Dress Rehearsal

by Jennifer O'Connell

  After the publicist quieted the reporters, Bradley made a brief pitch about Pegasus Publishing and its commitment to quality before introducing Vivian.

  “Thank you, Bradley. We’re here today because Pegasus Publishing is excited to announce that Lauren Gallagher, owner of Lauren’s Luscious Licks and pasty chef extraordinaire, will be partnering with us on her first book. Lauren Gallagher revolutionized the way we all look at wedding cakes when she opened her cake boutique right here on Newbury Street. She built Lauren’s Luscious Licks one cake at a time and today is recognized for her exquisite cake creations, her craftsmanship and her unwavering dedication to her craft.”

  Vivian paused, and for a minute I almost expected Maria to burst into the room and put a stop to this entire charade. But while I was seated beside the podium receiving praise for my baking talents, Maria was in the kitchen baking.

  “As I’m sure everyone here knows, Lauren Gallagher’s clients read like a who’s who of Boston society, from political leaders to business titans. In her yet untitled book, Lauren Gallagher will give readers a behind the scenes look at a preeminent pastry chef’s secrets.”

  Vivian turned to me and smiled. “It is my pleasure to introduce to you today, our very own, Lauren Gallagher.”

  A polite round of applause welled up and then faded as I took my place at the podium for questions. As I stood there calling on the raised hands, the publicist shot me a thumbs up from the back of the room. After a rocky start that included a poor wardrobe choice, bloodshot eyes and the guest of honor dry heaving into the kitchen toilet as I attempted to put on my lipstick, it was all going according to plan.

  Chapter 22

  While I was busy dazzling the press with my extensive knowledge of wedding confections, Robin was being deposed in a law firm’s conference room downtown, and Paige was one day into my match making experiment. We decided to meet for breakfast early Saturday morning to rehash the events of the last twenty four hours.

  “We went out for Thai food after we left you and Charlie at Julio’s,” Paige told us. “It was good.”

  “The food or the date?” Robin asked, but Paige was too busy finishing her tomato juice to answer.

  I decided to assume she meant the date, which put me that much closer to a blockbuster book.

  “Hugh sounds great. I wish I got to meet him.” Robin added some positive reinforcement before spreading a dollop of cream cheese on her bagel. “Are you going to see him again?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “I promise I’ll be there next time. Believe me, given the choice I would take margaritas with you guys over a meeting with my lawyer any day. You would not believe all the crap he wanted to go over before the deposition on Friday. My God, it was like I was being prepared for a public stoning.”

  “So how was the deposition?”

  Robin cringed. “Can’t you see the rock marks? They made me sound like a bitter, angry control freak.”

  Robin paused for a minute and waited for one of us to assure her she wasn’t either of those things, but our mouths were full so instead we shook our heads reassuringly.

  “Afterward Jeremy came running up to me in the hall, saying how sorry he was or some other bullshit before his brother-in-law pulled him away. Man, I was fucked.”

  Paige smirked. “You’re not the only one.”

  Robin’s eyes shot to Paige, who shook her head and pointed to me.

  “Oh my god, you slept with Charlie?” Robin practically gasped, leaving me to believe that she and Paige had probably decided I’d given up on sex all together.

  “I had to, he beat me at backgammon.”

  “You wagered with sex?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Sounds like you were the real winner. So was it something you’d like to do again?”

  I looked up, straightfaced. “The backgammon or the sex?”

  Robin laughed. “Wow, I’m impressed. Indiscriminate sex on a Thursday night wasn’t exactly what I was expecting to hear about with my morning coffee.”

  “You also realize, of course, that you’ll probably never hear from him again. You should have waited until the fourth date,” Paige suggested. I didn’t bother pointing out that she’d slept with Steve before they even returned from Key West.

  “Come on, what’s the big deal? It’s not like she’s going to marry him, right?” Robin defended me and at the same time managed to hit a nerve that had felt exposed since I left Charlie’s apartment Friday morning.

  “I’ll have you know that he called yesterday, a mere six hours after I left his apartment. But I’m not sure if I’m going to keep seeing him.”

  Robin threw up her arms. “Wait a minute, you found someone you like, who is intelligent and fun and apparently good in bed, and you want to stop seeing him?” Robin turned to Paige. “Did I miss something here?”

  Paige shrugged. “I’m lost. What’s up?”

  I took a bite of my bagel to avoid answering. What they didn’t understand, and what I didn’t tell them, was that there was no recipe for a relationship with Charlie, no way to know how it would turn out. And even though I’d left it blank, I was beginning to figure out what line number one on my list should have been. Numbers two through ten didn’t mean a thing if the man I described didn’t want the same ending I’d been waiting for.

  In the silence, Robin’s expression turned from confusion to understanding. “I think I get it. Is this because he told you he doesn’t want to get married?”

  “Or because Neil does?” Paige asked.

  “Why are you worried about getting married all of a sudden?”

  “I’m not worried.”

  Robin looked around for our waiter and signaled for the check. “Then keep sleeping with him.”

