Three and a Half Weeks

by Lulu Astor

  “Ella, what’s wrong?”

  She glances up at him. Kohl is smeared all around her eyes, and runs down her cheeks in tiny black rivers. From his vantage point, she looks like a frightened raccoon.

  “Ella?” he repeats.

  Her response is a high-pitched wail, “I have nothing to wear!”

  His eyes circuit the room. All around her are discarded outfits that she pulled from the closet and then tossed. He steps over those garments that made it to the floor and peeks in her closet. It is lined wall to wall with clothes, her own and those he purchased to augment her wardrobe with clothes that pleased him.

  “Ella, I think you have something to wear. What is the real issue here?”

  “I have nothing appropriate to wear.”

  “What does that mean? You have so many different clothes; how can it be that there’s nothing appropriate?”

  She shrugs her shoulders, tears still trickling down her face. “There just isn’t.”

  “Ella, would you like me to choose an outfit for you?”

  “No. I think you may have to go without me, Ian. Just this once; I promise I’ll go next time.” She presses her hands together in supplication.

  “Do you not think it a little strange for me to show up alone to announce my engagement?”

  Sniffling, she wipes some of the running mascara from under her eyes. “It is what it is.”

  “No,” he sits beside her on the bed and pulls her close to him, “it’s not. What’s the real problem? Are you nervous about meeting my parents?”

  Dissolving into tears again, she nods her head against his chest. “Oh, Ella, my parents will love you; I guarantee it. What’s not to love?”

  “I wrote a filthy sex book, Ian. Did you forget that minor detail?”

  “It’s not filthy; it’s risqué, ribald maybe. Moreover, I’m fairly certain that genre of novel is not on my parents’ reading list so I think we’ll be safe on that front. My father spends most of his time reading science journals and my mother art books when she’s not elbow deep in oils. It’s all good, Ella. Really.”

  “What about your siblings?”

  “My brothers live out of state so there’s just Zoe, my sister. She will absolutely adore you, baby.”

  He didn’t dare tell her that Zoe had read her novel. She’d find out, though, very soon, because Zoe has the biggest mouth this side of the Mississippi. “Come on: let’s go. Throw on a simple dress or maybe pants, if you prefer, and don’t give it another thought. Just don’t wear fuck-me stilettos and we’ll be fine.”

  She shoots him a dirty look. “Give me a little credit, Ian, for God’s sake. Okay, fine. If you’re going to force me into this den of lions, then…”

  Rolling his eyes, he gets up muttering about dens of lions, and gives her a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Did you know you sneeze like a kitten?”

  “Say what?”

  His eyes brim with amusement. “Say what? Are you from the ‘hood? Last night, you began to sneeze in your sleep and your sneezes were so small and soft, it sounded like a kitten sneezing, not a human. I almost starting scouring around for a tiny cat.”

  She gets up and starts pushing him toward the door. “Shoo. I have to get dressed. Now I’m not going to be just inappropriately dressed, but late, too.”

  He rolls his eyes again and leaves the room.

  Ten minutes later, Ella emerges, her make-up repaired, no evidence of her meltdown. Wearing navy tights, a blue and green tartan kilt-style skirt held in place with a giant brass safety pin, a white cotton button-down shirt with three-quarter sleeves, knee-high black boots, and her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, she is ready to go.

  Ian’s eyes light up when he sees her. “I love the way you look, Ella, and so will my parents.” He holds out his hand. “Let’s go, baby.”

  When they turn into the circular drive of the estate, Ian glances over to the passenger seat: Ella looks pale. “Butterflies?” he asks, smiling reassuringly.

  “A whole swarm.”

  He pats her hand. “Do not worry. I promise all will be fine.”

  Faith is at the door to greet them. Ian’s mother is fairly tall, at 5’9” or thereabouts. She has auburn hair cut chin length and is very slender. Her eyes reflect a warm, fun personality. “Finally I get to meet Ella!” She rushes to them and pulls Ella into an effusive hug. “Ella, welcome to our home! I’m so thrilled… we’re all so thrilled to meet you. We’ve heard so much about you, all great things, naturally.”

