“I hope so,” he whispered, and cupped my face in his hands. My heart was trembling with anticipation.
“Come here.” Without warning, he pulled me closer and touched his lips to mine. Quickly. Gently. Almost as if it had never happened. Then he got out of the taxi and walked into his building alone.
And I sat there. Overcome by the compulsion to tell him how I felt about him. To tell him to choose me. To forget Tatiana. To confess everything and beg for his forgiveness.
But I didn’t. Not yet.
33 JORDANA
“What am I going to do with him?” my mother asked.
I was surprised to learn that my father wanted to be cremated. I figured a man like him would want to remain in one solid piece so he could terrorize people in the afterlife.
“Flush him down the toilet?” I suggested, thankful that I’d be long gone by the time she received his ashes.
“That’s not funny,” she scolded. I knew there had to be a part of her that was relieved he was gone, even though she’d never admit it.
“Well, I don’t think I’m the right person to ask, then.” We were walking side by side along Compo Beach in Westport—an affluent coastal town in Fairfield County where Manhattan transplants flock to greener grass, cleaner air, and sand between their toes. Where kids can ride bikes around their neighborhood, swim in the ocean on a weekday afternoon, and walk to their friends’ houses without looking over their shoulders. John thinks I grew up here.
“I wish you wouldn’t go yet.” She’d asked for one more hour with me. I couldn’t say no—the woman had just lost her husband.
“I know. But this is my busiest time at work.” I paused for a moment to watch a young girl, no older than three, lapping a leaky ice cream cone until her chin was gooey and her shirt was stained with chocolate.
“You’ll come back soon?”
“I don’t think so.” We continued on.
“But . . .”
“Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll find a way.” I picked up a shell but it was cracked, so I let it drop. The truth is, I don’t know if we’ll find a way. One thing I do know is that I can’t hold on to the anger I felt toward my mother any longer. Maybe she did do the best she could. It’s just too complicated to think about now.
“Just stay for a few more minutes.” She gazed out over the water.
“You’ll be fine without him,” I encouraged, as two women dressed in yoga gear sped past us, pumping their arms as they chatted easily. Not a care in the world. Or maybe it just seemed that way. Maybe they have secrets too. “You’ll be better off.”
“I’m not strong like you, Jordana.” She shook her head.
“Yes, you are.” She had to be to have survived him.
She faced me then. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
“It’s okay, Mom.” And if it wasn’t, it would be.
“No, it’s not. I should have stopped him. I should have done something. Anything. I was hardly innocent.” We came to a shack named Joey’s that touted the best lobster roll in Connecticut and stood there for a few minutes, as a gaggle of shirtless boys in damp board shorts staggered themselves around a picnic table and shoved fried clams and potato chips into their mouths. Then we turned around and walked back in the same direction we’d come from.
“You couldn’t have stopped him. Neither of us could.” I draped my arm across her back. “He was sick.”
“I know.” She bit her lip to stop it from quivering. “But as you said, you were the child. I was the adult. It was my responsibility. Not yours.”
“It’s in the past. Let’s leave it there, all right?” She didn’t answer.
A minute passed as we carried on in silence. A hush of sadness.
“Are you happy, Jordana?”
“What do you mean?” It was an unexpected question from someone who knows so much about who I was, yet so little about the person I am today.
“I mean, in life. Are you happy? I know you have a career. I know you have a lot of money, and a fancy car. But that can’t be enough. I also know you’re married, but I haven’t seen you talk to your husband once. And he’s certainly not here to support you. I also know you have no children. So I want to know if you’re really happy with all of that.”
“I’m not sure, Mom.” It was the truth. Plain and simple. I’ve known it all along. It just never mattered before. Or I never let it matter. I was so focused on proving my worth. On achieving financial sanctuary. On being someone who people didn’t pity. Maybe I forgot what it means to be happy. If ever I knew what it meant in the first place.
“Then do something about it.”
“It’s not that simple. I can’t just snap my fingers.”
“Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Don’t let anyone else ruin you. And don’t ruin yourself. You’re better than that.”
“I tried to help you. I left you the ring and some money. Why didn’t you run too?”
“Where would I have gone? What would I have done to survive? I didn’t know anything other than what I had. And I couldn’t just abandon your father when he got hurt.” She reached into her purse and handed me a small velvet pouch. “This is yours.”
I released the drawstrings and pulled out the ring. Kerrie’s mother’s ring, still strung on the gold chain she wore around her neck. “I can’t believe you kept it all this time.” It was just as I recalled: a simple round stone with two smaller diamonds on either side. Nothing like the rings my brides wear or my own six-carat cushion cut. But still perfect. I turned toward the ocean and held it in my open palm.
My mother stood next to me and said, “He loved you, Jordana. In his own way. And I love you too.”
With that, she moved gradually toward the shoreline, her shoulders heaving. I listened to her quiet tears, but I didn’t follow her. Then I closed my eyes and whispered, “Good-bye, old man.”
34 JORDANA
By the next morning, I was back at work with my past safely in the rearview mirror.
