Little Pink Slips (39 page)

appreciate your help." James Skyler, Esq., smiled coolly at Magnolia

as he put down his pen and legal pad. She and Wally walked to the

street and his waiting car.

"You did good," he said.

"Really?" She sighed. "Scary won't call me as a witness, will they?"

Wally threw his arms up in the air, then caught his crutches before

they fell. "Don't think about it," he said. "Compartmentalize."

"I can't," Magnolia said as the two of them started driving uptown.

"My mind is a big, open loft, which is currently a mess." She turned to

look at Wally. "Will you come to the trial—for moral support?"

"C'mon, you'll be fine," he said. "Bebe's lawyer will try to get you

to admit Jock attempted to cramp her style, usurp her good name,

force a different editor on her, and make her life unadulterated hell.

You decide if it's true or not. I don't need to be your little pit bull."

"You do!" Magnolia said.

"Okay, Mags. Then you and I are breaking up before the Mrs.

changes the locks."

C h a p t e r 3 9

Guts and Roses

"You must be Magnolia,"
said a tall, thin man with black hair curling over his collar. He kissed her on both cheeks.

"Abbey was right. You are beautiful."

"Thank you," Magnolia said, standing in Abbey's foyer. "Abbey for

got to mention your eyes. Not many of us have green eyes." His were

like olives, lightly flecked with caramel. If you took his face apart,

feature by feature, you wouldn't expect it to be reassembled in such a

handsome fashion. His nose was long. Under his eyes were slight

shadows, faintly lavender, like matching bruises. But it all worked,

especially the smile, which fanned a delicate web of early lines

toward each silver-laced temple.

"When the Moors invaded France, they left behind green eyes," he

said. "In Brazil, with all their mixed bloodlines, green eyes exist in

the most exotic medleys of skin and hair. Green eyes come when

opposites attract." His accent was heavy, and his voice low. "Daniel

Cohen," he said. "I am so happy we finally meet."

"I see you've found each other," Abbey said, linking her arm

through both his and Magnolia's. Next to Daniel, she looked even

more fragile than usual. She wore a white lace minidress, its high neck pinned with a garnet and diamond bumblebee Magnolia had

never seen.

"From Daniel," Abbey said, touching the brooch. "His great

grandmother's."

"Because Abbey reminds me of a bee—small, busy, making sweet

ness and beauty wherever she lands."

If an American man had said this, Magnolia would have wanted to

stick a finger down her throat. From Daniel, the sentiment sounded

poetic.

"The dress suits you, Magnolia," Daniel said.

"I knew it would," Abbey added. "I found it in the Paris flea mar

ket and wanted you to have it for tonight."

That morning a messenger had delivered a large, white box tied

with a silky bow and filled with layers of chartreuse tissue paper.

Magnolia pulled out a chocolate brown velvet dress, cut deep at the

décolleté, which was frosted with lace and beads. The skirt, layered

with rows of small, horizontal ruffles, was longer than Magnolia's

usual length. "For tonight—with your spiky, brown boots," the note

from Abbey commanded. It was a dress that Magnolia would have

never tried on in a store. She was fairly sure it made her resemble a

poodle, especially because Abbey had requested she wear her hair,

which hadn't been cut in three months, loose and curly.

"You don't think I'm old for ruffles? I'm feeling like I escaped from

the Moulin Rouge."

"You can bring it off," Abbey said.

When she had tried on the dress, Magnolia wondered if perhaps

tonight would be some kind of covert costume ball and everyone

would be similarly coiffed and clothed. That, however, was not the

case. The rest of the crowd—which, when she arrived, already over

flowed Abbey's foyer, dining room, and living room and stood deep in

the hall leading to her bedroom and library—wore the usual black

and charcoal wools of a Manhattan Sunday night in March.

Servers in tuxedos circulated with trays bearing white roses—her

favorite flower—and tuna tartare; flaky, Brie-filled biscuits; and roasted red peppers and chèvre on tiny baguettes. In the corner of the

living room, a pianist played jazz, and the piano sounded—for the

first time ever—perfectly in tune. Abbey had put in all three leaves of

her dining room table and set it with an old-world damask cloth, tall

white tapers in mismatched sterling silver holders, and her usual

garden of flowered Limoge. For a centerpiece, hundreds of ranuncu

lus and lilies of the valley were packed tight with miniature white

roses in an ornate silver ice bucket.

"How did you pull off this party so quickly?" Magnolia asked

when Daniel rushed over to greet a handsome older couple and a

woman about Magnolia's age, all regal and slim.

"It's amazing how freedom can kick-start your engine," Abbey said.

"Turns out, our divorce was about the only thing Tommy and I agreed

on. He met someone else, and wanted to move fast. Let me keep

everything. The minute the paperwork was signed, I felt I could fly."

"When will the divorce come through?" Wally and Magnolia's

split had been reasonably amicable and yet it had taken almost a year.

"Yesterday," she whispered in Magnolia's ear. "I'm single!"

"Abbey!" Magnolia said. "I don't even know what to say. Congratu

lations?"

"I accept," she said. "Now go mingle. This is my night, and you

have to promise to enjoy yourself."

"You're getting pretty damn pushy," Magnolia said. She kissed her

on the cheek and walked off to the bar for a glass of champagne—

except for water, the only beverage available. She scanned the room

and noticed a bearded man in his thirties who looked vaguely

familiar.

"Do I see you around the track?" she asked.

"Four times a week," he said, introducing himself. "Matthew

Hirsch, die-hard runner. Not that many of us crazies keep going

through the winter."

"How do you know Abbey?" she asked. It seemed odd that he was

here—when they ran together, Abbey had never greeted him at the

Reservoir. "We just met—the other day," he said. "On some business."

