Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic 5-Book Bundle (85 page)

This is probably not the moment to tell her that there’s no way in a million years I’m moving to this building.

“I’ll introduce you to her later. But now I’m about to make the toast,” she says. “If you would both come over to the podium.”

“Excellent!” I say, trying to sound enthusiastic, and take a gulp of champagne.

“Mother, you’ve met Michael,” says Luke.

“Indeed,” says Elinor with a gracious smile. “How do you do?”

“Very well, thank you,” says Michael pleasantly. “I intended to come to the launch of your foundation but unfortunately couldn’t make it up from Washington. I hear it went very well, though?”

“It did. Thank you.”

“And now another happy occasion.” He gestures around the room. “I was just saying to Luke, how lucky he was to have landed such a beautiful, talented, accomplished girl as Becky.”

“Indeed.” Elinor’s smile freezes slightly.

“But you must feel the same way.”

There’s silence.

“Of course,” says Elinor at last. She extends her hand and, after a tiny hesitation, places it on my shoulder.

Oh God. Her fingers are all cold. It’s like being touched by the ice queen. I glance at Luke, and he’s glowing with pleasure.

“So! The toast!” I say brightly. “Lead the way!”

“See you later, Michael,” says Luke.

“Have a good one,” replies Michael, and gives me the tiniest of winks. “Luke,” he adds more quietly as she moves away, “on the subject of your mother’s charity, I’d like to have a word later.”

“Right,” says Luke after a pause. “Fine.”

Is it my imagination or does he look slightly defensive?

“But do the toast first,” says Michael pleasantly. “We’re not here to talk business.”

As I walk through the room with Luke and Elinor, I can see people starting to turn and murmur. A little podium has been set up at one end of the room, and as we step up onto it I start to feel a little nervous for the first time. Silence has fallen around the room and the entire assembled gathering is looking at us.

Two hundred eyes, all giving me the Manhattan Onceover.

Trying to stay unself-conscious, I search among the crowd for faces I recognize. But apart from Michael at the back, there isn’t a single one.

I keep smiling, but inside I feel a bit low. Where are my friends? I know Christina and Erin are on their way—but where’s Danny? He promised he was going to come.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” says Elinor graciously, “welcome. It gives me enormous pleasure to welcome you here tonight on this happy occasion. Particularly Marcia Fox, president of this building, and Guinevere von . . .”

“I don’t care about your stupid list!” comes a high-pitched voice from the door, and a couple of heads at the back turn to look.

“. . . von Landlenburg, associate of the Elinor Sherman Foundation . . .” says Elinor, her jaw growing more rigid.

“Let me in, you stupid cow!”

There’s a scuffling sound and a small scream, and the whole room turns to see what’s going on.

“Get your hands off me. I’m pregnant, OK? If anything happens I’ll sue!”

“I don’t believe it!” I shriek in delight, and jump down off the podium. “Suze!”

“Bex!” Suze appears through the door, looking tanned and healthy, with beads in her hair and a sizable bump showing through her dress. “Surprise!”

Seven

“W
E THOUGHT WE
’
D
surprise you!” says Suze after the fuss has died down and Elinor has made her toast—in which she mentions me and Luke once, and the Elinor Sherman Foundation six times. “Like a last bit of our honeymoon! So we turned up at your flat . . .”

“And I was, as ever, running perfectly on time . . .” puts in Danny, giving me an apologetic grin.

“So Danny said why didn’t we come along to the party and give you a bit of a shock?”

“It’s so great to see you.” I give her an affectionate hug. “And Tarquin.” We all glance toward Tarquin, who has been surrounded by a group of avidly interested New York ladies.

“Do you live in a castle?” I can hear one of them saying.

“Well . . . um, yes. Actually, I do.”

“Do you know Prince Charles?” says another, goggling.

“We’ve played polo once or twice . . .” Tarquin looks around, desperate to escape.