  “Thank you… and likewise.” Ella smiles brightly as Faith hugs her son, holding his face affectionately with both of her hands. “You look very happy, my beautiful boy.”

  He smiles. “I am, Mom. Truly.”

  Eyes lingering on his, Faith nods slowly. “Yes, you are. Come on in, you two.”

  Trevor and Zoe sit in a small parlor just past the entrance hall. Ian’s father rises to greet them. He’s tall, about the same height as his youngest son, and his dark hair is liberally peppered with silvery gray. He casts friendly yet discerning eyes at the girl on his son’s arm.

  “Ella, I presume?”

  “Yes, not Dr. Livingstone.”

  He smiles at her joke and extends his hand. “Charmed to meet you. Ian has told us much about you.”

  Ella takes his hand in her icy one, trying and failing to quickly warm it before. “So I hear,” she says with a beaming smile. “Hello, Mr. Blackmon. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  Ian can tell both of his parents seem genuinely glad to meet his Ella. So far, so good. Now only Zoe is left.

  Ian remembered Zoe’s reaction to his news when they met for lunch the day before. She’d already been seated at a center table when he arrived or he would never have been given accorded a public table. As soon as he greeted her, he’d spilled the beans. Her reaction was not terribly surprising, considering that his sister does everything in a big way.

  “You’re marrying the author of a dirty book?” Zoe practically screamed the question.

  Ian rolled his eyes. “You know, I was concerned that Ella’s book sales in this neighborhood weren’t adequate; thanks for seeing to that for me, Zoe.”

  She had the good grace to instantly flush, looking around at all the other diners who were now gaping at them. “I’m sorry, Ian, but you took me by surprise. For God’s sake, when did this all happen?”

  “This all being…?”

  “Meeting, dating, asking to marry… you know, that kind of trivial detail.”

  “I believe I told you that I knew the author way back when you were drooling over the novel. We became reacquainted a while ago, and it escalated from there. Wait until you meet her: you’ll love Ella and so will the rest of our family.”

  “If you do, then I’m sure we all will.” She took a sip of her Chardonnay. “When will that meeting happen?”

  “This weekend. We’re announcing our engagement and imminent wedding.”

  Eyes narrowed. “How imminent?”

  “June.”

  “What? That gives us no time to prepare. We have to book a venue, a band, a wedding planner…”

  “We? Actually we don’t. Ella and I would like to have the ceremony and reception at Mom and Dad’s estate. In June the weather will be nice and we’ll pitch a big tent in case of rain. I’ve already spoken with a few wedding planners and they all promise to squeeze us in—great publicity for them since the press release will make it to all the right places. The only thing you have to worry about is your dress.”

  “Oh, you always take every last drop of fun out of everything, Ian.” She stuck out her tongue.

  “Promise me you won’t do or say anything to embarrass Ella. Especially about her book.”

  Sullen-faced, she nodded and raised her right hand, as if swearing an oath. “Promise.”

  Now it was up to her to keep her word. She gracefully unfolds her long body from the chenille-upholstered chair she is curled up in, swinging her shoulder-length, chestnut hair behind her.
“Ella! I’m so excited to meet you. I’m Ian’s sister, Zoe. Welcome to our home.”

  At that moment, the doorbell chimes.

  “Oh, Ian,” Faith interjects, “I hope you and Ella don’t mind but I’ve invited a few people to lunch.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, Jeff Benson—he and Dad have been working together on a new high-blood-pressure medication—and Jeff’s wife, Diana. I also asked Miriam James and her husband Antonio. Miriam curated my last exhibit at the Hackley Gallery. Zoe also invited a couple of her girlfriends, Sarah Nesmith and Kaylie Ayres. You probably remember them, Ian?”

  Ian’s eyes narrow when he hears the guest list. If he had been told earlier, it would have been helpful but hearing it now for the first time, his knee-jerk reaction gives him away.

  He hasn’t seen Kaylie in eons but they used to sneak away together whenever Zoe wasn’t around. Kaylie was Ian’s first and vice versa, and she wasn’t happy when he finally cut the cord, leaving her for Natasha Yenin.

