Mimi Plus Two (The Mimi Chronicles Book 2)

by Whitney Dineen

  Renée and Laurent turned half of their home into Renée’s design studio and showroom for her exclusive clients and they still have more square feet to live in than a Romanian village. The grand French doors leading to her studio are opened by none other than Elliot’s mother. I’m not sure why she’s here but I couldn’t be more delighted to have her witness my boorish manners, not.

  With one eyebrow arched to the heavens and looking down the entire length of her nose at me, she inquires, “Mimi, are you unwell?”

  I sheepish reply, “Yes, I’m not at all well. Is my sister in?”

  Cue Renée. She glides in behind the countess and smiles beatifically, “Mimi, I didn’t know Victoria was Elliot’s mother! I’m not sure why I didn’t put two and two together but I never did.”

  What in the world? “How do you know, um, er, Vic… rather, the countess?”

  My sister responds, “I made her dress for Kate and Wills wedding.” Of course she did.

  Victoria intercedes, “Your sister is a genius, Mimi. I’m quite impressed by her.” Well thank God she’s impressed by someone in my family because Lord knows it’s not me.

  Just then Ginger yells out, “Meems, come on in. You have to see these dresses.” It turns out I’m crashing quite the get-together.

  When I walk into what used to be the grand ballroom, I see Ginger reclining on a chaise lounge looking a bit peeked. “Ginger, are you okay?”

  She smiles, “I guess the exhaustion is just catching up with me. Wait until you see the bridesmaid dresses.”

  Muffy sneaks in like a stealth bank robber hugging the back wall while I shoot daggers into Renée with my eyes. “Yes, I’d like to see the dresses, Renée. I hear you’ve taken my suggestions to heart.”

  Not in the least worried, my sister waves a hand at me and announces, “Oh pish posh. Just relax and be prepared to be amazed.” She has her little worker bees, LeRon and Fernando close the blinds and light about a million candles before they push in two mannequins sporting the infamous dresses.

  I’m getting more and more agitated with every flick of the lighter that passes until I see the final product. Dammit, I hate to be full of righteous indignation for nothing. The dresses are perhaps the most gorgeous things I’ve ever seen. They’re a golden yellow and silvery dove gray floral pattern with a taupe and cream background. The material is a whimsical and fluttering silk and they have about a billion Swarovski crystal bugle beads sewn into the pattern that makes them appear to catch fire in the candle light. Holy crap, they’re stunning!

  I open my mouth to speak, then close it. Open and close, until I finally concede, “Wow! Maybe I should have been the designer. Who knew I could pick such an amazing color combination?”

  Elliot’s mothers interjects, “They’re perfect for a fall wedding, very reminiscent of the changing hues of the foliage. You can positively feel the cool autumnal breeze as they flutter in motion.” My God, she can’t put two words together to say something nice to me but she’s composed a full on sonnet to Renée’s design capabilities.

  Before I can say anything else, Fernando rolls in the mannequin wearing the bridal gown. Sweet Jesus, it’s the most amazing creation ever! It’s a strapless ball gown with a shimmering golden infused ivory, raw silk, crisscross bodice. The skirt is made up of layers of tulle over the same silk. And at the waist there are ivory silk sculpted flowers in a variety of sizes with golden crystals in the center. The gown is cathedral length and the veil is the simplest and sheerest layer of superfine English silk tulle ever spun. I express my only concern, “Renée, the gown is exquisite. There’s just one problem.”

  My sister looks momentarily alarmed and asks, “What?”

  “It’s tiny. It has to be at least two sizes too small for me.”

  Renée laughs out loud, “Oh Meems, don’t be ridiculous. I made it from the measurements I took off you last week.”

  What? How can that be? So I demand she help me try it on and low and behold, she’s right. With my freshly retouched red hair, I look like the goddess of fall herself. I’m mute in awe of her talent and completely overwhelmed by how beautiful she’s made me. Even Victoria can’t pass up the opportunity to comment, “My word,” she declares, “you look quite stunning, Mimi.” I wish I had a tape recording of that. I’m sure there will be many occasions in the future where I will yearn for a compliment from that one.

