“I think I got it,” Liam said. “Would you like more?”
As if I’d answer that one.
Is being a bridesmaid a privilege, practice, or punishment?
thirteen
The morning of the wedding I’d offered to go down to the ballroom to see how the transformation was going. The Ritz was opening all three adjoining ballrooms into one enormous room to accommodate the nearly five hundred guests, two dance floors, sitting area, and assorted other spaces that had my head ringing ka-ching.
Lisa’s wedding planner hurried over, one hand on the Bluetooth in his ear, the other clutching an iPad.
“Miss Tanner,” he greeted. He was wearing a smartly cut suit, a tie, and leather loafers. He looked more like a wedding guest than the wedding planner, but I guess that’s what you get when you pay fifty grand for planning. Except that he wasn’t a planner. Jeffrey preferred “wedding consultant,” and everyone acquiesced to his desire.
“Hello, Jeffrey. I can’t believe what you’re doing in here.” I was dumbstruck. At the far right end, the finishing touches were being put on the seventy tables. “This is amazing,” I said as I walked the length of the room to check things out.
“Since they both swim, we decided to go with a sophisticated sand theme.”
I didn’t have a clue what that meant. “Okay.” I rubbed my hand along the top of one of five hundred sixty chairs. The raw silk fabric added texture as well as repeated the latte and champagne colors Lisa had chosen. Then my eye caught the place setting. Every place had Reed & Barton flatware and Wedgewood chargers. The flatware was monogrammed. “They let you engrave rentals?” I asked Jeffrey.
He smiled. “These aren’t rentals. Except for the centerpieces, everything on the tables belongs to the Huntington-St. John family.”
Geez, other than Palm Beach functions, I’d never seen so much privately owned stuff in my life. “Who has this much flatware?” I asked as I straightened a knife.
“Back in the day, the family patriarch gave each of his six children service for one hundred. They pool their respective resources for large functions.”
“Oh. These are pretty,” I said of the plates. “The pale blue mixed with the beige stuff reminds me of the beach.” The centerpieces were glass vases with river stones in the bottom and also sprinkled around the outer base, around a half-dozen votives. In one corner of the room, a group of ten women were cutting and trimming pale tropical orchids, which I assumed would fill the glass vases.
Waterford crystal stood at attention as well. I guessed the Huntington-St. Johns also cornered the market on drinking vessels.
I turned and pointed. “What’s that?”
“In that corner”—Jeffrey gestured with his iPad-holding hand—“we’ll have a harpist. On the opposite side, a flutist. Center right will be the seventeen-piece swing band with clamshell, and we’re building a dance floor in the center area. Crystals will hang from the chandeliers.”
“They’re replacing the chandeliers?” I asked, truly stunned by the extravagance.
“Of course. The drop crystals will look better with the lighting scheme.”
“Which is?”
He held out his iPad to show me a color mock-up, complete with 360 degree views of the room. Some of the areas were brightly lit, while others had soft, subdued lighting. In the center of the dance floor, a custom flood would highlight a monogram of a D and an L. The sand and beach motif was repeated by using huge panels of white silk, on which different images would be projected during the night. The lives of David and Lisa on handmade Trinitrons.
“We’ll also be showing the video of the service,” Jeffrey said.
“Why?” I asked.
“The chapel holds only one hundred, so four hundred guests will have to watch via digital upstream while sipping champagne and sampling caviar from around the world. We’ll be moving in chairs for the wedding video and closing off the dining area until I call to let them know the bride and groom are on their way.”
“Very high tech.”
Jeffrey leaned in closer to me. “Truth be told, I would have preferred they marry at a venue that could handle all the invitees. It would have saved me a step.”
I touched his arm. “I’ll let Lisa know that everything is coming along perfectly. You’ve created an elegant ocean in the middle of Atlanta.”
“Thank you,” he said, and then reached into his breast pocket. “Here,” he said as he handed me his card.
“I’m from out of state,” I explained when I made no move to take the offering.
“I travel,” he said with a smile.
