The Reinvention of Mimi Finnegan (The Mimi Chronicles Book 1)

by Whitney Dineen

  I stand and stare at them as though I’m watching a movie and not real life. Did everything actually just work out here? Who wrote this? Jude, Hermione, are you back? I don’t know what to do, so I simply join the crowd and clap and clap and clap until my hands feel like they’re going to fall off.

  As Beatrice walks off the stage, she stops in front of me and takes my hand, “I’m so sorry, Mimi. I never meant to come between the two of you. Be good to him.” And then she walks away. How did she know about us? Neither one of us told her. Then I watch as she walks back to her table where Kevin is waiting for her with open arms. She steps into them at the same time he catches my eye and gives me a thumbs up. Well I’ll be. This is why Kevin wanted to be in New York to support Beatrice. I’m feeling about a million emotions run through me right now but the predominant one is love. Love for Kevin, love for Elliot and even love for Beatrice. It took amazing courage to do what she just did and I realize she is a woman that I would be honored to have as a friend.

  Elliot walks off the stage and right into my arms. I hug him fiercely and then come to my senses, “Elliot, people are taking pictures. We have to stop.”

  He declares, “Like hell!” Then he drops down on one knee and asks, “Mimi Finnegan, will you marry me?”

  I simply nod my head and start to cry again and answer, “Of course I will.”

  Then Elliot stands up and whispers in my ear, “We better hurry before everyone finds out about the baby.”

  I look up at him in shock and ask, “How did you know about the baby?”

  He smiles, “Hmmm, let me think, throwing up, ravenously hungry, extremely emotional, all the signs are there.” Elliot leans down and kisses me with a passion that is tinged with something new. It’s laced with promise and hope for our future together.

  When we finally break apart I can still hear the thunderous applause from the audience and I wonder what we’re missing. But then I look up and discover that they are all clapping for me and Elliot. That’s when I know that Stan and Ollie have finally been sent packing because I have my happy ending.

  Chapter 42

  Renée and Laurent insist we use their back yard for our reception. With the super human efforts of the Finnegan family, we have planned our wedding in a record two months and are blessed with a beautiful day that only mid-October can guarantee. Last night at the rehearsal dinner, Kevin and Muffy announced their engagement and Ginger and Jonathan shared the news that they are pregnant with triplets. Elliot and I took the opportunity to tell the family we were going to split our time between Pipsy and New York City. After the wedding we are going to go house hunting in both places and find new homes for ourselves. All in all life couldn’t be more wonderful.

  The wedding ceremony itself is emotional and joyful and full of wonderful moments like when Camille dropped rose petals down the aisle and then turned around to pick them up again. Laurent tried to tell her to leave them but she screamed out at the top of her two-year-old lungs, “But Mommy said I have to pick up my messes!” And then Kevin couldn’t find the rings when the priest asked for them. He eventually remembered that he put them in his sock for safe keeping. When he bent over to retrieve them the congregation started to applaud.

  My bridesmaids are of course my sisters and Marge. I think Marge was a little surprised that I asked her, but delighted all the same. She has vowed to get me through my pregnancy all the while keeping me within the thirty pound weight gain that I’m allowed.

  Kevin is our best man and Jonathan, Richard and one of Elliot’s friends from England round out their numbers. At least fifty of Elliot’s friends and family make the trip from England to be with us on our day. Even Beatrice has come and she’s not alone. When she got home, she discovered that her washing machine had been leaking the whole time she was away. Her hardwood floors were in desperate shape and the man that the insurance company sent out to appraise the damage also happened to be her grand passion. By all signs they are madly in love.

  Richard didn’t bring a date as he assures me that he is holding me to our bargain that I will be in charge of finding my replacement in his affections. I already have a few candidates in mind and conveniently all three ladies are here at the wedding. I will be introducing them to my friend at the reception and then we wait to see if one of them is the one. Of course Richard and Elliot are both on their best behavior today but there’s an underlying tension between them that alerts me to the fact they should still not be left alone.