  Chapter 5

  Two days before the wedding, our out-of-town guests begin to appear. Elliot has several friends and family members arriving from England today and I have an impressive number travelling to witness our union, as well.

  While sitting on my mom’s couch soaking Edith Bunker in a hot Epsom salt bath (apparently my bunion is making a return as she does not approve of the shoes I’ve been wearing this week), I ask what the plans are to entertain the troops.

  My mom informs me she’s made reservations for every meal leading up to and including the rehearsal dinner at various restaurants in town. She’s decided eating out will be the lowest stress option for all. I couldn’t agree more.

  The doorbell rings just as I’m about to doze off for a mid-morning refresher. My mom answers it and I hear her say, “Yes, yes this is the correct address.” And, “My word, really? Good heavens, come right in!” A delivery man, attired in what looks like an admiral’s uniform enters carrying a magnificently wrapped wedding gift. My mother ushers him to the dining room, where he gently lays the gift on the table. Then she escorts him to the living room where I’m still soaking my bump. He bows before me and enquires, “Miss Finnegan?”

  I mumble an affirmation as he hands me an envelope that must be at least five thousand pound card stock. Seriously, it’s lush. I don’t know much about elegant stationary but I assume this is the most expensive in existence. In an ornate calligraphy, it is addressed to Sir and Lady Elliot Fielding, KCVO. What in the hell? I thank the gentleman nicely and my mom shows him to the door. Sir and Lady Fielding? I pick up my phone to call Elliot. When he answers, I don’t bother with niceties, I just demand, “You’re a knight of the realm?”

  I can actually hear him smiling into the phone, “Good morning, my love. How’s Edith doing?”

  “Don’t you change the subject, just answer my question.”

  He clears his throat and replies, “Yes, dear. I was knighted by the queen five years ago.”

  “Why?” I demand.

  Elliot laughs, “For being such a stellar British citizen, I assume. How did you find out? Did you finally decide to Google me?” Note to self: Google Elliot and find out what I’m really getting into.

  “Noooooooooooooo, we just received the most extraordinary wedding gift addressed to Sir and Lady Elliot Fielding. Any idea who it’s from?”

  He asks, “Was it delivered in a postal box or simply gift wrapped?” I reply the latter. “Ah,” he continues, “my guess is that it’s from the queen.”

  “WHAT?” I swear I scream loud enough to be heard in the next county. “The Queen of England sent us a wedding gift?”

  “I assume so, yes. Did you open it?”

  I choke, “No, I haven’t opened it. I mean, shouldn’t I wait for you?”

  Elliot chuckles, “I’ll be right over.” Then he warns, “I have Mother with me.”

  Oh great. I immediately remove Edith from her foot bath and put my sock and shoe back on, all the while babbling to my mom, “You’re about to meet Elliot’s mother. We’ve got to tidy up. The Queen of fricking England, can you believe it?” I just prattle on while running around like a chicken with my head cut off until the doorbell rings.

  My mom answers it while I take a second to gather my composure. I hear her greet, “Elliot, come in. This must be your lovely mother.”

  I cringe to think how Victoria will respond, when I hear her reply, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Maureen.” Just so we’re clear, it appears the countess has decided to like every member of my family but me, which truthfully just stinks.

  I hobble in an
d immediately go to Elliot’s side. I feel safe there. He kisses me and explains, “Mother and I were out doing a little shopping when you called.”

  My mom pipes in with, “I hope you took her to the Hob Nob. They have the most wonderful little trinkets.”

  Elliot’s mother smiles, “Yes, I do believe we poked around there.” I’m full on dying. The Hob Nob is probably the most exclusive shop in Pipsy but I’m sure it’s nothing like the shopping Victoria’s used to. Of course I should thank my lucky stars he didn’t take her to Walmart.

  I lead the way into the living room and show Elliot the gift. It is wrapped in a thick, dulled metallic pattern that looks like vintage wallpaper. The bow is probably a higher quality fabric than Renée uses in her designs. Then I hand him the envelope. He peruses the front before opening the back flap when his mother grabs it out of his hand, “Let me, darling.”

  I want to snatch it back and remind her who it’s addressed to but I catch myself in time. The countess reads out loud for everyone’s benefit, “Dearest Elliot and Mimi, We are sorry not to be able to attend your nuptials but offer you our most sincere congratulations. Elizabeth R and Prince Phillip, Duke of Edinburgh.”