“You
have
to meet my daughter,” says one of the ladies, putting a clamplike arm round his shoulders. “She loves England. She visited Hampton Court
six times.
”

“He is spectacular,” says a low voice in my ear, and I look round to see Danny gazing over my shoulder at Tarquin. “Utterly spectacular. Is he a model?”

“Is he a
what
?”

“I mean, this story about him being a farmer.” Danny drags on his cigarette. “It’s bullshit, right?”

“You think Tarquin should be a
model
?” I can’t help a snort of laughter erupting through me.

“What?” says Danny defensively. “He has a fantastic look. I could design a whole collection around him. Prince Charles meets . . . Rupert Everett . . . meets—”

“Danny, you do know he’s straight?”

“Of course I know he’s straight! What do you take me for?” Danny gives a thoughtful pause. “But he went to English boarding school, right?”

“Danny!” I give him a shove and look up. “Hi, Tarquin! You managed to get away!”

“Hello!” says Tarquin, looking a bit harassed. “Suze, darling, have you given Becky the stuff from her mother?”

“Oh, it’s back at the hotel,” says Suze, and turns to me. “Bex, we dropped in on your mum and dad on the way to the airport. They are so obsessed!” She giggles. “They can’t talk about anything but the wedding.”

“I’m not surprised,” says Danny. “It sounds like it’s going to be fairly amazing. Catherine Zeta-Jones, eat your heart out.”

“Catherine Zeta-Jones?” says Suze interestedly. “What do you mean?”

I feel my body stiffen all over. Shit. Think.

“Danny,” I say casually. “I think the editor of
Women’s Wear Daily
is over there.”

“Really? Where?” Danny’s head swivels round. “I’ll be back in a second.” He disappears off into the party and I subside in relief.

“When we were there, they were having this huge argument about how big the marquee should be,” says Suze with another giggle. “They made us sit on the lawn, pretending to be guests.”

I don’t want to hear about this. I take a gulp of champagne and try to think of another topic.

“Have you told Becky the other thing that happened?” says Tarquin, looking suddenly grave.

“Er . . . no, not yet,” says Suze guiltily, and Tarquin gives a deep, solemn sigh.

“Becky, Suze has something she needs to confess.”

“That’s right.” Suze bites her lip and looks abashed. “We were at your parents’ house, and I asked to look at your mum’s wedding dress. So we were all admiring it, and I was holding a cup of coffee . . .” She hangs her head. “And then—I don’t know how it happened, but . . . I spilled my coffee on the dress.”

I stare at her incredulously. “On the dress? Are you serious?”

“We offered to clean it, of course,” says Tarquin. “But I’m not sure it will be wearable. We’re so incredibly sorry, Becky. And we’ll pay for another dress, of course.” He looks at his empty glass. “Can I get anyone another drink?”

“So the dress is . . . ruined?” I say, just to be sure.

“Yes, and it wasn’t easy, I can tell you!” says Suze as soon as Tarquin is out of earshot. “The first time I tried, your mum whisked it away just in time. Then she started getting all worried and saying she’d better put it away. I had to practically
throw
my coffee cup at it, just as she was packing it up—and even then it only just caught the train. Of course, your mum hates me now,” she adds gloomily. “I shouldn’t think I’ll get invited to the wedding.”

“Oh, Suze. She doesn’t really. And thank you
so
much. You’re a complete star. I honestly didn’t think you’d manage it.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you look like a lamb cutlet, could I?” Suze grins. “The weird thing is, in her wedding pictures, your mum looks really lovely in it. But in real life . . .” She pulls a little face.

“Exactly. Oh, Suze, I’m so glad you’re here.” Impulsively I give her a hug. “I thought you’d be all . . . married. What’s being married like, anyway?”

“Kind of the same,” says Suze after a pause. “Except we have more plates—”

I feel a tapping on my shoulder and look up to see a red-haired woman wearing a pale silk trouser suit.