  Sure, just continue sleeping with Charlie. Have mind blowing sex. Keep dating. Become his girlfriend. Fall in love. Spend holidays together and exchange thoughtful gifts. It sounded easy enough.

  Paige placed a five dollar bill on the table. “I’ve got to get to the office. I made an offer on the house near Cleveland Circle and they’re supposed to get back to me today.”

  My bagel stuck in my throat as I envisioned the ants industriously building their fortress on Paige’s kitchen counter. “Please tell me you’re not buying that hell hole.”

  “Oh yes I am,” Paige replied emphatically, and then turned to Robin. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. The place is great.”

  “Better you than me.” I took one more bite of my bagel and offered to walk with her on my way to the boutique. “Are you coming?” I asked Robin.

  “I think I’ll finish my juice and then head off to Baby Gap to do a little pre-insemination browsing. You ladies enjoy yourselves.”

  Pre-insemination shopping. I doubt Baby Gap had a gift card for that.

  Paige and I collected our coats and were about to leave the table when Paige ducked back down into her seat.

  “Don’t look now,” she instructed, barely moving her lips in an effort to remain inconspicuous.

  “What,” Robin twisted around toward the front door.

  “Did you not understand what I meant by don’t look now?” Paige hissed, but it was too late.

  “Robin can I talk to you?” Jeremy was standing next to our booth, while Denny and Mitch watched him from their spots at the lunch counter.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Robin shot back. “After what you did to me yesterday in that room? Go to hell.”

  Robin stood up, grabbed her jacket and pushed past Jeremy. But he wasn’t giving up that easily and followed her outside.

  I looked over at Denny and Mitch, who just shrugged and went back to their Western omelets.

  I tossed my money on the table and Paige and I went after them.

  After walking half a block with Jeremy on her heels, Robin stopped and whipped around to face him. “Do I need to get a restraining order to keep you away from me?” she shouted.

  “I just wanted to apologize
for yesterday. I had no idea my brother in law was going to go after you like that.”

  “What the hell did you think was going to happen? It’s a lawsuit! Did you think we’d sit down and share a few laughs over tea?”

  “I meant I didn’t know he’d attack you personally.”

  “Nice try, but too little, too late.”

  Robin stormed off, probably the angriest customer ever to walk through the doors of Baby Gap in search of pink gingham jumpers and baby blue onesies.

  Jeremy turned back toward the diner and saw us standing there, observing the scene.

  “I swear, I had no idea my brother-in-law was going to put her through that yesterday,” he explained again. “Is the entire male species destined to pay for her ex-husband’s sins?” he asked me.

  “Unless you can find someone else for her blame, I think so.”

  Paige nodded. “Your omelet’s probably getting cold, Jeremy.”

  Jeremy passed us on his way back to the diner, shaking his head at the ground as he walked. But whether Robin’s reaction pissed him off or he felt sorry for her, I really couldn’t tell.

  “Why don’t you ever mention Steve?” I asked Paige as we passed storeowners unlocking their front doors in preparation for Saturday’s shopping crowd.

  “What’s the point? It’s not going to change anything.” Paige stared straight ahead as she answered, and I had to assume that she was dealing with this the only way she could – by removing her heart from the equation and letting her head do all the thinking.

  “Has he called you?”

  Paige stopped walking and turned to me. “Let’s not do this okay? I did what everyone thought I should do. It’s over. Yes, he’s called me. Yes, he’s stopped by my apartment. Is the wedding back on? No.” She resumed her stride.

  “So what are you going to do about Charlie,” she asked, her tone returning to normal.

  “What do you think I should do?”

  “I think you should keep seeing him.”

  I felt obliged to take Paige’s advice. After all, she’d taken mine.

  Chapter 23

  On Sunday morning I laid in bed longer than I should have. The sun streaming through my bedroom window was deceiving, giving the impression that outside the dusty pane of glass a warm summer day awaited. It was one of those brilliant early Spring sunshines, the kind that reflects its rays off everything it touches and turns the windshields of cars into traveling mirrors, and the ground still wet from melted snow and the occasional shower blinds you even as you turn your face toward the sun basking in its warmth. All it took was one palm on the glass to determine that even though the sun was ready to shine, it was still April.

  My only plan for the day was a trip to the bookstore. Now that we’d announced to the world that Lauren Gallagher was going to impart her cake insight to the masses, I thought I should have some idea what other books were already telling future brides. Besides, I wanted to get my hands on the Vera Wang book Vivian seemed to revere so highly.

  After spending Saturday night alone, I thought that Paige might need some company. I rang her up to see if she wanted to meet me at Barnes and Noble for a little browsing.

  “Sounds like fun, but I can’t.” Paige spoke fast and was oddly upbeat for a Sunday morning.

  “Are you working? Because I could stop by, and if you’re not on an appointment, maybe we could grab some lunch.”

  “I’m not working. I just have plans.”

  Paige was being awfully evasive, but she sounded too happy for a woman with plans to go grocery shopping. “Are you seeing Hugh?”

  Paige hesitated. “Yeah.”