Out of politeness, I took the card. If I ever did marry Li—Oh God! Did that thought really creep into my brain? If I married anyone, I’d have Liv do the event.
I headed back upstairs, knowing it was about my time to be coiffed and polished by the team of stylists hired to make me—and everyone else—look fantastic.
Faster than I imagined, I was being spirited out the back of the hotel into the waiting Bentley limo. Other limos were lined up behind us, waiting to load the rest of the ladies in the bridal party.
“Lisa!” my mother exclaimed as she instantly grabbed for a hanky from her small purse. “You look like royalty.”
“Thank you,” Lisa said nervously. It was the first time I could remember ever hearing my little sister sound anything other than completely confident.
Lisa had selected a Vera Wang ivory tissue organza ballroom gown with zibeline trim, a front bow, and a back bustle. Well, Lisa probably hadn’t selected the gown herself. Too girly and too froufrou. Left to her own devices, she’d most likely have preferred to get married in white scrubs. My dress was a strapless satin ball gown in latte with a pickup and a champagne sash. The other bridesmaids had the same dress, though theirs were all champagne.
My mother had gone, predictably, with Chanel. Her silk gown was the exact color of my own, though it had cap sleeves and a bead-encrusted bodice. “Finley,” she acknowledged as she looked me up and down. “Do you have any bronzer?”
“No, why?”
“You’re just so washed out in that dress. Oh well, too late now. You should have gotten some sun. Something to put color on your skin.”
“And let’s not forget the potential for developing melanoma,” I muttered.
“I think she looks perfect,” Lisa insisted, some of her jitters calmed by mediating our mother and me.
I was sitting across from my sister, legs crossed so I could peek at my Jimmy Choos for the short trip. I mean, I was glad she was getting married, but that came a close second to my new shoes.
The small family chapel was a lovely stone building with pretty stained glass and beautifully milled woodwork framing the art.
I could hear the organist playing subdued music as we were sent into an anteroom. Jeffrey was there, as well as the videographer. Well, he was more than a videographer, and he wasn’t alone. It felt like being filmed for a Hollywood blockbuster. One guy held a big boom mike over the crowd, and another aimed a bright light wherever instructed by the guy with the gigantic camera. Oh, and there was a regular photographer clicking away, capturing my sister lifting her bouquet of specially flown-in orchids and magnolia leaves; another one of the two of us looking at each other. The special moment when Lisa pinned the orchid corsage to my mother’s dress. Which, as it turned out, was just for the purpose of the photograph. Jeffrey didn’t like the placement, so he repinned it a bit higher on her shoulder.
As if he was a master sergeant and we were his minions, Jeffrey inspected each of us, often telling a stylist to touch up some makeup or lacquer uncooperative hairs. I got away with a one-word critique. “Fantastic.” I glanced at my mother, making sure she’d heard the praise. She’d never back down, but I derived great pleasure just knowing she’d had to sit in silence as a pro complimented me.
For some reason I had butterflies in my stomach. It made no sense. This was my seventh—no, my eighth—time as a bridesmaid. True
, it was my first stint as maid of honor, but it wasn’t like that job came along with daunting duties. I think the butterflies had something to do with knowing Liam was in the audience. There was something freakishly odd about having a guy you were hot for watching you walk down the aisle.
“Get Liam off your brain,” I chastised softly.
“Pardon me?” my mother asked.
“I said Lisa’s dress has a pretty train.” It was true. The custom-made gown included a ten-foot train that had the same D and L monogram I’d seen on the dance floor.
Once we all passed Jeffrey’s inspection, we lined up and, via cordless microphone, Jeffrey cued the organist. Wagner’s Bridal Chorus, aka “Here Comes the Bride,” vibrated through the centuries-old church. At the last second, I was handed a bouquet of magnolia blossoms.
“Elbows bent, flowers at the waist, please!” Jeffrey instructed. “And go,” he told the first bridesmaid.
It took a while for my turn to come around. I was ready. Or at least I thought I was until I saw Liam in the back row. He didn’t just look at me. He stared with an intensity that made my blood boil. The sensation didn’t last long. Only until I saw the pretty brunette sitting pressed up against him.