“Laura Redburn Seymour,” she says, extending her hand. “My husband and I have to go, but I just wanted to say I just heard about your wedding plans. I got married in exactly the same place, fifteen years ago. And let me tell you, when you walk down that aisle, there’s no feeling like it.” She clasps her hands and smiles at her husband, who looks exactly like Clark Kent.

“Gosh,” I say. “Well . . . thank you!”

“Were you brought up in Oxshott, then?” asks Suze cheerfully. “That’s a coincidence!”

Oh, fuck.

“I’m sorry?” says Laura Redburn Seymour.

“Oxshott!” says Suze. “You know!”

“Ox? What ox?” Laura Redburn Seymour looks confusedly at her husband.

“We don’t believe in hunting,” says Clark Kent a little coldly. “Good evening. And congratulations again,” he adds to me.

As the two walk off, Suze stares at me in puzzlement. “Bex. Did that make any sense?”

“I . . . erm . . .” I rub my nose, playing for time.

I really don’t know why, but I have a strong feeling that I don’t want to tell Suze about the Plaza.

OK. I do know why. It’s because I know exactly what she’ll say.

“Yes!” I say at last. “I think it did, kind of.”

“No, it didn’t! She didn’t get married in Oxshott. Why did she think you would be walking up the same aisle as her?”

“Well . . . you know . . . they’re American. Nothing they say makes sense . . . So, er . . . wedding dress shopping! Shall we go tomorrow?”

“Ooh, definitely!” says Suze, her brow immediately unfurling. “Where shall we go? Does Barneys have a bridal department?”

Thank God Suze is so sweet and unsuspicious.

“Yes, it does,” I say. “I’ve had a quick look, but I haven’t tried anything on yet. The only thing is, I haven’t got an appointment, and it’s a Saturday tomorrow.” I wrinkle my brow. “We could try Vera Wang but that’ll probably be all booked up . . .”

“I want to go baby shopping as well. I’ve got a list.”

“I’ve bought a couple of things,” I say, looking fondly at her bump. “You know. Just little presents.”

“I want a really nice mobile . . .”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you one of those. And some really cute little outfits!”

“Bex! You shouldn’t have!”

“There was a sale on at Baby Gap!” I say defensively.

“Excuse me?” interrupts a voice, and we both look up to see a lady in black and pearls approaching. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation just now. My name is Cynthia Harrison. I’m a great friend of Elinor’s and also of Robyn, your wedding planner. You’re in very good hands there!”

“Oh, right!” I say politely. “That’s nice to hear!”

“If you’re looking for a wedding dress, may I invite you both along to my new bridal boutique, Dream Dress?” Cynthia Harrison beams at me. “I’ve been selling wedding dresses for twenty years, and this very week I’ve opened a store on Madison Avenue. We have a huge selection of designer gowns, shoes, and accessories. Personal service in a luxurious environment. All your bridal needs catered to, however great or small.”

She stops rather abruptly, as though she’s been reading off a card.

“Well . . . OK! We’ll come tomorrow!”

“Shall we say eleven o’clock?” suggests Cynthia, and I glance at Suze, who nods.

“Eleven it is. Thank you very much!”

As Cynthia Harrison departs, I grin at Suze excitedly. But she’s peering over at the other side of the room.

“What’s up with Luke?” she says.

“What do you mean?” I turn round and stare. Luke and Michael are in the corner of the room, away from everyone else, and it looks as though they’re arguing.

As I watch, Luke raises his voice defensively, and I catch the words “the bigger picture, for God’s sake!”

“What are they talking about?” says Suze.

“I’ve got no idea!”

I strain as hard as I can, but I can only hear the odd phrase.

“. . . simply don’t feel . . . appropriate . . .” Michael is saying.

“. . . short term . . . feel it’s entirely appropriate . . .”

Luke looks really rattled.

“. . . wrong impression . . . abusing your position . . .”

“. . . had enough of this!”

I watch in dismay as Luke stalks off, out of the room. Michael looks completely taken aback by his reaction. For a moment he’s stock still—then he reaches for his glass and takes a slug of whiskey.