  Edith Bunker continues to plague my life and as I am about to gain twenty to thirty pounds instead of losing ten, I imagine that she will be around for a good while longer. The good news is that she finally gave up on her love for Richard and has dedicated herself totally to Elliot.

  I’ve got to get to the reception now, but don’t worry; I’ll let you know how it turns out with Richard, Fiona, Bethanne, and Ellie. My money is on one of them but I don’t want to say who in case I’m wrong.

  About the Author

  While attending the University of Illinois, in Chicago, Whitney Dineen, began a career as a plus-size model. After modeling in New York City, she and her husband, Jimmy, moved to Los Angeles. In addition to modeling, Whitney spent the California years supplying some of Hollywood's biggest stars with her delicious cookies and candies. Whitney and her husband currently live in the beautiful Pacific Northwest where they spend their time raising their daughters, free-range chickens and organic vegetables.

  Whitney loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her via her website WhitneyDineen.com. If you’ve enjoyed The Reinvention of Mimi Finnegan, check out Whitney’s award-winning romantic comedy, She Sins at Midnight. Please take a moment to leave a review and share your thoughts with others. Many thanks!

  Mimi Plus Two

  Chapter 1

  “A mucus plug?” I ask in horror. “What in God’s name is that?”

  My sister, Ginger, simply smiles and explains, “It’s a necessity in pregnancy. It blocks any foreign matter from entering the cervix and introducing troublesome bacteria. It’s really a wonderful thing.”

  I’m not buying it. “Pregnancy is way more disgusting than I anticipated. I mean seriously, it’s like there’s all this top secret information that doesn’t get shared until it’s too late.”

  My beautiful and brainy sister, only a year older than me, is also in the family way, with triplets no less. She and her husband, a.k.a. my boss, Jonathan Becker, tried in vitro fertilization after months of not being able to conceive. Three humans are currently forming inside her uterus. I’m only harboring one. But you’d think it was fourteen, such is the graceful way I’ve taken to breeding.

  Ginger takes a sip of her “Mommyhood Tea,” which near as I can figure contains every Chinese herb containing a dash of yin, a skosh of yang and a nice dollop of tranquilizer. Ginger is positively glowing, not to mention peaceful. She looks like she’s gestating the next Dalai Lama and his equally Buddha-like siblings. We’re a week apart in the pregnancy game and both at the end of our first trimester. Ginger’s first foray into childbearing has been ideal. She has not been plagued with any of the horrors I have. “Your eyes look a lot better, Meems. How’s the vomiting?”

  The eyes, of which she speaks, are blood red and look like I’ve poured blistering hot sand directly into them. My doctor likened them to the living dead. The nausea has been so bad and I heave with such wild abandon, I’ve been breaking blood vessels at an alarming rate. I’ve taken to wearing sunglasses whenever I leave the house so people don’t suspect a deadly illness or fear that I vant to suck their blood. “Getting a bit better now that I’m taking Reglan for it. I just wish Dr. Fermin prescribed it sooner. Hopefully, they’ll have a chance to revert to normal before the wedding.”

  The wedding would be mine, to the dashing and distinguished, Elliot Fielding. Elliot and I have only known each other for a few months but he snagged my heart the minute I saw him. Okay, maybe not the minute, but well within the first two weeks, poss
ibly three. The PR company I work for signed on to launch Elliot’s next book and in the midst of the proceedings, one thing led to another. We will be married in ten days and I’m more excited than I have ever been about anything. I’m not just marrying him because I’m in the “family way” either. I’m head over heels in love with the guy.