He’d been the toast of the rehearsal dinner, and now he was probably arranging for a hookup while I was trapped in a sea of satin.
Once I had taken my place at the altar, my mother and sister appeared at the double doors, and the entire audience got to its feet. I half expected my mother to do that screwing-in-a-lightbulb, Queen of England wave at the audience. Even I had to admit that she looked radiant as she escorted a now-veiled Lisa.
On the other hand, Lisa looked as if she was struggling to walk in a straight line. Perhaps she should have spent more time practicing the fine art of walking in killer heels instead of running triathlons. Anyone can bike, run, and swim, but it takes talent to get the pitch and balance of a new pair of stilettos.
The tux-clad video guys and the photographer moved discreetly along the walls of the church, while Jeffrey stood in the back grinning broadly. He should be pleased with himself. The chapel was stunning. The lighting was subdued everywhere except in the small area occupied by David, Lisa, and the pastor. After I’d adjusted Lisa’s gown and taken her bouquet, I sorta zoned out. I was standing on a diagonal, so I could see Liam in my peripheral vision. If the brunette got any closer, she’d be in his lap. If he noticed, it didn’t show on his face.
I was so distracted that I almost missed my cue to hand Lisa’s bouquet back for her joyous walk through the on-their-feet-applauding crowd. I looped arms with the best man and tried to smile as naturally as possible. After all, my mother wanted perfect pictures, and I didn’t want the headache of being caught with my smile down.
My mother alternated between dabbing her eyes and clutching her hanky to her heart. You’d think it was the first wedding she’d attended. Hardly. She’d made the same walk five times and was actively looking for number six.
After shaking ninety-nine hands, I saw Liam bring up the rear of the receiving line. He smelled as good as he looked. No wonder the brunette had been campaigning so hard. I wouldn’t have minded nuzzling his neck.
I decided that was because he was in a tux. Most men look better in formal wear. Very James Bondy, and totally sexy—Liam even more so because of that lock of hair that always fell to his forehead. I really wanted to rake my fingers through his hair. Who was I kidding? I wanted him, period.
The next thirty minutes was spent on photographs. The poor photographer was getting it from both sides. My mother was giving him direction, as was Tenley Huntington-St. John. Since the guy’s portfolio included stars and professional athletes, I’m sure he was accustomed to all the instruction. I could just tell he was tired of it.
David and Lisa kept sharing little kisses between group shots. It would have been kind of sweet except that David kissed like an angelfish. I didn’t know a guy could pucker so long or so hard. Lisa could probably stand a foot away from him and those nasty lips still would have reached her.
It was time to return to the Ritz. Liam was nowhere to be seen, possibly in the company of the brunette, so I was relegated to sharing a limo with best man Mitchell something, as well as two other groomsmen and two of the other bridesmaids. Everyone seemed giddy and chatty on the way to the reception. It wasn’t that I was trying to be standoffish. I wasn’t. I just didn’t have much to add to conversations about medical procedures. One of the women, Brandi, Candi—something like that—was also an oncologist. The other woman was a surgical nurse. The best man and both groomsmen had been close to David since elementary school, and both had gone on to medical school. The one who wasn’t the best man had also earned a J.D. Guess that came in handy if he wanted to sue himself for malpractice.
“Your mother mentioned you worked for a law firm in Palm Beach?” Mitchell inquired politely.
Knowing my mother would kill me if I outed myself, I simply said, “West Palm Beach, actually. I specialize in trusts and estates and some litigation work.” True enough, but I felt kinda sleazy lying about my perfectly good job.
We made appropriate chitchat until we reached the hotel and I was freed from medical personnel hell. Yet again Jeffrey gathered us together and coordinated the way in which we would enter the ballroom. And yet again, I was next to last, looped arm in arm with Mitchell Who-Gives-a-Shit.
The bandleader announced us as if we were game-show contestants. “And here we have maid of honor and sister of the bride, Finley Tanner. She’s being escorted by Mitchell Helner, David’s close friend and best man.”
