Mail Order Bridesmaid

by Emilia Beaumont

  At the kitchen counter, I stopped to nibble at a croissant. The island was still scattered with the breakfast items Sarah had brought with her and in her haste to leave, left behind. I had half a mind to throw the pastries, strawberries, and pieces of melon, into the trash and let the small jug of orange juice trickle away down the drain. But my traitorous stomach growled as I passed by and I couldn’t resist taking a bite. After Sebastian had put me through my paces last night, I needed the calories.

  I popped another mouthful of the buttery pastry into my mouth and caught a glimpse of the engagement ring that was on my finger. I flexed my hand, extending my fingers, studying it some more. Then with a flash of guilt, I twirled it around so only the band was now on display, the gem hidden on the underside.

  But just having the band showing wasn’t right either. It resembled a thin wedding ring, tricking me into thinking we’d already done the deed, gone down the aisle and said our vows.

  Frustrated I took the thing off altogether and jammed it in my pocket. I didn’t want to look at it; a constant reminder of what I couldn’t have, never mind that I was thinking about getting rid of it altogether. Planning on finding the nearest pawnshop and haggling until I got a decent price.

  That would be another chunk of change that could be removed from what was owed to the care home.

  Now my hand felt awfully bare. I’d only worn it for a night but it had been mine and it had come from Sebastian.

  Swallowing the last of my breakfast and washing the sadness down with a couple of sips of juice, I froze when a chime echoed through the apartment. It sounded like the doorbell. Hesitantly I rose and padded down the short hallway toward the front door, doing my best not to make any noise. I’d just look to see who it was.

  I wasn’t sure exactly why I was so nervous, I mean at times I did feel like I didn’t belong here—and of course, there was some truth to that—but perhaps it was Sarah coming back for round two? Determined to get her man back once and for all. I wasn’t sure I could hold my own in a one-on-one confrontation, having to be careful how I spoke. Because if Sarah found out I was an imposter, that would be it.

  Game over. No more money, no more Sebastian.

  And Gran would be thrown out… we’d both end up homeless.

  The bell chimed again and there was a rap at the door. “They sent me up. I have a delivery for you!” a male voice called as if he knew I was on the other side. I let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t Sarah.

  Without thinking, or taking the time to look through the peephole, I cracked the door open, ready to accept whatever Sebastian was having delivered. Perhaps it wasn’t enough for the concierge downstairs to sign for it and it had to be handed over in person.

  A man with a round, deceptively kind face, wearing a brown baseball cap, gave me an obligatory smile and thrust a box, the size of a toaster, towards me.

  “You need to sign for it,” he said without any niceties.

  “Oh, sure, okay. Do you have a pen?” I asked, accidentally letting my fake accent slip. It was okay, I told myself, this was just some random guy, a delivery person who didn’t know Sebastian, or me, for that matter. There was no way Sebastian would find out.

  He rolled his eyes, then pointed at the top of the clipboard he’d presented, where a ballpoint Bic was tucked inside the hollow of the bulldog clip.

  “Sorry,” I replied with a wince and scribbled my name at the bottom of the slip.

  “Here, too.” He turned over the page to a second sheet. Then scooped up a bouquet of flowers I’d failed to notice from the side and handed them over.

  A wash of perfume enveloped me as I took them into my arms, no time to gush over them as I tried to balance the box, the flowers, and the clipboard.

  Promptly the delivery man took possession of the clipboard and turned to leave. Over his shoulder, he threw a mandatory, “Have a nice day,” containing no enthusiasm whatsoever. That was a man with no job satisfaction at all.

  I scooted around the door and bumped it with my rump, to get it to close while I managed the deliveries. The flowers were exquisite. An explosion of exotic color. I could almost taste their vibrancy.

  I buried my nose into the bouquet and breathed in the tropical scent. If I closed my eyes, I could almost swear that I was on a pristine sandy beach, feet in the crystal turquoise waters.

