A sister shares childhood memories and grown-up dreams.
—Author unknown
Chapter Twenty-Six
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Friday morning, Tony left the apartment early, so Eric could drive Claire and Emily to the boutique. On her way to Emily’s hotel, Claire contemplated her fiancé. By the time he came to bed the night before, she was sleeping. She faintly remembered him kissing her and turning out the lights. Maybe he hadn’t been reviewing surveillance. Maybe he was doing actual work—on Thanksgiving night? No matter, she was relieved that when he came to bed, he wasn’t upset. This morning, before leaving, he hugged her tight and told her to have fun with her sister choosing her wedding gown. Claire wanted to believe her life was as it appeared.
Traffic to the hotel was crazy. Until Claire saw the multitude of people, she’d forgotten all about Black Friday. The department stores were inundated with hoards of shoppers. Seeing the mayhem around her, made their destination of a private boutique all that more appealing.
The associates at the boutique would be totally devoted to them. None of this mad rush she witnessed from the windows of the limousine. Smiling faintly, she fondly remembered Black Friday shopping with her mom and Emily when she was young. To save twenty-five, fifty, or a hundred-dollars, they would wake at three in the morning and stand in multiple lines. Although it sounded unpleasant—the memories were warm.
Eric approached the Hyatt Regency a few minutes before 9:00 AM. Emily wasn’t waiting. “Miss, would you like me to go to the front desk and inquire of Mrs. Vandersol?”
Claire thought a moment. “No, we’ll give her a few minutes, and then I’ll go in.” Emily hadn’t read the Anthony Rawlings’s rules of punctuality memo. Claire decided she deserved some slack. Five minutes after 9:00 AM, Emily emerged from the lobby. Eric quickly got out of the car and opened the door. Emily entered the limousine and hugged Claire. She looked around at the leather seats and splendor.
“Seriously, this is how you get around New York City?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t feel ostentatious? Perhaps you haven’t heard but our country is in the midst of an economic downturn.”
Eric pulled away from the curb, and they entered the magnitude of cars. It wasn’t the stop-and-go traffic causing Claire’s neck muscles to tighten—more the sudden onset of defensiveness. “Emily, please don’t judge me or Tony. I want you to be part of our wedding. Let’s have fun looking for dresses.”
Emily exhaled and sat back on the seat. “Claire, I want to. I really do.”
Claire could tell there was a but coming—
*
Emily continued, “But, John and I sat up for hours discussing you and Anthony.”
Sitting straighter, Claire asked, “What did the two of you decide?”
“We decided we love you. We’re so happy Anthony invited us to get to see you, but there is one of our concerns.” Claire raised her eyebrows, Emily inquired, “Why did Anthony need to invite us? Why couldn’t you?”
Claire’s head almost touched the ceiling, she sat so straight. Looking Emily directly in the eye, she replied, “Emily, that’s ridiculous. I could. I told you things have just been busy. With his schedule, we’re all over the place, as I’m sure you’ve read about in the media. I didn’t even know until last week Tony was needed in New York”—then to clarify, she added—“He didn’t know until last week. He has a lot on his plate.”
“Uh…hmmm, please know we’re just concerned. It seems like you’re a different person.” The conversation paused and Emily continued, “That isn’t necessarily bad, but it makes us uncomfortable.” Claire was still Emily’s little sister; however, she was now polished and refined. The stylish, elegant, and worldly woman commuting in limousines didn’t seem like the woman of months before. Emily continued to explain her concern, “I’ve tried to learn about Anthony Rawlings. Everything I found about him on Google is business related. He has an impressive reputation as a businessman, but I can’t find anything about him personally.”
“Emily, he’s an impressive private man, too. I must emphasize private. He asked me to join him in his private—personal life. I want you and John there. You must respect the importance of his confidentiality.”
They sat in standstill traffic. “Okay, we can do that. We still worry about you. Don’t you get to have a life too?”