I almost expected parting gifts when Mitchell and I reached the dining area. Liam was already seated at a large circular table and had risen along with the rest of the attendees to greet Lisa and David. I joined in the applause as my sister beamed when she walked through the door. I don’t even think she noticed that the bandleader called her Mrs. David Huntington-St. John IV. No recognition that she was a doctor. I glanced across the table and read the pinched expression on my mother’s face. As much as she didn’t want me to tell a soul what I actually did for a living, it was nothing compared to how strongly she needed people to know that her other daughter was a successful physician.
I saw the brunette one table over and would easily have laid odds on her switching out her place card to be closer to Liam. If he noticed, it didn’t show as he pulled out my chair for me.
I liked that Lisa and David had forgone the traditional head table and opted instead to seat the wedding party up front, but at tables where they had friends or family. Lisa and David had a small table to themselves right near the edge of the dance floor.
If I thought the ballroom was incredible in the morning, it was nothing compared to how magical it looked all pulled together. The color scheme really did remind you of the beach. All we needed was an Ocean Breeze Yankee Candle to make it complete.
Wait staff in crisp, black uniforms poured champagne and passed trays of appetizers. There were shrimp, dates wrapped in bacon, caviar on tiny blinis with crème fraîche, prosciutto wrapped around melon, and sumptuous pâté de fois gras on toast points. The choices seemed endless, and I decided to pace myself since I knew a dinner of surf and turf was soon to follow. The champagne, on the other hand … I was all for having my glass topped off a few times before Liam leaned over and asked, “Don’t you have to give a toast?”
“In a couple of hours,” I answered more curtly than I’d intended. It was just that the brunette was leaning back in her chair listening to our exchange.
“Finley?” My mother spoke from her place on the opposite side of the table. “Remember your responsibilities.”
I shielded my mouth with my hand. “She reads lips when she isn’t flying around on her broomstick.”
Liam smiled. “Mrs. Rossi, would you care to dance?”
My mother looked as if he’d just asked her for a kidney. “I believe I will wait until after the traditional first dance by the bri
de and groom.”
If her condescension bothered Liam, he certainly didn’t show it. Instead, he called the waiter over and asked for a beer rather than the champagne. I thought my mother would get the vapors, whatever the hell vapors are. The only thing that would make it worse was if he drank it straight from the bottle. And given his choice, I’m sure Liam would have preferred that over the fancy glass the waiter placed in front of him.
“Is she always like this?”
“Only when she’s awake.”
I spent the next forty minutes sipping my drink and accepting the kind words of strangers. Most of them pointed out that Lisa and I looked nothing alike. I was sorely tempted to say, “That’s because my mother got knocked up by one of two men she was boffing at the time.” But I didn’t. The risk was far greater than the reward.
Liam couldn’t take a breath to please her. My mother began sharing her complaints with Great-aunt Susan—for whom my mother was named before she legally had her name changed from Susan to Cassidy. Because Great-aunt Susan is close to ninety, my mother had to yell to be heard. That gave her a nice excuse to point out that Liam’s handkerchief was not properly folded, that Liam was slouching in his chair like he was attending some sort of sporting event, that Liam had embarrassed her last night by flirting with other women at the rehearsal gala—which wasn’t true, they had been flirting with him. She finished by promising Great-aunt Susan that Liam and I weren’t seriously involved. In fact, she continued, in the world according to Cassidy, Liam and I barely knew each other. Her constant sniping made dinner seem to last an eternity. Then the bandleader called Mitchell up to the microphone to give his speech. I swear, it was longer than the State of the Union address. He started with his first meeting with David and ended with a more current recollection. When it was my turn, I went up, took the microphone, and said, “It can be hard to share your sister with someone else, but I am thrilled to share Lisa with David. The love you show for and to each other is inspiring and beautiful, and I look forward to seeing it continue to grow. I am honored to be able to raise a toast to my wonderful sister and her new husband. To Lisa and David!”
4 Slightly Irregular Page 16