  But the real shocker is Diana Benson. He’d met her several years ago at one of those infernal fundraisers that he’d been impelled to attend while he built his reputation as a philanthropist, and he had no idea of the connection she had to his father, nor did he know she was married. He’d just pegged her as a hungry cougar… and he was only too happy to accommodate her. It was during the time Natasha was fucking him over and he’d yet to make the decision of swearing off relationships, confining himself to Dom/sub situations.

  He had considered the affair to be one that was purely physical but she had not been of the same mindset. She began to make demands on him and he didn’t care for the tenor of the relationship. He tried to walk away numerous times but she kept pulling him back. Finally, he made a clean break of it… only to discover her one night, ensconced at his parents’ dinner table, with her husband—her husband whom he’d known since he was a child, being his father’s friend and colleague since the elder Mr. Blackmon earned his medical degree.

  Now he’s in an unenviable position: introducing his wife-to-be to his first girlfriend and to his former mistress of a sort.

  Kaylie is the first hurdle. Following on the tails of the butler who answers the door, the young blond woman comes strolling into the house as if she owns it. “Zoe!” she exclaims as Ian’s sister rushes over to greet her friend. “I’m so glad to see you. It’s been too long!”

  Zoe smiles and embraces her high school friend. “Definitely too long.” The two women go back to sophomore year of high school. “How are you, Kaylie? I’m glad you’re back from Denver.”

  “Oh, so am I. Denver is a total yawn.” Her bright green eyes scan the room, settling on Ian. She smiles broadly and gives a little wave. “Hey there, big bro. I’ve actually been reading the WSJ to check for updates on you. How are you, Ian?”

  He smiles politely but is saved from further comment as the other guests arrive. When the introductions are completed, Ian decides that now is the time to make his announcement. While everyone is milling about, he asks for their attention and the room goes quiet. Grasping Ella’s hand, he looks at his parents. “Ella and I are planning to marry in June and we thought it was time to let everyone know. The date we selected is the twelfth so keep it open, please. Mom? We’d like to hold the wedding here on the estate, if that’s okay?”

  Faith claps her hands together. “I would be thrilled to have the wedding here, Ian and Ella! Of course. June is not far away: we should start planning immediately.”

  Nodding Ian smiles as his family and friends offer their congratulations.

  It is fairly apparent to everyone in the room what Kaylie thinks about Ian’s news since her startled reaction is conspicuous: her eyes widen, her mouth drops open, and her face darkens to a vibrant shade of crimson, which on her fair skin is notable. Faith notices tension in the room and jumps in before things become even more awkward.

  “Why don’t we all move to the patio and Susie will serve drinks? It’s such a lovely afternoon.”

  “Great idea,” Trevor adds.

  Kaylie is still gaping at Ella but now there’s emotion shading her green eyes though it’s not clear exactly what kind.

  Once everyone is seated outside, Kaylie turns to Ella. “Ella, please tell me about yourself. What do you do?”

  “I’m trying to establish a career as an art historian. I’ve most recently worked with a documentary filmmaker but I’m toying with the idea of going into academia.”

  “How interesting.”

  Zoe pipes in “Ella is also a—”

  “Zoe,” Ian interrupts, “may I speak to you privately for a moment?”

  Confused, Zoe rises. “Yes, Ian. Excuse us for a moment please.”

  Ian gets up out of his chair and propels his sister into the house, leaving Ella to fend for herself in the den of lions. Shortly thereafter, Diana Benson makes her way over to Ella, as Ian and Zoe return to the terrace.

  Ella nods politely and says hello. Diana Benson is much more polished and therefore more discreet than Kaylie and easily hides her reaction to the unwelcome news of Ian’s engagement. Her smile seemingly genuine, she offers her congratulations. Only Ian can see the fireworks behind her social facade as she digests the new information. It’s in the way her back straightens, her eyes slightly narrow, and lines form around her mouth indicating tension.

  The conversation shifts to current events, Trevor’s new project, Faith’s news from the art world, and Kaylie’s new career in public relations. Zoe’s other friend, Sarah, having recently been married, returns the conversation to Ian’s engagement.

