket, pressed a series of buttons on it, then set it on the table in front of her. She could only assume he’d activated some sort of recording device. “Miss Bartlett, Robin, thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” she said around a suddenly too-dry mouth.

  “Let’s go ahead and cover the basics. Tell us how you met Tony.”

  This was the first person outside of church to address Tony as Tony and not Mr. Viscolli. It intrigued Robin. “He, ah, bought a restaurant where I worked.” She cleared her throat. “We met then.”

  “When was that?”

  “Last fall.”

  “And, to add a spice of romance to our story, how did he propose?”

  Robin smiled and relaxed, thinking back. “Christmas Eve, on the beach in the Florida Keys.”

  “That’s really nice,” Don said. He smiled. “Tony Viscolli is a powerful force in the business world, and not just in the Boston area. He has businesses all over the country and thousands of employees. What do you think drew him to you in particular?”

  Uncomfortable, Robin shrugged. “I really couldn’t tell you. You’d have to ask him.”

  “But we can probably guess what drew you to him, right?”

  Robin put her hands in her lap and laced her fingers, squeezing them tightly. “If you knew his heart, or anything about him personally, you’d not have to ask that question. He is amazing and generous and loving, and I feel so incredibly blessed.”

  “Is he?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Is he really all those things? Or simply uninformed?”

  Robin felt her eyebrows crease under the thick makeup from the photo shoot. “What?”

  “Does he know all there is to know about you?”

  Robin shifted her eyes to Linda, who frowned but did not speak. “I beg your pardon?”

  Don sat forward and tapped the top of the table with every question. He looked like an anaconda eyeing a mouse. “He knows you were a waitress moonlighting as a bartender. Does he know your father went to prison for drug smuggling and now faces double murder charges? Does he know your mother was an addict who was murdered in a drug deal? Does he know you, yourself, stabbed your foster parent in the back with a buck knife? Does he know you were a fugitive until you turned eighteen and your juvenile crimes were sealed? Does he know about the improprietary manner in which you had your former employer pull strings with city hall to clear your record so you could obtain custody of one of your sisters? How did you convince that retired sailor to help you pull those strings, Miss Bartlett?”

  Panic swirled in her brain, freezing her ability to form cohesive thoughts. “I don’t – what are you –?” Robin gasped and looked from Don to Linda. Her heart pounded and she felt sweat break out on her forehead.

  Linda pressed a button on the table next to her before standing. “Mr. Roberts? This interview is over. Our attorneys at the Anderson firm will be in contact with your editor in light of the NDA you signed and this particular line of questioning.”

  “You can’t hide her. Believe me if I know, the tabloids know, too. This is the kind of rags to riches story that everyone will be clamoring after. You need to let her – “

  As he spoke the door opened and two uniformed security officers marched into the room. They walked straight up to Don. “You need to come wit
h us, sir,” one of them said.

  “Now.” The other one said, picking up the reporter’s phone from the table.

  “Hey! You can’t have that!”

  “We’ll return your property when you’re safely outside the building, sir.” The guard stepped aside, placing his body between Roberts and the two women, and gestured with his hand. “Right this way, sir.”

  Roberts stood but quickly bent around the guard toward Robin. “You might as well figure out the best thing to do is embrace your story and tell it, or else others will do it with their own spin and you won’t be able to influence what they say.”

  The second guard grabbed his arm at the elbow and said, “You’ve already outstayed your welcome, sir. Time to go.”

  Roberts jerked himself free. “Don’t touch me. I’m leaving.”

  “Leave now,” the guard warned, “Without another word, or I will use force.” His finger stabbed in the direction of the door.

  Robin stared at the closed door long after it shut behind them. Linda sat where Don had been and touched her hand. “I’m so sorry. All of his credentials checked out.”

  With a shaking hand, Robin brushed the hair off of her forehead. “I’m not doing something like this again.”

  Linda nodded. “I understand.” She pressed some buttons on her phone. “Margaret? I need to talk to Mr. V. This isn’t good.”

  Without waiting for Linda to hang up the phone or Tony to come gallantly into the room, Robin gathered her bag and her coat and left. Linda tried to call her back, but she was stuck on hold with Tony’s office. Escape. Flee. Hide.

  The elevator arrived. Thankful to find it empty, she slipped inside and pressed the lobby button, then the door close button in rapid succession. As soon as it started moving, she went to the back corner of the elevator and pressed back against the wall. She used to be good at hiding. Hide way in the back of the closet. Protect her sisters. Make the monsters forget you’re there.

  But she couldn’t hide from her past, could she? What did she think she was doing, becoming Mrs. Antonio Viscolli? Inadequate didn’t begin to describe her. Her cell phone started ringing, but she turned it off as she stepped off of the elevator and into the lobby of the hotel. As she walked out of the doors, the valet lifted his hand in greeting, grabbed her keys, and rushed to get her car. With no choice but to wait, she slipped her coat on and shoved her hands into the pockets, lifting her shoulders against the wind. Before her car arrived, she felt Tony at her elbow.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not doing that again.”

  “It will never happen again.”

  Robin turned her head and looked him straight in the eye. “Oh, I know it won’t.”

  Her car pulled up in front of them. Tony touched her elbow. “Robin, please.”

  “It’s okay. I have to go now. But I’ll see you when you get back from California.” He looked so worried and a frown marred his forehead. Putting a hand on his cheek, loving him, needing him, she pressed her lips to his. “I love you. Have a safe trip.”

  Greater Than Rubies: CHAPTER 7

  AXINE stood back and declared, “That one.”

  Robin stood on the platform staring at multiple reflections of herself wearing dress number nineteen thousand three hundred and two. Or maybe just the fifth one. Perhaps it just felt like nineteen thousand or so after all the pictures and websites and magazines and now the trying on. Perhaps she was just remembering the approximate price tag. The five dresses combined probably cost more than she paid for Maxine’s first four semesters.