  The light purple orchids, next to the shocking pink tiger lilies, were my favorites from the whole bouquet, but together with the rest, the poppies, bearded irises infused with a peach tint, it was all so perfect. Even the clashing yellow roses seemed to fit. In fact, I couldn’t help but smile, momentarily forgetting that I was still kinda angry with Sebastian.

  “Wait!” a distant voice called from behind me. I turned and leaned back as the door almost came to a close. “Hang on a minute!”

  Advancing toward the apartment was a tall stranger, not the same guy from before. Over his suited arm, he carried at first glance a garment bag. He rushed to put his foot over the threshold to stop the door from closing.

  “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” I called out with a frown. Discarding the box and the flowers to one side I moved to grab hold of the door, to stop this man, who seemed very intent on getting inside the apartment, from entering. I pushed it as hard as I could, trapping his foot. He yelled and braced himself against the wood.

  “Shit. Just a wait a minute, I’m here to deliver this!”

  “Oh…” I said blushing, ashamed of hurting the guy but still not entirely convinced. My past experiences were urging me to be cautious. I squinted at him. “You don’t look like a delivery guy.” He followed my gaze, looking him up and down. Since when did men who looked like they belonged in a fashion shoot or a law office start moonlighting as delivery men?

  “Well, I’m not. But this week I have no other choice,” he said and didn’t elaborate any further. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just in a rush.”

  “Erm, okay then?”

  “Are you not going to let me in?”

  “Why would I? I don’t know you.”

  “Oh, I thought Sebastian would’ve told you. My bad, I’m Gerard,” he said with a warm smile. “I should’ve known he would forget.”

  “Forgot what exactly?”

  “That I was delivering the dress today.” Gerard paused, his eyes going wide with concern, “You know, for the wedding? I presume it’s for you? You must be Anna?”

  “Oh! Right, of course!” I replied, my stomach doing somersaults as the meaning dawned on me. Sebastian wasn’t kidding when he said wanted a bride… a ring and now a wedding dress? He wasn’t leaving anything to chance, not even letting his bride chose her own gown.

  But I didn’t have time to be angry let alone question his motives not when I’d just realized that for the last few minutes of this encounter I’d been talking in my normal, everyday American accent. I locked my lips together as if that could rewind or erase what had been said. Silently I cursed myself for being so careless. That damn delivery guy from before had thrown me off, and I’d foolishly let my guard down.

  There was no turning back now. I just had to hope that Gerard and Sebastian weren’t firm friends and that this wouldn’t get back to him.

  Gerard held up the garment bag, his finger hooked under the metal loop. “Here you go, it should fit like I glove… in theory,” Gerard said, adding the last bit under his breath.

  “What do you mean?” I said as I took possession of the bag. The thing wasn’t light as I expected it to be and I turned to find a place to hang it up.

  Gerard followed me inside. “Well, it was specially made. Sebastian didn’t tell you that either, did he?”

  I shook my head, glancing at him as I finally managed to find a spot to hang the dress, cleverly utilizing a curtain rod, as I digested all this new information. I was being battered with realizations. I’d completely forgotten about Sebastian mentioning in his online ad needing a bride that had certain, specific measurements. It had been
odd of course, but since I was the size he was looking for and I was desperate to get back home, I paid it no mind. Oh, Anna, what have you gotten yourself into? I scolded myself.

  “Of course not, trust him to forget. Why don’t you take a look, see what you think,” he said nodding to the covered dress. Gerard’s dark, handsome face broke out into an eager, encouraging smile.

  My eyes drifted back to the dress, hand reaching for the zipper. Was Gerard the creator of the dress, I wondered? The designer? I didn’t want to come right out and ask, in case I was wrong and offended him. But I indulged the man anyway. Perhaps he just wanted to see my reaction. “Sure, why not?”

  Swiftly I unzipped the bag and peeled back the protective layer.