  My mother trills, “How exciting! Hurry up and open the gift, I’m dying to see what they sent!”

  Victoria hands me the card followed by a gift of her own. I thank her effusively, as I’m astonished she’s bought me anything, when she orders, “Open mine first.” I unwrap the small parcel to find that she has gifted me with my very own copy of Debrett’s Guide to Modern Manners. She explains, “You will need this in order to send the proper thank you notes to our side.”

  What I want to say is, “Thanks, bitch. Can’t you just let me enjoy the moment?” Instead I manage, “How perfectly wonderful. I’m sure it will come in handy.” Then I proceed to unwrap the queen’s gift. I do this as though the package is full of plutonium. I’m painstaking careful with the paper, not because I’m going to reuse it, but because I’m going to have it mounted in a museum quality frame and pass it down through generations of my own family. You think I’m kidding?

  When I take the lid off the box I’m greeted with another box. It’s a simple and very handsome mahogany. I lift it out and open the lid. Nestled inside are eight sterling silver tongs and eight tiny forks. Elliot lets out a delighted burst of laughter. I’m confused.

  The countess enlightens us, “When Elliot was a boy he was playing with the young princes, who were a good deal older than he was. They took Elliot out to the gardens to collect supper. Elliot thought they were going to pick vegetables but they wound up gathering a bucket full of snails. And wouldn’t you know it, the queen ordered escargot to be served that night.” Hahahahahhahaha. What’s so funny about that?

  Elliot explained, “We peeled them off the side of the spring house, slime trails and all. It was utterly nauseating. Of course I didn’t know that you don’t eat garden snails. Then snails were served for dinner and through the entire meal, Edward taunted me with images of mucus slithering down the wall. It was horrid. I haven’t eaten them since.”

  I have never eaten snails, nor do I have any intention of doing so. As such, this gift smacks of an incredibly expensive joke. As soon as Elliot and his mother leave I get right onto Google and price sterling silver snail paraphernalia. Here’s what I find. The English Royals spent several thousand dollars on a gift that we will in fact, never use.

  Chapter 6

  Tonight we are entertaining our out of town guests at a new Italian restaurant called Il Bucco. The smells drive me wild with desire. Elliot is picking up his parents from the hotel so I arrive alone. The first person I see is one of the most dashing and wonderful men to ever enter my life. His name is Richard Bingham. I met Richard when Elliot and I travelled to New York together on business. Elliot was still seeing Beatrice at the time, and Richard nearly swept me off my feet and right out of Elliot’s arms. Elliot and Richard do not get along and see one another as competitors for my affections. Even though Richard conceded my heart to Elliot, my future husband is still a bit prickly that I demanded Richard be included in the wedding party.

  I throw my arms around my friend and declare, “Richard, you’re here!” I just hug and hug him, then announce, “I see you didn’t use your plus one on the wedding invitation.”

  With his arm around my shoulder, he declares, “I told you I was leaving you in charge of finding your replacement and I’m holding you to it.” Then he laughingly adds, “I suppose once you find my bride for me, I’ll have to send your invitation to Mimi, plus two.”

  Richard doesn’t know what he’s in for. I’ve personally selected three women who I feel will fit the bill very nicely and all three are coming to the wedding. I lead my friend into the dining room and introduce him to my family. He knows Muffy and Kevin from their visit to New York but hasn’t met the rest of the crew yet. I leave him in my brother-in-law, Laurent’s, capable hands when I see Elliot arrive. He’s with his parents, Beatrice and a very frightened looking man hanging onto Beatrice’s arm. I assume he’s the new boyfriend.

  I greet Beatrice with a warm hug and declare, “You look wonderful!” The truth is she does. Even with the breast cancer back, it’s apparent she’s deliriously happy. Beatrice and I had a rough start. When I met her, she was about to become engaged to Elliot. Elliot loves Beatrice as a friend and when she announced she was sick again, he asked her to marry him. She said yes, which is why I almost wound up with Richard. But she backed out of the engagement when Kevin told her about Elliot and me. I went from hating her, to pitying her, to loving her at a breakneck speed.