Abbey's next-door neighbor joined their conversation. "Good

evening, Rabbi Hirsch—may I steal you away?"

   "Rabbi?" Magnolia asked. Now it clicked. "Are you the rabbi the Ben Stiller character was based on in
Keep the Faith
?" She'd rented that DVD twice.

"Guilty as charged," Rabbi Hirsch said with a dimpled smile. He

hurried away with Abbey's neighbor, leaving Magnolia to penetrate

the crush of guests in the hallway.

"She knows how to throw a party, huh?" Cameron said, coming up

to her from behind. "Now I see why she didn't get jazzed when my

idea of a great date was Niko's on Broadway."

"You can feed me their moussaka any day, but Abbey's allergic to

plastic grapes dangling from ceilings," Magnolia said, smoothing her

ruffles. "By the way, I'm only in this ridiculous dress because Abbey

forced me to wear it."

"I was just thinking I like you all girly," Cameron said, clicking her

glass with his.

"That's high praise coming as it does from a man whose idea of

sartorial elegance is L.L.Bean."

"You just wish you owned a cap that repels ticks," he said. "And I'm

pretty sure I've seen you in a Bean Mad Bomber hat."

"I'm pretty sure you gave me that hat," Magnolia said. "And, for

the record, I love it."

The two of them wandered back to the bar for refills. "By the way,

you actually look very handsome tonight." He did. Magnolia couldn't

remember the last time she'd seen Cameron in a sport coat. They

leaned against the dining room wall, which was painted a deep per

simmon, a perfect backdrop for Magnolia's brown gown. "How did

your Bebe deposition go?" Magnolia wasn't the only one who'd been

living in lawyers' offices.

"Interminable," Cam said. "Was it true that during Ms. Blake's

vacation in Baja you sent her two hundred e-mails in one day? Did you

hear Jock Flanagan say Ms. Blake would be thrown off the magazine if she had any more 'bullshit hissy fits'? Did you call Felicity Dingle a

'harpy'? Like that. And by the way I didn't call Felicity a harpy. I

called her something much worse."

"So how are you spending your time when you're not in a lawyer's

office?" Magnolia asked. Phoebe was staying home with her baby, Sasha was studying for the LSAT, Ruthie got nabbed by
Lucky,
and Fredericka was skiing in Switzerland with a German school friend

who now owned half of Hamburg.

"Write, write, write."

"You're not job hunting?"

"I think my illustrious career as a managing editor may have

ground to a halt," Cam said, as his cell phone rang. He looked at the

name. "Find you later. Got to take this."

Magnolia began to search for someone else to talk to when Abbey

walked over. "Can I steal you away?" she said. She pointed toward the

hall. "In my bedroom."

Abbey closed the door behind them. She kicked off her silver san

dals, pushed aside a profusion of embroidered silk pillows, and

crawled onto her bed. From the bedside table, she handed Magnolia a

small box. "For you," she said.

"Another gift?" Magnolia said. "It's not my birthday, Abbey. You're

spoiling me." She shook the box. Maybe it was the spiral earrings

Bergdorf's ordered. Inside, however, was a small gold locket that dan

gled from an almost invisible chain. Magnolia opened it to find a pic

ture of the two of them, victorious after their first six-mile race. They

looked very young, very sweaty, and very happy.

"Put it on," Abbey insisted. The locket sat below Magnolia's collar

bone at exactly the right spot. "It's my way of thanking you."

"For what?" Magnolia said. "Being a best friend doesn't require

thanks." She gave Abbey a lingering hug.

"Being a maid of honor does," Abbey whispered, still embraced in

Magnolia's arms.

   Magnolia pushed her away so she could see her face and said very quietly. "Excuse me? You're getting
married
?" Magnolia decided not to add "again."

"Yes!" Abbey said and started to cry. "I know it's abrupt, but he's

the one. Daniel and I together are magic."

Magnolia fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. "When's

the wedding?" she asked.

"Soon," Abbey said.

"How soon?"

She heard Abbey draw a breath. "In ten minutes."

Magnolia bolted upright. Abbey grabbed a tissue next to her bed so

the tears streaming down her face wouldn't drop on her dress. Her

wedding dress. "Hold on." She darted into her bathroom.

Hold on, that's for damn sure. Get a grip, Magnolia thought, as she

fell back on the bed and began to take short, hyperventilated breaths.

Abbey walked out of her bathroom, holding two nosegays: one with

white roses and lilies of the valley tied with garnet-red silk ribbon

and another of chocolate brown rununculus and lilac roses, which she

handed to Magnolia.

   "Your bouquet," Abbey said, placing her own bouquet on the bed. "Now, please help me with this veil. It's your
job.
" From her closet she pulled out a wisp of tulle attached to a comb jeweled with garnets that

matched her bee pin. "I stayed up all night, trying to get this right."

She sat down at her silvery mirrored antique desk and faced its

matching mirror. Magnolia put the veil on Abbey's head but it wound

up crooked. Abbey looked deranged. Magnolia tried again, but her

hands were shaking too hard to get the comb in place. Abbey gently

pulled Magnolia's hand off the headpiece and futzed with it until she

looked like the bride on the top of a cake. She grabbed Magnolia's

hand. "I know you think I'm making a mistake—another mistake,

even bigger than Tommy."

"That's not what I'm thinking," Magnolia said, "because I don't

know what to think."

"It's crazy, but it's good crazy," Abbey said. "We'll live here and

Daniel will commute, and in the summers we'll live in France near

his vineyards, and of course I'll go to Paris whenever I can." Abbey's

words were flying faster than Magnolia could catch. "I love his family,