  My foot faltered as I stood back, amazed at the design. This was no ordinary wedding gown. My hand went to my chest as I felt my breath leave me. The golden tones of the ensemble paired with my coloring would have me feeling and looking like a princess. And for an indulgent second I imagined myself wearing the dress, the sweetheart neckline and twinkling fabric billowing around my legs, as I walked down the aisle, Sebastian waiting for me.

  “By the look on your face, I would think that you are pleased?”

  “It’s gorgeous,” I managed to say thickly, feeling like my heart had swelled to twice its size, unable to fit in my chest. Overcome, I wrapped my arms around Gerard, surprised at the tears that trickled down my cheeks. “Thank you.”

  “Whoa, I certainly hope those are happy tears?” Gerard questioned as hugged me back.

  I quickly let go of the stranger I’d only just met—I really had to stop doing that—embarrassed, and fluttered my hands to dry my cheeks. “Sorry, it’s just so beautiful.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you like it, you’re gonna knock Baz dead. Oh and here don’t forget the shoes.” I put the box down still eyes on the dress. Gerard coughed then lifted his arm, shucking back his jacket sleeve. “Well, I better be off. More deliveries to make. No rest for the wicked,” he said with a roll of his eyes and an amused chuckle. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

  “You will? I mean… huh?”

  “The wedding, silly. It’s on Saturday.”

  My mouth gaped but Gerard was already leaving, halfway across the room.

  “Bye,” he called.

  “Bye,” I whispered back. Stunned.

  A couple of days?

  Was the wedding that soon?

  I sank to the nearest chair, not trusting my legs to keep me standing. Holy shit.

  But what else could I have expected? He’d flown me to America with barely a chat, proposed on the very first night, and we’d leaped into bed without thinking anything of it. I should have known that he was not one to wait by now. He’d already ordered the dress before he’d even met me. Was it so far-fetched to believe he’d also arranged a whole wedding too?

  This was surely going too far? There was no way I could stay now, not when the timetable had been moved up so much. I was expecting that he give me some time to get acquainted here, with him, with my supposed new country… to make sure it was a right fit. And selfishly so I could keep on receiving those weekly allowance checks he’d promised.

  But Sebastian obviously had other plans.

  So did I. I couldn’t forget that.

  Pushing the swirl of guilt that warmed my stomach away, I tilted my head, staring at the gown before me, and wondered how much I could get for it on eBay, or if pawnshops even accepted wedding dresses.

  There was only one way to find out.

  Thirteen

  Sebastian

  “Did she like the ring?” Josephine asked, her eyes crinkling, an expectant, giddy look on her face, as she delivered the coffee I’d been gasping for, but hadn’t actually requested.

  “How did you know I got her—never mind,” I answered questioning her, but then shook my head. She seemed to know exactly what I was thinking or what I needed, always one step ahead, when I came to think of it.

  I had to admit that perhaps Josephine wasn’t such a bad secretary after all, once I gave her a chance to prove herself and stopped looking for faults.

  She smirked. “Well? Did she?”

  I rolled my eyes. “She might have.”

  “That’s totally a yes. I still can’t believe you’re doing this. You barely know the girl and… did you get down on one knee?”

  “It was your idea!” The phone on my desk rang and I looked up at her, lacing my fingers together. “You going to get that?”

  Josephine sighed and snatched up the receiver, delivering the office’s standard greeting. After a few nods, she handed me the phone. “It’s your driver, wouldn’t tell me what it was about.”

  “My driver?” I repeated, my brows puckering. Jo shrugged. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mr. Sebastian, it’s Big Jim. Sorry to bother you at work but, well, I thought this might be important.”

  “Oh, hi,” I replied utterly confused as to why Big Jim would feel the need to call me. I only used his service occasionally, for trips out of town, special dates, or to the airport, and always the bookings went through Josephine. “What can I help you with?”

  “I don’t know exactly how to say this, so I’m just gonna spit it right out. Remember the young woman you had me pick up from the airport?”