My focus is fiery and fierce again. And all of it is on Tatiana and William’s wedding, which is approaching fast. God bless Olivia for keeping everything in order while I was gone.
I still can’t shake the feeling that there’s something so familiar about her. Every now and then I’ll spot a mannerism I’m faintly acquainted with, or she’ll say something that almost harkens a memory. Almost. And then it’s gone. Maybe I knew her in another life. Either way, I’m sure I can trust her, which is more than I can say for most people.
“Okay, so let’s go over a few things.” I sat down at my desk and gestured for her to sit across from me. “First, I want to say thank you so much for taking care of everything while I was gone. I truly appreciate it. You’ll definitely be receiving the promotion I promised you, and a bonus. Second, I’ve noticed how devoted you’ve been to bettering yourself, not only on the job. And your confidence is on point. I know these things may seem superficial, but in this line of work, they can be everything. Really impressive, Olivia.”
“Thank you.” She smiled and rolled her shoulders back to illustrate my point.
“Getting down to business. What are the outstanding details for the Doonan-Blunt wedding?”
“For one, William still doesn’t have a ring.”
“You’re kidding me. I thought you went with him yesterday.”
“I did meet William, but it wasn’t a successful trip.”
“I don’t understand. Doesn’t he know he’s getting married imminently?” Something isn’t right about this. Usually the groom’s band is the easiest thing to cross off the list. “What’s he going to do when she has to place the ring on his finger? Use one from a vending machine?”
“I’ll call him today and light a fire,” she assured.
“Perfect. Moving on. Where are we with Caroline and Tatiana’s dresses?”
“Tatiana’s second and third dresses are done. And her first dress should be done ASAP. Same with Caroline’s. Her shrug did arrive, but s
he hasn’t tried it on yet. She said she’ll come in with Tatiana for her final fitting to firm everything up. And not to touch it. So I just left it in the garment bag the way it was delivered.”
“Smart,” I praised. “Caviar bar?”
“All good.”
“Whiskey tasting for the rehearsal dinner?” I continued.
“Done,” she acknowledged.
“Dominique Ansel is confirmed for desserts?”
“Yup.”
“In person?”
“Absolutely.”
“And every couple is taking home a miniature version of the wedding cake as a favor, right?”
“One hundred percent,” she reassured.
“Fireworks at the after party?”
“Check.”
“Excellent. Still, we’ll need to follow up with all of these people again the week of. There is never too much follow-up. Dot every i, cross every t. And, always remember, mistakes will be made because vendors are not as invested in the success of the wedding as we are. No one else is. Except maybe Caroline.”
“Got it.”
“I think we’ve covered enough for now. I’ll need a few updates on the other weddings once I’ve caught up on some paperwork.” I exhaled for what felt like the first time since my return. It’s amazing how being gone for two days can feel like a lifetime. “It’s good to be back in the swing of things.”
“Did you have a nice time with your friend?”
“Well, I wasn’t actually with a friend.” If not for the call from my mother, I may have gotten away with lying to Olivia too, although a part of me wants to confide in her. “I didn’t have time to explain everything while I was gone.”
“I kind of figured.” But she didn’t say anything. One of the many things I admire about her.
“It’s okay. It’s always better to err on the side of discretion,” I confirmed. “I was actually home. I grew up in Connecticut. At the address you sent the clothing to.”
“I see.”
“My father passed away while I was there.”
“Oh my God.” Her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I had no idea.”
“No one did. No one does. And it’s fine. We weren’t close at all.”
“Still . . .”
“He wasn’t a good person. To say the least.”
“I understand.” She didn’t. She couldn’t, even though it is nice to have another person in my new life, aside from Cathy and Stan, who knows what happened.
“He was abusive,” I revealed. Maybe I just wanted to say it out loud. Or maybe I want Olivia to know more about me.
“That’s so awful. I can’t even imagine.”
“Well, you should be thankful for that. It wasn’t easy.” My eyes stung. “I know it may seem like I live in this perfect world, but it hasn’t always been that way. Appearances can be deceiving.”
“I really am sorry.” She reached out and touched my arm, as a few tears escaped down my cheeks.
“Anyway,” I sniffed and wiped the tears away quickly, “I left eighteen years ago and I finally have the closure I need. I hope.”
“I hope so too.” She hesitated. “You can talk to me any time, you know.”
“I do. At least now I do.” I nodded faintly. “Thank you again, for being a friend.”
“Of course. I just feel terrible for you, for everything you’ve been through. No one should have to endure that.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” I took a long, deep breath. “Please keep this between us. Not a word to anyone.”
“I will. If there’s anything I can do . . .”
“There’s nothing to do at this point.”
“How’s your mother doing? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“She’s heartbroken. She loved him, despite everything.”
“I see.”
“She’ll be happier without him though.” I smiled at Olivia.
“That’s good.” She smiled back.
“We both will be. Soon enough.”
35 JORDANA
“You’re going to have to meet me at the Doonan wedding.” I sat up in bed, next to John, watching him scan through emails on his iPhone and occasionally murmur something tetchy under his breath.