  Kevin spies Beatrice and comes over to meet her boyfriend and pull her into the party. Elliot is busy ordering drinks for his parents and I take a moment to stand back and enjoy the contentment I feel in my life. I am a thirty-five year old woman who just months ago was alone and suffering from the mother of all identity crisis. And now I’m deliriously happy, pregnant with my first child and about to marry the man of my dreams. How could life be any sweeter?

  Victoria sidles up to me and announces, “Doesn’t Beatrice look lovely tonight?” Ah, yes, life could be better if Victoria pulled the stick out of her butt and accepted me, but there you have it. I decide to ignore her attempt at an argument and agree. “She looks wonderful! Clive must be making her very happy.” Then I wink.

  The countess looks alarmed that I may have just insinuated Beatrice and Clive are spending all of their time doing the horizontal mambo and excuses herself posthaste. Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya, Your Highness.

  I meet several of Elliot’s friends from London, who all appear to be delighted to be attending our wedding. Elliot peels off to entertain his troops while I do the same with mine.

  After a dinner of heavenly pasta dishes and my favorite eggplant Parmesan, it’s time for a wicked tiramisu. I’m savoring every single bite when I notice a very odd character walk in. She’s tallish and thin and what’s the word, meek? Perhaps not so much meek as frightened looking. I don’t recognize her so I nudge Elliot’s arm. He immediately follows my gaze and jumps up to welcome her. They hug hello then Elliot leads her over to me. With his arm around her waist, he introduces, “Mimi, I’d like you to meet my sister, Philippa.”

  Philippa smiles shyly and holds her hand out to shake mine. In a whisper of a voice, she utters, “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance, Mimi.”

  I want to devour her in a bear hug. How nice that someone in Elliot’s family is delighted to meet me. Philippa is nothing of what I expected Elliot’s sister to look like. I anticipated her to resemble a mini-version of Victoria, all hoity toity and snooty. She’s a wonderful surprise.

  I ask her to sit down next to me and demand that Elliot get the waitress to bring his sister some food. “You must be starved!” I declare.

  She merely shrugs her shoulders, “I suppose I’m a bit peckish. It was a long flight.”

  “I wish we knew when you were arriving
. We would have been happy to pick you up.”

  Philippa looks alarmed and replies, “Please don’t worry. Father sent a car for me.”

  As if he heard her say his name, the earl stands up and walks over to his daughter. When he reaches her, he actually embraces her. No standoffish weirdness I would have expected, based on his previous stuck up demeanor. He holds her close and says, “Pip, I’m so glad you’re here. How are you feeling?”

  That’s when I wonder if maybe she isn’t meek as much as sickly. Poor thing, she doesn’t appear to be very vibrant. She answers, “I’m fine, Father. How are you and Mother? Did you have a nice flight?”

  He assures her they did when Victoria arrives. She takes her daughter’s hand and commands, “Come, sit with me, darling. We’ll get some food into you right away.” I try to assure the countess that Elliot is already working on it but she ignores me and pulls her daughter away.

  When Elliot arrives back, he inquires as to the whereabouts of his sister. I tell him his parents have rescued her from my wicked company and he quirks his eyebrow in response. “Not that again. Mimi, give them time. They’ll learn to love you as much as I do.”

  I ignore him and ask, “Is Philippa sick, Elliot?”

  “No,” he answers. “She’s just a bit frail. She has been ever since she had rheumatic fever as a young girl. She nearly died from it.”

  “She’s okay now though, right?”

  Elliot shrugs, “Medically speaking, yes.” Before I have a chance to ask him what he means by that, he’s up and bidding some friends good night. Hmmm, if she’s okay medically, what could possibly be wrong with her?

  Chapter 7

  Against all odds it’s my wedding day and I’m feeling great. I’m fit as a fiddle, in fine form and ready to boogy. I’m full on down with my bad self and only moderately worried my dress might be a bit snug after my week of binge eating. Elliot is getting ready at my house and I’m at Renée’s with the girls. We’re having manicures, pedicures and massages, a gift from my incredibly thoughtful husband-to-be. We have three full hours for these indulgences until the hair and makeup people arrive.