  “Sure, I do. I was there with you.”

  “Right, well I just wanted to run it by you really, but I will be getting paid for the additional trips that have been made, right? I’ve not received anything from your office.”

  “You probably should talk to my secretary about this. She’ll have all the records… wait,” I said, the cogs of my mind spinning, “what extra trips?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’ve just dropped Anna off—I think that’s her name, I remember it ‘cause you had me write it down—”

  “Dropped her off where? You mean now?”

  “Yes, right now. About twenty minutes out of the city, in a ramshackle of a town if you ask me. Second time she’s had me drive out here.”

  “Are you sure it’s the same woman?” I asked unable to process what he was telling me. Why on earth would Anna be taking trips out of the city and using Big Jim to do it?

  “Positive. She has an accent, Russian I think, though if you ask me it sounds—”

  “Tell me exactly where you are,” I said interrupting him, grabbing the fountain pen on my desk and pulling over a bit of notepaper.

  Big Jim relayed the information and I read it back to him making sure I had it right. What on earth was she doing all the way out there?

  “I went inside the bar she had me wait at, but she wasn’t there. I think she ducked out. Gave me the slip. What do you want me to do?” Big Jim asked, a worried quaver coming down the line.

  “Just keep doing what you have been doing. And don’t worry about the money—I’ll make sure you get paid. But let me know immediately if she takes any more trips. And next time follow her. I want to know precisely where she goes.”

  “Will do.” Big Jim ended the call and I stared up at a quizzical Josephine.

  “What was all that about?”

  “Hell if I know. But I’m starting to think there’s more to Anna than she’s letting on.”

  Josephine’s eyes darted away, unable to hold my gaze. Did she know something? What wasn’t she telling me?

  “Jo, do you know something?”

  “Me? Why would I know something? I haven’t even met the girl. Better get back to work, or the boss will tan my hide,” she said, forcing out a chuckle. Quickly Josephine left my office, closing the door behind her.

  I sat for a moment, dwelling on what Big Jim had told me. I tried to run the information through my mind, inputting all the data like they were part of some mathematical formula, hoping to glean some answers. All I could come up with were errors and dead ends.

  There was something not quite right… and what had Big Jim said about her accent? I couldn’t remember.


  I grabbed my cell and searched for the new entry I’d only hours before tapped in. Earlier I’d had Josephine acquire, set up, and courier over a brand new phone for Anna’s use and wondered if she’d received it yet. A quick glance at my watch told me she should have. That along with the flowers.

  Holding the cell to my ear I listened to the trilling, wondering if she would pick up. Did she dare? I needed some kind of explanation. What was she hiding?

  “Hallo?” came her voice, just as I remembered it.

  “Anna, it’s Sebastian. Just checking in, wondered if you got the flowers?” I said changing tact at the last moment. I couldn’t very well come out and ask her what she was doing out of the city. At least not over the phone, I still needed her after all. In more than one way, too.

  “Oh, yes. Very beautiful. Thank you,” she added curtly as if she would rather be doing anything else than speaking to me on the phone right then. In the background a loud horn screeched, and there was the distinct sound of traffic and everyday street commotion.

  “Anna, where are you?” I asked gently, careful not to arouse her suspicion.

  “Er…” I heard her breathing, the seconds passing as I imagined her trying to come up with an answer. Was she back in the car with Big Jim? “What?”

  I narrowed my eyes, was she pretending not to have heard my question? But before I could ask it again, she responded quickly in Russian. I couldn’t make head nor tail of it, except… it hadn’t really sounded like her. Feminine, yet deeper. But perhaps that was how she sounded in full flow of her natural language.

  “Sorry, I didn’t understand a word of that,” I said when the line when silent again.

  “Must go,” she abruptly replied then the call died.

  I held the phone away from my ear and simply stared at it, my mouth agape. What the fuck just happened?

  Fourteen

  Anna

  Oh shit.