  Sarah walked around the platform, surveying the ivory dress, running her fingers over the intricate beadwork on the long train. “Oh yes,” she breathed. “This one.”

  Robin looked in the mirror directly in front of her. The sleeveless bodice almost formed a heart shape and cinched tight at her waist. The skirt flared out, split in the front to show an underskirt of the same material. The edges were scalloped, and tiny pearly beads were sewn into patterns and swirls all over the skirt and train. She felt amazing and beautiful in this dress.

  “I don’t know if I like the sleeveless,” she said, touching her shoulders.

  “You’ll like it when you see the pictures,” Maxine said. “Are you going to wear the necklace from Tony?”

  Robin snorted. “Which one?” Maxine raised an eyebrow. “Of course, silly. The Valentine necklace. How could I not?”

  “The way the bodice makes the heart shape will seriously make that necklace look like it was made for this dress.” Sarah lifted her own curls. “And up. You need your hair up.”

  Maxine nodded. “Absolutely. My hairdresser is already arranged. You’re meeting her next week to discuss hairstyle.”

  Hairstyle? Robin almost groaned. “Isn’t my hair going to be under a veil? What difference does it make how it’s up or styled under a veil?”

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Maxine hooked her arm over Sarah’s shoulders. “Tony is going to flip.”

  Sarah nodded. “Kind of like he did with that red dress.”

  “Yeah. I don’t mean to brag,” Maxine bragged, “but that red dress was the best idea I’ve had in a long time.”

  “Amen, sister.” Sarah pulled out her phone and checked an incoming text. “We have an appointment at the hotel tomorrow morning to look at flowers,” she said as she replied to the text. “Don’t forget.”

  Robin pulled her hair up and looked at the reflection from every angle. “How could I forget? I don’t even remember what my office looks like anymore. All I know is this wedding.”

  “Poor, poor, Robin. Don’t worry. In two months it will be over and we can quit hearing you gripe about the hardship of it.” Maxine waved the sales clerk over and her tone grew a bit less sarcastic and a bit more scolding. “You’re planning a wedding so you can marry a hard working and Godly man who has the means to fly you to New York City in his private jet for a Valentine’s Day dinner. Most women would kill or die for that. You need to lighten up and stop being such a wet blanket. Let us enjoy it, at least.”

  Robin felt contrite. She thought about what being wife to that man meant and her mind went back to the horrible interview. She put a hand to her forehead as a headache suddenly sprang up and assaulted the area behind her eyes. She heard Maxine speak to the store clerk. “We have a winner. It’s going to need some minor alterations.”

  “Excellent,” the tailor said. “I’ll tell you in confidence, of the five you selected, this one was my very favorite. I’ll just get my tape and some pins.”

  S they walked into Cassandra’s office in the administrative area of the Viscolli Hotel, Stephanie said, “I took your idea for red roses. I think you’ll be pleased.”

  Cassandra met them at the door. “Ladies, if you’ll follow me, please. I have a room with the same carpet and wall colors as the Grand Ballroom where I’ve set three different tables. You can choose the table settings and flowers, mix and match, whatever you want to do.”

  Robin quickly chose the ivory colored gold rimmed china for the place settings. She and Maxine and Sarah moved flowers around and finally settled on an arrangement of ivory roses in the shape of a ball that sat in a tall stand. Cream colored table clothes with gold accent covers would look very elegant in the grand ballroom.

  The bridal table would have an arrangement of red and ivory roses that would run the entire length of the long table.

  “Your bouquet,” Stephanie said, “will be red and white roses, similar to the bridal table.”

  “Are we overdoing the red?” Robin asked.

  “Oh no. The room is huge with vaulted ceilings. I think the red will just compliment the gold and cream nicely,” Cassandra said.

  Stephanie opened a leather portfolio and pulled out a card stock. “Here is the invitation sample. I have a calligrapher coming tomorrow to start working on addressing the envelopes.”

  Robin took the invitation. On heavy off-white colored paper lined with gold ribbon were
the words:

  Miss Robin Bartlett

  And

  Mister Antonio Viscolli

  request the honor of your presence

  as they come together before family and friends

  in the sight of God

  to be joined together in Holy matrimony

  Saturday, April 21st

  At

  four o’clock in the afternoon

  Boston Central Bible Church

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Reception immediately to follow at the Viscolli Hotel, Boston

  “So they are no longer two, but one.

  Therefore, what God has joined together, let man not separate.” Matthew 19:6

  “These are absolutely beautiful,” Robin said, running a finger over the gold ribbon. “I can’t believe how nicely they turned out.”

  “I agree. They are lovely. They’ll go out the first of March,” Stephanie said.

  “How many names did Tony whittle his list down to?” Maxine asked.

  Cassandra laughed. “Eight hundred. But –” she said, holding up a hand to forestall Robin’s protest, “not everyone will RSVP.”

  “Maybe not, but we have an open invite going to the church, too,” Robin said.

  “Oh, right,” Cassandra said. “I’d forgotten that part.” She made a notation in her book. “Well, if we have to, we’ll open the doors and set up the tents. But, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

  Stephanie gestured to another table. “Here are some favor options I’ve worked on with Cassandra.” On a tray lay strawberries dipped in white and dark chocolate that had been decorated to look like wedding dresses and tuxedos, handmade chocolates, and some wedding themed cookies. “My personal favorite is the strawberries.”

  “What are favors?” Robin asked.

  Sarah said, “They’re gifts you give the guests. It’s just something fun.” She pointed to the tray. ‘Those strawberries are amazing.”

  Maxine looked over Sarah’s shoulder. “They are. I’d go with the strawberries.”