“I’m not doing that,” he answered moments later, as if he’d only just heard me.
“What do you mean?” It was midnight already, and I’d worked long hours to catch up on everything since my return from Connecticut. The first thing I wanted was a decent night’s sleep before waking up early to get back at it. The last thing I wanted to do was argue with my husband.
“Jordana”—he turned to me then—“we’re invited as a couple, and that’s how we’ll go. Anything else would be tacky.”
“I have to get there first thing that morning so I can make sure everything is in place. And I’ll be there all day. I’m just not sure I’ll have time to come home in between.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” He picked up his reading glasses and set them on the bridge of his nose.
“Well, I’m not. And you know this has to go seamlessly. You do want that, right?”
“Of course I do,” he grumbled. “I just don’t see why I need to keep sacrificing for this silly hobby of yours.”
“It’s not a hobby.” I pinched the underside of my thigh beneath the sheets.
“Oh really?” He placed his phone on the nightstand in a show of exasperation. “If it doesn’t make money, it’s not a job.”
“Well, I’m hoping to turn a profit this year.” As I have every other year.
“How much?” he challenged.
“I don’t know.” I wasn’t prepared for such a direct question.
“You don’t know?”
“Not exactly.”
“Let me put it this way. Will it make a difference in our lifestyle?” He swept his hand across the room as if to say, Look at all that I provide for us.
“That’s not a fair question, and you know that.”
“Sure it is,” he sighed. “Jordana, I’m sick of this. I don’t want a wife who works late. Or who goes out of town for business. I want a wife who accompanies me to my boss’s daughter’s wedding. I expect you to be by my side, literally and figuratively. This isn’t what I signed up for.”
“It’s not forever.” I tried to placate him. I’m not ready to leave just yet.
“No, it’s not. This has to be it. You’ve been more invested in Tatiana and William’s happiness than in mine, and I don’t like it.” He looked me directly in the eyes, a rare occurrence. “If the company doesn’t make a significant amount of money by year’s end, you’re shutting it down. Understood?”
“John,” I objected.
He shook his head to silence my protest.
“I’ll meet you at the wedding. This once.” He held up his index finger. “As long as we’re in agreement.”
“Okay,” I relented, as resentment and fear rose in my chest. I refuse to be “the wife of.” I won’t.
“That’s my girl.” He smiled contentedly. “Now, come over here.” He pulled me close to him and then climbed on top of me. John likes to be the one to look down.
One day, I thought, one day soon. This will all be over.
36 KERRIE
I was roused at seven this morning, first by the trill of my cell phone, and then to instant vigilance by the crash of Sara’s deafening voice through the receiver. She explained swiftly and at the top of her vocal register that a contact at one of the biggest banks in Grand Cayman—someone with whom she’d worked closely throughout her years at The Wall Street Journal, someone who owed her a big favor—had given her a list of all the shell corporations that held accounts at the bank. And that after sifting through pages and pages of names, she eventually came upon one that stood out. Camp David.
“This could be it!” she shouted. “This is no coincidence. I’ll let you know what else I find.”
“Great,” I said, as enthusiastically as I cou
ld. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her revelation, but I didn’t tell her that.
Tatiana’s final fitting is this afternoon—precisely seventy-two hours before The Wedding of the Century. Since Jordana returned from Connecticut, we’ve been dousing fires left and right, some that I kindled myself, and others that ignited from the sheer volatility of Caroline’s fluctuating whims. Miraculously, I haven’t been held accountable for one misstep.
The phone rang for what felt like the hundredth time this morning.
“Jordana Pierson Wedding Concierge,” I answered as naturally as I breathe. “I’m sorry, but the bride and groom have elected not to be interviewed by the media,” I told the woman calling from News 12. It’s our blanket statement to every writer, reporter, producer, blogger, and journalist of any kind. Tatiana and William are not talking.
Trust me when I say that the lead-up to a wedding of this magnitude is a healthy dose of adrenaline you can’t spoil. Beyond the details inherent in such an elaborate affair, when the Doonans and Blunts are the key players, there are also issues of press and privacy to consider. Every outlet from Vanity Fair to the New York Post is vying for a slice of socialite pie.
“What is this about, then?” Jordana looked up from her computer with a questioning expression. “I see. I’ll have to see if she’s available. Give me a minute.” I put the woman on hold and covered the receiver with my hand, just in case. “It’s Jan Marshall from News 12. She said that our building manager contacted them to say that we’re not paying rent and now they want to speak to you about a story they’re doing about rich people who think they’re invulnerable.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Sorry, I’m not.” I shook my head. “What do you want me to do?”
“Didn’t he come by to get the check?”
“Yes, and I gave it to him. I put the check right into his hand,” I lied, as the adrenaline pulsed through my veins. I did give him the envelope, but it was empty.
“Of course you did. How ridiculous. He’s just trying to screw us for five minutes of fame.” Since I’ve managed to convince Jordana that I can do no wrong, she didn’t even think to blame me.
Pretty Revenge Page 20