  The only problem is that I haven’t been feeling well enough to help plan the event. I know we will be saying our vows at Our Lady of Peace Catholic Church in Pipsy, the same parish where my parents were married. The reception is going to be held in my sister Renée’s backyard in Hilldale. Her grounds put the Haiku Mill in Maui to shame, so I’ve really hit the jackpot there. I have no idea what the bridesmaid dresses look like because truly, I could give a crap. As an ex-model and famous designer, I’ve left that particular detail up to Renée. My only request is they aren’t brown, yellow or gray. Other than that, I’d rather sleep or vomit than have to be responsible for their wedding attire. Renée is also designing my dress and I have given her carte blanche.

  My mother, Maureen O’Callaghan Finnegan, is choosing the flowers. She has an eye for floral arrangements and I trust her implicitly. She nearly shattered my eardrums when I handed the job over to her, “Meems, NO! This is the best job you could give me!! Do you have any favorites that you want me to include?” I was going to tell her that I would love lily of the valley in my bouquet but the very thought of their delicious aroma upset my stomach to the point I needed to cut the conversation short to puke.

  The one task I was really, really looking forward to participating in was choosing the menu for the reception. The first two times we met with the caterer I became so ill we had to leave. Therefore, I reluctantly let Elliot and his English palate loose on them. I’m hoping he doesn’t order fish and chips and warm beer. Not that it will matter much to me. If I don’t get the retches under control by then, I don’t suppose I’ll be eating anything.

  I am and always have been a wearer of double digits. All three of my sisters hover around the size 6-8 mark. I have not been smaller than a size 12 since I turned thirty, five years ago. I am now a size 10 but only because I can’t seem to keep any food down. It’s the worst diet ever. In fact, I gave up on Weight Watchers on the advice of my doctor. “Mimi,” she instructed, “you can gain 30-40 pounds and be well within the medical bounds for a healthy pregnancy. No dieting for this baby.”

  Another upside of losing weight is that my bunion has nearly vanished. Edith Bunker, so named because she has the same grating voice as Archie’s wife, nagged me into successfully losing fifteen pounds before getting pregnant. Yes, I know a talking bunion doesn’t make me sound very sane, but you have secrets too, so don’t judge.

  “Meems, are you listening to me?” Ginger inquires. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

  That’s another thing. I’m exhausted all the time. I take at least two naps a day and sleep a good ten hours at night. “Aren’t you even a little pooped?” I ask. “You know most women are dog-tired during the first trimester.”

  Ginger sighs, “I guess I have been a bit more sleepy than normal but I’m so excited to get the nursery ready and read everything I can about triplets, I really don’t want to sleep. I just want to be prepared.

  “Ginger, I may know squat about pregnancy but I do know there won’t be much sleeping going on after those kids of yours hit the planet. You should try to store up.”

  My sister laughs, “I know, I know. Jonathan says the same thing, but after all those months of trying to get pregnant and then signing up with adoption agencies, I just want to be awake and enjoy every moment.” Unlike me, I just want to go lights out and regain consciousness after the baby is born and possibly out of diapers.

  “I’m just going to go upstairs and take a nap here if you don’t mind. I don’t think I can make it home safely.” Ginger assures me it’s fine so I take my shoes off and don’t even try to get up the stairs. I just lie down on the couch and let the sandman take me.

  I fall asleep so hard and fast that within seconds I dream I’m floating in the clouds, all snug and safe holding my baby in my arms. My hair looks fabulous, not the half red, half bacon grease I’m currently sporting. My skin is glowing and the bundle in my arms coos away. Somewhere, cloud adjacent, I hear Jonathan call out Ginger’s name. In my vision, he hugs her for a long moment before saying, “Oh honey, I’m so sorry. Try not to worry.” Then he asks, “Did you tell Mimi?”

  Ginger replies, “How could I? She’s having such a hard time with her own pregnancy. I don’t want her to worry about mine.”

  Chapter 2

  “Mimi, don’t worry, they’ll love you,” assures my charming husband-to-be, as he announces the early arrival of his parents. “They’re just like any other parents.”

  I interrupt, “Perhaps, if those other parents happen to be an earl and countess. God, Elliot, how could you not have told me this before now?”