*
Claire felt her blood pressure rise. She needed to defend the life she’d despised for months. It was time to utilize the compartmentalization—bring out the good stuff. “Just because I haven’t contacted you, doesn’t mean I don’t have a life. I do. I have a very full and rewarding life. I live in a beautiful home. We attend a number of events and functions. I’ve met wonderful friends in the Quad Cities area.” She surveyed Emily’s reaction. “I’m not doing meteorology—currently—but I’m working with Tony. As I said, he’s a very busy man, with a busy schedule.” She didn’t need to offer more explanation.
The car moved again. Emily stared incredulously, “Are you living with Anthony? How long have you been living with him?”
Claire exhaled; as much as it killed her, she knew she couldn’t spend her day like this. It was too much work, and although it was early, her head pounded. “Okay, Emily. I’m sorry this didn’t work.” Claire pushed the button and opened the window to the front of the car. “Eric, we have a change of plans. You may drop me off at the boutique, but Mrs. Vandersol will be going back to the Hyatt.”
Emily stared at Claire in disbelief.
Eric answered, “Yes, miss.”
Claire shut the window, sat back against the seat, and didn’t speak or look at Emily. She should be sad, but truly she was mad. Claire realized she’d behaved like Tony. Perhaps she was being too cautious about his rules, but she knew too well—behaviors had consequences. Given the choice, she’d choose to err on the side of Tony.
“Claire, I’m sorry. You’re obviously a strong independent woman. I think of you as—my kid sister—someone who needs us to look out for her. Anthony Rawlings is lucky to have you in his life. I still don’t understand how it all happened, and I don’t care how wonderful he is. He’s the fortunate one in this relationship. I love you and want to be a part of your wedding. If this is what you want, we’ll support you 100 percent.”
Claire was too emotional to be completely like Tony. Overwhelmed with a sense of relief, she reached over, hugged Emily, and smiled. “Good! Let’s put this behind us and have fun looking at dresses!” Pushing the button again, she said, “Eric, we’re both going to the bridal boutique.” She closed the window.
“One more thing though.” Concern showed in Emily’s green eyes. Claire exhaled; she didn’t want to hear one more thing. “John is planning to speak to you tonight about your prenuptial agreement.”
“What? I don’t know anything about that—he should talk to Tony”—Claire thought about that scenario—“On second thought—no—tell him not to worry about it. I totally trust Tony, and I honestly could care less about his money. It’s really not an issue; just tell John to forget it.”
Emily said, “I will, but I can’t make any promises. John’s an attorney and he thinks of you as his kid sister. He only wants what’s best for you.”
The entrance to the boutique was a grand ten foot high door surrounded by limestone. Above the door was a street number, but no visible store name. There were no gowns in the window or advertisements evident. It was a completely different experience from when they’d shopped for Emily’s dress. Claire knew from past boutique shopping to enter the boutique you needed to ring the bell; however, Eric had called ahead and as he parked the car at the curb and opened the door for Claire and Emily, the door of the boutique opened.
A woman in her fifties or sixties dressed in posh business attire rushed out to welcome Ms. Nichols to their modest boutique. She introduced herself, Sharon Springhill. As she ushered the women into the shop, she gushed, “Ms. Nichols, we’re so happy to receive Mr.
Rawlings’s call, yesterday. Since that moment we have worked diligently to create a collection especially for you. We truly hope that you, the future Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, will find the dress of your dreams today.”
Claire did her best to play the person she’d become. Looking at Emily and sensing her sister’s uneasiness, Claire decided this was an opportunity to educate her. “Ms. Springhill, I’m very excited to be here today. Mr. Rawlings told me the wonderful reputation of your boutique. I appreciate you taking the time to personally assist me on this holiday weekend.”
Ms. Springhill thanked Claire for the kind words. (Emily witnessed Claire’s ease with the situation.)
“Now, Ms. Springhill, this is my sister, Mrs. Vandersol. She will be my matron-of-honor. Perhaps Mr. Rawlings informed you that our wedding will be on December 18. I’m hopeful you’ll not only be able to assist me with my dress, but also one for my sister.” (Emily would experience the treatment Claire endured.)
