Page 75 of Heartless
A few days later, I walked out of The Gem and got into the car Annie Foster had sent for me. I liked the Hollywood treatment I was getting. It was a pleasant distraction from everything that happened on Christmas and since then.
“We’re going to get Miss Foster now,” the driver informed me, and we drove off.
Forty minutes later, we arrived at the gates of an enormous mansion. We drove in and waited for twenty more minutes for Annie to get out of the house. When she finally did, she looked awful.
“I have the worst hangover in my entire life,” she greeted me. “We had a wrap party last night and I only got five hours of sleep. My head is killing me.”
“We could reschedule,” I offered. “You’re Annie Foster. I’m sure she would welcome you whenever.”
“True, but I’m trying not to act like the spoiled actress cliché, you know.”
I smiled. “Great. So we’re doing this.” I rubbed my hands together. “That’s my favorite part of planning a wedding.”
“Dealing with confused half-drunk brides?”
“You’re my first. It’s usually a drunk groom. I meant finding The Dress.”
I let her rest on the drive to the designer’s atelier. We arrived forty-five minutes later than we were supposed to. Two glasses of champagne waited for us. I glanced at ill-looking Annie when she took her glass. She shrugged and downed it in one go. “You know what people say? It helps with the hangover.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“What’s the worst thing that could happen?” She asked with a smile.
An hour later I had the answer to that question. Annie got drunk all over again, only prolonging her misery, while the designer and I helped her try on different types of dresses. But the future bride had a hard time standing up without swaying and I had the feeling she was looking at her image in the mirror but her mind wasn’t there at all.
“Maybe we should reschedule,” I said to both of them. The designer nodded eagerly, probably scared to take any request Annie made in her state of mind seriously.
“Lighten up, you two,” Annie giggled. “I’m not as drunk as you think I am,” then she plopped down on a couch, the gown she was wearing covering the entire thing on both sides.
I leaned closer to the designer. “Can we do this again when she’s feeling better?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. Let’s get her out of the dress.”
“Do you ever get tempted to try on a wedding gown, Maddie?” Drunk Annie asked while we undressed her.
“No,” I shook my head with a smile.
“Seriously?” She looked at me from head to toe. “You love fashion. I can tell.”
“I do. I'm just...,” I paused, looking for the right words. Being a wedding planner and admitting to one of your brides you weren't actually the marrying type, would be weird. “As much as I love fashion, this is all about the bride. I'm here for support and prevention.”
“Support and prevention?” Annie asked amused.
“Yes. My job is to support all the good decisions you make and prevent you from marrying in something that would make you burn your wedding photos two years from now.”
The designer shot me an unamused glare while Annie giggled. “I like you, Maddie. I really do. And in a true diva moment, I will insist on you trying on a wedding dress. Now. Pick one.”
“No.”
“You can’t say no,” Annie whined and I shook my head again. “I’ll pick one then.”
“I thought you didn’t want to act like a diva.”
“Sometimes it’s too tempting. Pick one or I will.” She strolled through the atelier in her underwear, walking between the mannequins and stopped in front of a ballgown. “This one.”
The dress was a vision in pure white satin, with a full skirt that billowed out like a cloud. The bodice was covered in lace and delicate beading, shimmering in the light. The long sleeves glimmered with intricate details, and a long train flowed behind, adorned with small pearls and crystals. It was fit for a fairy tale wedding. Just like something a princess would wear.
I had never worn something like that before, so I shrugged. “You know what? Maybe just this one.”