  A second date. My plan was going to work out just as I’d anticipated. Bring on the carrot cake! “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you to make a big deal out of it.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Please” I could practically hear Paige rolling her eyes. “Don’t even pretend you weren’t just thinking about carrot cake.”

  The girl just knew me too well.

  Since it looked like I was flying solo for the day, I had plenty of time to get down to the book store, and enough time to clean my apartment. I collected the supplies from under my kitchen sink and rolled up my pajama sleeves. It wasn’t like I had to clean a double sink and Whirlpool tub, so in all of seven minutes I’d managed to mop the floor and organize the clutter under my sink. While I was stooped over the bathtub scrubbing the remains of my volumizing shampoo I decided that I should partake in the fruits of my labor. I set myself up in the bathtub with a tall glass of orange juice, a bowl of strawberries and a little light reading – my college yearbook.

  I propped my elbows up on the side of the bathtub and held the book above the steaming bubbles. I turned the pages slowly, stopping when I came to one of the many pictures of Paige, a proud and smiling leader of several extracurricular activities. I flipped past a portrait of a woman I recognized from my senior Ethics class. She’d shown up one day senior year with the biggest rock I’d ever seen on her finger – at twenty two! That meant she’d probably been married almost ten years by now, assuming she was still married. Ten years since graduation and what did I have to show for it? A glass tasting table, a Lalique vase and an appointment book filled with other people’s special days.

  When I reached my senior picture, I examined the portrait closely, trying to find a clue as to what that young woman was thinking, to see the person that Neil described. I looked into my own black and white face, and what I found was a broad smile and wide eyes that seemed to be devoid of any panic about her future. I was fearless. Or maybe just young and stupid.

  There were so many unknowns ahead – moving into my own apartment, finding a job, breaking up with Neil, losing a job – and instead of being fazed by it all I remember looking forward to it. All that ambiguity that followed graduation, the uncertainty of a career, and I wasn’t fazed one bit.

  Even when I was in my studio apartment I experimented with different cakes and ingredients, throwing out about every fourth try because I’d screwed something up. But there any room for trial and error once we moved into the boutique, and now it seemed I was destined to follow recipes to the letter, every time, so I’d be assured of the outcome of every cake.

  Maybe I hadn’t been as fearless as I looked in my yearbook picture. After all, I’d come up with my first recipe during senior year, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. Although it was written on notebook paper instead of typed on an index card, I’d written down the ingredients for my perfect man.

  I removed the list from between the pages of my yearbook. The ten criteria for my perfect companion were still listed in my bubbly handwriting. They hadn’t gone anywhere and they hadn’t changed. As I held the list, water from my pruned fingertips spread across the page. I was so engrossed in my dissection of the nine sentences and the single empty line, that when the phone rang I jumped and my list fell beneath the bubbles.

  As I skimmed the bottom of the tub for the piece of paper, I reached for the portable phone I’d left on the bath mat, trying not to get suds on the receiver or drop the slippery handset into the tub and seal my fate of death by electrocution.

  “You want to grab some lunch?” Charlie asked.

  I was so surprised to hear his voice, I stopped searching for the list. “Sure, what were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t really thinking anything in particular. I’m at the office finishing up some work that’s due tomorrow. I was pretty useless on Friday, needless to say.”

  “Why don’t you meet me at the Barnes and Noble at the Prudential Center. I wanted to do a little research for the book.”

  We agreed to meet at one thirty and I resumed my search for the waterlogged paper. I finally found it settled around the drain, the writing smudged and barely discernable.

  At Barnes and Noble, I wandered the aisles until I found the wedding section, actually a combined display of wedding and etiquette books.
How ironic that the bookseller paired wedding and etiquette, but stacked the relationship books four aisles away, by psychology. I guess it was more important to know how to identify the correct fork than it was to identify the right spouse.

  Vera Wang’s timeless tome stood proudly on the top shelf, a large, elegant volume hermetically sealed in shrink wrap, as if containing secrets only a privileged few could share. I had to admit, the cover, with its misty out of focus black and white photo of a veiled bride gazing out a window, was beautiful in a timeless way, like pictures of war brides. I turned the book over and learned that Vera’s secrets didn’t come cheap – a mere sixty five dollars.

  I set Vera’s book back on the shelf and ran my fingers along the spines of the other books, which came in every shape and size and addressed every possible wedding subject.

  There were books on weddings - elegant weddings, outdoor weddings, romantic weddings, big weddings, intimate weddings, easy weddings, inexpensive weddings, and my personal favorite, instant weddings - although I was disappointed to learn that an instant wedding in fact takes four months to plan.

  There were books for all types of brides – buff brides, second brides, petite brides, modern brides, conscious brides, and frugal brides. There were also books for the men these brides were marrying, the titles of which didn’t bode very well for their future wives. The men were mostly of the foolish variety, as if the day a man slipped a diamond on a woman’s finger all common sense went out the window – the Idiots Guide to Being a Groom, the Clueless Groom’s Guide, and the Reluctant Groom. Grim.