Emily was immediately met with her own entourage of associates. Claire smiled at her sister as their eyes met and Emily shook her head. Mrs. Springfield offered the women coffee, water, tea, and champagne. Next, they were escorted to seats in front of an open area that reminded Claire of a dance floor in a hotel reception hall.
Ms. Springhill explained that she put together a collection especially for Mrs. Rawlings. It included many of the top wedding gown designers: Vera Wang, Oscar de la Renta, Manuel Mota, Monique Lhuiller, Maggie Sultero, Winnie Couture, and Mieko, as well as others. “Please sit back and relax while models display the most extravagant and stunning wedding gowns you’ve ever seen. Feel free to make any requests. If you choose, you may see any gowns again, and please touch the magnificent fabrics”—her enthusiasm flowed through her words—“Ms. Nichols, once you narrow the selection, you may try on those gowns. We’ll then take your measurements so that the gown of your dreams will be tailored specifically for you. Also, if you desire a certain gown but would like something changed, the designer can be contacted and every effort will be made to accommodate your desire.”
Mrs. Springhill continued, “After the wedding gowns—we’ll gladly repeat the process for Mrs. Vandersol. Is there anything we can get you to make you ladies more comfortable?”
“No, Mrs. Springhill; we’re very excited to see the gowns.”
The decision proved incredibly difficult. Most of the gowns were exquisite. Actually, some were a little strange, Claire and Emily exchanged glances; however, most were elegant. There were glamorous gowns with bold contrasts in volume, rich fabrics such as lace, organza, or heron, and the finest accessories. Some were covered with drapes bound with precious-stone details, natural folds, pleats, ruffles, or tulle.
There were fashionable gowns with very thin and light materials in fluid, sheer, and mermaid-cut styles. These were made with soft fabrics like chiffon, pleated chiffon, or morbid tulle. They accentuated curves, had impeccable details such as asymmetrical necklines, floral appliqué, feathers, or rich gemstone embroideries.
The Oscar de la Renta and Monique Lhuiller gowns were created in an attempt to recreate a world of dreams and pure fantasy. These wedding dresses had flattering strapless necklines, meticulously enhancing the waist, and skirts with spectacular volume. They included stunning A-line and mermaid styles, lined with thousands of feathers, cascading ruffles, and magical applications. Claire thought they would make Cinderella or Belle proud.
The sisters watched models for two hours, and Claire felt overwhelmed. She created a short list of over ten dresses. Ms. Springhill suggested Ms. Nichols and Mrs. Vandersol enjoy a light lunch while they view the ten dresses again.
While dining on chicken salad on a bed of lettuce with a side of fruit and iced tea, Claire narrowed the race to four gowns which varied significantly in style and were created by top designers. Before Claire would try on the four dresses, they needed to see the matron-of-honor dresses. The dresses they viewed were mostly black or silver, but Ms. Springhill promised any color that Claire desired.
Claire smiled and turned to Emily. “That’s wonderful! We’ll be able to get pink!” Ms. Springhill didn’t know she was teasing. The two sisters snickered.
They narrowed it to a satin Oscar de la Renta gown with a tighter skirt, a Valentino gown with a lace overlay, and a Monique Lhuiller gown that would be perfect with Claire’s second choice. They realized Claire must choose her wedding gown first and then the matron-of-honor’s dress would be chosen to complement.
At 2:30 PM they began trying on gowns. When Claire looked at her watch, she had a sickening feeling the process was taking too long. She worried Tony would wonder where they were, or perhaps think they went somewhere else. Hoping to avoid suspicion, Claire decided to check in with Eric and let him know it would be a while before they needed to be picked up. She used the shop’s telephone to call. Emily offered her phone, since Claire left hers at the apartment, but Claire decided the shop’s phone would be better. The boutique’s number would appear on Eric’s caller ID. She worried if she called Eric on Emily’s phone her location maybe questioned, and if she used Emily’s phone, Tony might assume she used it for other calls. It bothered her that every move needed to be scrutinized for possible misinterpretations. She told herself perhaps they didn’t, but better safe than sorry.