  “So, Ella, have you considered wedding planners yet?”

  Sensing an ally in Sarah, Ella smiles with relief. “Yes, we just met with one yesterday. Lissette Simmons? She seems competent.”

  “Oh my God, snagging Lissette is like hitting the lottery. How did you manage that one? She’s booked for years in advance.”

  Surprised, Ella turns to Ian. “How did you swing that, Ian?”

  “My assistant arranged the meeting for me. I’m sure Lissette appreciates the fact that planning our wedding is a coup for her in terms of publicity. The advertising capital alone will be worth it, since mention of our wedding and the attendant details will make all of the social media.”

  Noticing that Kaylie looks about ready to spit bullets, Faith moves the party inside for lunch, sorely regretting her guest list.

  Kaylie manages to slide in next to Ian, with Ella on his other side. Diana Benson sits directly across from him. The late thirtyish woman is wearing a very tight white sleeveless shift with a bright green geometric design. Her white sandals sport four-inch heels and show off her tanned legs and manicured toenails.

  Thus caged by former love interests, uncomfortable is the only adjective that keeps popping into Ian’s head but his top priority is keeping Ella from feeling the slings and arrows directed her way from both spurned women. It’s not an enviable task but he’s prepared to take on anything for Ella.

  The kitchen staff had just served the salad course when Kaylie launches her attack. “So, tell me Ella, how did you and our Ian meet?”

  Ella must sense the enmity in Kaylie for Ian could see her face slide into the mask that she uses for people she doesn’t particularly like. Her posture becomes rigid and her smile slight and forced. She answers politely. “Ian came into the boutique where I worked part-time while still attending undergraduate school. He was shopping for a birthday gift for his favorite sister,” she smiles genuinely at Zoe.

  Zoe rolls her eyes and grins. “I’m his only sister, Ella. So, to clarify, I’m responsible for bringing you two together?”

  Kaylie is not to be deterred. “So when Ian met you, you were a salesgirl? How utterly Cinderella-ish.”

  Ella responds with the most meager of smiles and quickly starts up a conversation with Sarah, who is seated on her other side. Sarah asks her which boutique and when Ella tells her, she becomes excited.

  “Oh, that’s
one of my favorite shops. You know, I actually remember you! You were always so nice and helpful. It’s so great that you met your future husband while working at Archipelago. You know, all of Zoe’s girlfriends were after Ian when we were growing up, but none of us were able to snag him.”

  Snickering, Kaylie says, “Speak for yourself, Sarah, dear. I did just fine with him, didn’t I,” she looks at Ian and winks.

  Ian clutches Ella’s hand and turns to the other end of the table where his father is seated. “I hear your patent was finally approved, Dad. Do you think it will be clear sailing from here on in?”

  Trevor laughs, joined by Jeff Benson. “It never is,” Jeff adds, “just one hurdle after another.”

  “Well, securing the patent must be more than half the battle, correct?”

  “Half… maybe.”

  Miriam begins telling them about the financial and critical success of Faith’s recent exhibit and after Faith whispers something to the head waitperson, the courses are served swiftly, one after the other. On the surface, things seem to settle down.

  After the meal concludes, Ella finds herself chatting about wedding details with Faith when Ian steps away with his father for a couple of minutes. Diana Benson chooses that moment to pounce, joining their conversation with a smile.

  “Ella, dear, what designer will you choose for your wedding dress?”

  Smiling in a friendly manner, Ella answers truthfully, “I haven’t given it any thought just yet. In fact, my best friend and I are going dress shopping for the first time next week.”

  “Oh? Will you be wearing white?”

  Ella blushes. “Yes, I think so. Ivory, perhaps, but we’ll be going traditional pretty much all the way.”

  “How nice. I’m sure it will be lovely. You might want to look at the dresses that J. Crew offers. They’re fantastic and the prices are good if you’re on a budget.”

  “Oh, but I’m not,” Ella replies airily, her intuition putting her on bitch alert, “and I plan to splurge on a dress. I have to spend my money on something, after all.”