  He soothes, “Don’t think of them like that. They’re just my mother and father and they will adore you as much as I do.”

  Here’s the thing. I know for a fact I would have loved Elliot and wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, regardless of his pedigree. I just haven’t had much of a chance to come to terms with it. In my head, I was slated to fall in love with a regular sort of guy, maybe a high school football coach or plumber. At any rate, I envisioned him being locally born and raised. We would have pizza on Friday and meatloaf on Wednesday and watch sports at my parents’ house on Sunday. Now, I’m not only marrying an internationally bestselling author but the future Earl of Houndstoothbury on the Thames. That’s not really his title. I’ve just forgotten what it is. Note to self, have Elliot write down his father’s title so I don’t come off like a completely ignorant American.

  “They will be here late tomorrow night and will meet us for brunch on Sunday. So you have plenty of time to calm down.” He looks so certain of himself.

  “Oh my God, Elliot, my hair! My appointment isn’t until Tuesday! I have to call Francoise and see if he can fit me in today.” When I met Elliot, my hair color was not blonde and not brunette as much as baby poop in color. In my quest to catch his eye, my flamboyant hair stylist dyed it this fabulous shade of red. And by fabulous, I mean he unleashed the true me. But I’m not supposed to use dye on it for the first trimester. Something to do with my crazed hormone levels and the possibility the color won’t take or will take incorrectly. But this is a crisis. I will risk pink roots so that the Earl and Countess of Upper Snob Hillery won’t be horrified by the first sight of their future daughter-in-law.

  Elliot kisses the top of my head and rubs my shoulders, “Forget about my parents for a moment and tell me how the little mother is doing.”

  Who says things like “little mother?” This is something else that takes some getting used to. While Elliot and I both ostensibly speak English, his is the queen’s variety and mine is more closely related to a scullery maid. I smile and answer, “If by little mother, you mean the starving incubator of your seed, then I’m starving! I miss the cravings and all you can eat food fests. This nausea is for the birds.”

  “Dr. Fermin assures us it won’t be for much longer. Once you feel like eating again, I’ll take you out for every meal and fill you up with whatever your heart desires. How does that sound?”

  “Like heaven. I want to hit Burger City first and have a double cheeseburger with fries and root beer and …. Hold that thought, I need to throw up.” Running to the toilet, I’m overcome with sympathy for anorexics. All this hurling is making my throat raw and irritated. Why in the world would anyone choose to do this on purpose?

  Sitting on the floor with my head resting against the porcelain god, I start to cry. I am so sick and so happy and so overwhelmed and so delighted at the same time that the only escape for all these pent up emotions is tears. Gut wrenching sobs pour out of me as Elliot runs to my side, “Mimi, what happened? Are you are okay?”

  With snot running down my nose
and vomit on my shirt, I answer, “I’m just so happy. Thank you, Elliot, thank you for making my life perfect.”

  The look of shock and horror on his face make it clear he doesn’t know if I’m being sarcastic or not. And while I am one hundred percent sincere in my gratitude, I can see where he might not be.

  Elliot helps me into bed and covers me up, “Why don’t I call Francoise for you while you have a little lie down? I’ll wake you once you have an appointment time.”

  My eyes are closed and I’m fast asleep by the time he leaves the room. I dream about house hunting with my future husband. So far, we’ve put it off because we’ve been so busy getting ready for the wedding. Rather, everyone else has been so busy getting ready for it. I’ve been too sick and Elliot is hard at work on his next thriller, Double Jeopardy. Our original plan was to buy a house in Pipsy and an apartment in New York City. That way we could be near family and I could continue working for Parliament in Manhattan. But soon after discovering I was pregnant, it became clear I didn’t have the necessary fortitude to grow life and hold down a job. For the first time in my adult life money isn’t an issue, so with Elliot’s persuasion, I agreed to leave my job until after the baby is born.