I can’t believe it. I’ve never known Luke and Michael to have a cross word before. I mean, Luke adores Michael. He practically sees him as a father figure. What on earth can be going on?

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I murmur to Suze, and hurry, as discreetly as possible, over to where Michael is still standing, staring into space.

“What was all that about?” I demand as soon as I reach him. “Why were you and Luke fighting?”

Michael looks up, startled—then quickly composes his features into a smile.

“Just a little business disagreement,” he says. “Nothing to worry about. So, have you decided on a honeymoon location yet?”

“Michael, come on. It’s me! Tell me what’s going on.” I lower my voice. “What did you mean, Luke’s abusing his position? What’s happened?”

There’s a long pause and I can see Michael weighing up whether or not to tell me.

“Did you know,” he says at last, “that at least one member of staff from Brandon Communications has been redeployed to work for the Elinor Sherman Foundation?”

“What?” I stare at him in shock. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve recently discovered that a new assistant at the company has been assigned to work for Luke’s mother. Brandon Communications is still paying her salary—but essentially she’s Elinor’s full-time lackey. Naturally she’s unhappy about the situation.” Michael sighs. “All I wanted to do was raise the point, but Luke’s very defensive.”

“He hasn’t said anything about this to me!” I say incredulously.

“He hasn’t said anything about it to anybody. I only found out because it so happens that this assistant knows my daughter, and felt she could call me up.” Michael lowers his voice. “The real danger is that she might complain to the investors. Then Luke would be in trouble.”

“It’s his mother,” I say at last. “You know what a hold she’s got over him. He’ll do anything to impress her.”

“I know,” says Michael. “And I can understand that. Everyone has their own hang-ups.” He looks at his watch. “I have to go, I’m afraid.”

“You can’t leave! Not without talking to him again!”

“I’m not sure that would do any good right now.” Michael looks at me kindly. “Becky, don’t let this spoil your evening. And don’t go and give Luke a hard time. It’s obviously a very sensitive topic.” He squeezes my arm. “I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

“I won’t. I promise!” I force myself to smile brightly. “And thanks for coming, Michael. It meant a lot to us. Both of us.”

I give him a warm hug and watch as he walks away. Then, when he’s gone, I head out of the room. I have to talk to Luke, as quickly as possible.

Obviously, Michael’s right. It’s a very sensitive subject, so I won’t go charging in. I’ll just ask a few probing, tactful questions, and gently steer him in the right direction. Just like a future wife should.

Eventually I find him upstairs, sitting in a chair in his mother’s bedroom, staring into space.

“Luke, I just spoke to Michael!” I exclaim. “He told me you were sending the Brandon Communications staff over to work for your mother’s charity!”

Oops. That didn’t quite come out right.

“One assistant,” says Luke without turning his head. “OK?”

“Can’t she hire her own assistant? Luke, what if your investors find out?”

“Becky, I’m not completely stupid. This whole charity thing will be good for the company too.” At last he turns his head to look at me. “This business is all about image. When I’m photographed handing over some enormous check to a deserving charity, the positive effect will be enormous. These days, people want to be associated with companies that give something back. I’ve already planned a photo opportunity in the
New York Post
in a couple of weeks’ time, plus a couple of carefully placed features. The effect on our profile will be huge!”

“So why didn’t Michael see it like that?”

“He wasn’t listening. All he could talk about was how I was ‘setting the wrong precedent.’ ”

“Well, maybe he has a point! I mean, surely you hire staff in order to work for you, not to send off to other companies—”

“This is a one-off example,” says Luke impatiently. “And in my opinion, the benefits to the company will far outweigh any costs.”

“Michael’s your partner! You should listen to him. You should trust him.”

“And he should trust me!” retorts Luke angrily. “There won’t be a problem with the investors. Believe me, when they see the publicity we’re going to generate, they’ll be more than happy. If Michael could just
understand
that, instead of quibbling over stupid details . . . Where is he, anyway?”

“Michael had to go,” I say—and see Luke’s face tighten in shock.