“Hello, Eric, this is Claire.”
“Yes, Ms. Claire, are you ready to be picked up?”
“No, that’s why I’m calling. This has been a very difficult process. I assume we’ll be here another hour or perhaps two. I’ll call you when we’re done.”
“Yes, Ms. Claire, I will be there when you’re ready.”
Emily could overhear her every word. Claire wanted to ask Eric to call Tony, to let him know they were still at the boutique; however, she worried it might raise Emily’s suspicions. So, instead, she said, “Thank you, Eric.”
Claire found herself in an uncomfortable situation regarding the measuring for her gown. She had so many things to think about—the lack of undergarments slipped her mind. Claire asked Ms. Springhill what undergarments were usually worn with these dresses and told her she would like to purchase some now so the dress would fit as close as possible to how it would on her wedding day. Apparently, this wasn’t an unusual request. Ms. Springhill brought her a strapless body-shaper. Once that was on, Claire allowed the attendants to take her measurements. The entire conversation went unnoticed by Emily. She was occupied with attendants measuring and catering to her every need.
Claire tried on each gown, entered a large mirrored room, and stood on a platform. She could see herself from all directions. More than anything Claire wanted Tony’s opinion. He once said Catherine knew what he liked. Claire wished Catherine was there now, but she wasn’t. Instead, Claire had Emily, who repeatedly told her how beautiful she looked in each dress—which wasn’t helping. Claire told herself repeatedly, My wedding will happen in three weeks—I need to make a decision.
The service and choices were fantastic. Spending time with her sister was wonderful. The stress; however, caused her head to ache.
Claire narrowed the list to two—the chiffon Oscar de la Renta gown—and the Vera Wang gown. Perhaps it was the issue of a December wedding in the Midwest; however the Vera Wang gown had a beautiful lace overlay that provide long lace sleeves as well as a long delicate train. Sleeves for a winter wedding in Iowa appealed to Claire.
Ms. Springfield knew Claire’s measurements and promised she could produce either gown in time. Nevertheless, with such an accelerated timetable, she ever so politely, emphasized the importance of a quick decision and informed Claire that she’d need to return for additional fittings. Claire replied that would be fine, but secretly wondered if Tony had anticipated that.
Next, they concentrated on Emily’s dress. Claire decided she really liked the Valentino dress with the lace overlay. It would complement either bridal gown. The next hurdle was color. There was a sudden realization that color had multiple implications—the decor
ations—the flowers—and the invitations usually all contained the same color scheme. Claire took color swatches and promised Ms. Springhill the color decision by Monday. Claire felt the impending tears—she had so many things to consider.
At almost 4:00 PM, Eric arrived to retrieve them from the boutique. Claire was exhausted and overwhelmed. She hadn’t spent that much time out and away from home since her accident. Her head pounded violently to the point of nausea and she wanted a nap. True to her new persona, Claire didn’t show Emily or anyone the way she felt.
Emily tried to pretend she didn’t notice, as Claire tipped the staff at the boutique. After models, the tailor’s assistants, and of course Ms. Springfield, the total was over a thousand dollars. This didn’t include the cost of a dress. Once in the car Emily genuinely expressed her elation at their shopping experience. “Claire, that was amazing! I’ve never been treated like that before.” Emily seized Claire’s hand. “Can you imagine if some of those girls from high school could see you now?”
Claire feigned a smile. Things like that no longer seemed important. “It really isn’t that big of deal.”
“Oh, my God, Claire, you just tipped half my house payment!”
“Really, Emily, please, it isn’t that important.” Emily’s reaction made her uncomfortable.
“You know, Claire, the only people who say money isn’t important are people who have it.” She then asked Claire about her dress, “I want to wear the dress you like, but I’ll be honest, with flying to Iowa, staying there for I don’t know how long, and other expenses, I don’t know if we can afford a dress from there. I noticed there were no price tags. That’s never a good sign.”
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 26
