InHap*pily Ever After (Incidental Happenstance) (50 page)

            “Let’s talk
about commitment for a minute, can we do that?”

            “Sure, why
not,” Tia said out loud, wiping two fingers on a towel and measuring in some
Worcestershire sauce.

            “Does it
really exist anymore? Do we, as a society, even care?” Dottie said. “I know
there are lots of studies out there, but the majority of them average out to
half of all marriages ending in divorce.”

            “Actually,
that’s only first marriages,” Abigail chimed in. “When you start talking about
second marriages the number jumps to over sixty-five percent, and it’s almost
seventy-five for third marriages.”

            “So, if you
don’t get it right the first time, you’re even less likely to find Mr. Right?”

            “Seems so,”
Dottie said. “Which brings me back to commitment. Do you think that a man in
power…that is, a celebrity, a politician, a wealthy business owner…is more
likely to cheat?”

            “I think a guy
like that has more temptation,” Lynne said. “Women tend to gravitate toward men
with money and power, and I personally think that they believe they’re more
likely to get away with it. Some of them even think they deserve it.”

            “Not all men
are assholes,” Tia yelled at the screen.  “I’ve got a good one!”

            “Do you think
it’s some kind of testosterone power trip or something?” Lynne offered. “Let’s
face it—you don’t see women getting busted for this sort of thing; you just
don’t hear about women keeping—what would be the male version of a mistress?”

            “I’d call it a
gigolo,” Tia said. She wiped her fingertips on a towel and read, “one
tablespoon garlic powder; salt and pepper.” She measured out the garlic powder
and sprinkled in the other spices. 

            “I think that
would be a gigolo,” Dottie said, “if she’s paying the bills.”

            “What kind of
message does this send to young people,” Abigail asked, “if these role
models—and like it or not, they are—don’t model that commitment is important;
that you have to keep your promises and work through your problems?”

            “I’ll tell you
what we need,” Lynne said, “are more Dylan Millers.”

            Tia’s ears
perked up and she turned her full attention to the screen. “Amen to that,” she
said, “Except there’s only one, and he’s all mine.”

            “I mean,
there’s a guy who went the extra mile to stay faithful to the woman he loves.”

            “I agree, but
that brings me to another point,” Abigail said. “It’s been big news not because
of their beautiful love story, but because of the betrayal by Penelope
Valentine that went along with it. If it weren’t for that, it wouldn’t even be
a story. We really need to focus more on situations like that—on men who are
worthy of admiration. I think it’s incredibly sexy that he got on the first
plane to find his lost love after he found out how he’d been played.”

            “I just think
he’s
incredibly sexy,” Lynne purred. “But you’re right. We don’t hear about the
beautiful love stories because they don’t make for ‘interesting news.’”

            “You can say
that again,” Tia said to the TV. “But I repeat; he’s all mine!”

            “I, for one,
don’t agree,” Dottie said. “In fact, I think it makes for great news!” She
looked into the camera. “We want to hear about your great love stories—put them
on our Facebook page or our website or email them to us. We’ll share some of
your stories and pictures on the air over the next couple weeks.”

            “How about we
pick some of the best ones and give them a romantic dinner or something?”

            “We can do
that! You, the audience, can vote for the winners!”

            They
high-fived each other, and went to a commercial. Tia patted the concoction into
a loaf, placed it in the pan, and put it in the oven. When the show came back
on they moved on to the plane crash, and Tia turned off the TV and fired up
another InHap album, sinking back into harmony and letting her mind wander over
how lucky she was.

When
they were in high school, and boys had really started to matter, she and Lexi
had planned their dream weddings. Lexi’s was going to be on the Fourth of July
even then, on a huge boat in the middle of Lake Michigan so she could see the
fireworks displays from all directions. She was going to have a famous band
playing the music—she couldn’t say who, because her favorites at the time
changed on an almost weekly basis—and she was going to arrive for the ceremony
on a helicopter that would lower her onto the ship as she sat on a swing, the
ropes decked out in tulle and ribbons with sparklers lit all along the skids of
the chopper.

 Tia’s
was going to be on a white sand beach in a tropical paradise. She’d arrive on a
tiny sailboat decorated with the most amazing flowers and palm fronds and
pulled by trained dolphins at sunset. She leaned back in her chair and smiled.
No trained dolphins, perhaps, but she felt incredibly lucky that she was going
to see that dream come to fruition with a man more amazing than she could have
ever dreamed.

The
details were coming together so well she could hardly believe it; and the best
part was that she and Dylan agreed on just about everything. The wedding party
was selected; they’d decided that to keep with the intimate feel, they’d each
ask two people to stand with them as they made their vows. Tia asked Lexi and
Jessa, and Dylan asked Bo and his friend Max from England. They’d finalized the
menus for all four days; opting for lots of fresh local produce and seafood,
buffet lunches so people could eat at their leisure and enjoy the amenities of
the island, a barbecue night on the beach, a surf and turf dinner, and more
formal dinners on the rehearsal and wedding nights. The guest list was nearly
final, invitations and table cards were ordered, and transportation was in the
works. Today, she’d see about the most important detail by far—her dresses.

Dylan
had been right when he said there would be dozens of designers wanting to
create her wedding weekend wardrobe, and she’d spent hours pouring over
sketches and sorting through fabric samples that were sent to her.  She knew
that whatever she chose would end up being plastered over all sorts of media,
and that anyone and everyone would put their two cents into the outcome. Tia
didn’t care—she was going choose a designer who would give her what she wanted.
She wasn’t into the super fancy, heavily beaded gowns—she wanted something
light and “beachy;” something she could dance in.

After
weeks of deliberation, she decided that Gus Vecstrom was just the man for the
job. A week ago she’d met with one of his assistants for an initial fitting,
and they’d video chatted on two occasions so he could get to know her a bit.
Today he was in Chicago for a show, and he invited Tia and the girls to meet
with him so he could ‘capture their essences’ for the final designs of the
wedding gowns. He had some samples ready, and she could hardly wait to see
them. 

The
girls were going to make a day of it. Dylan arranged a fabulous dinner and a
room at the W, and Tia was positively glowing when the front desk called up to
tell her that her car was ready.

She,
Jessa, and Lexi arrived at the hotel in the late afternoon and were greeted
personally by Gus at the door. He waved to several attendants who efficiently
scrambled to pour champagne and place crystal platters of canapés around the
seating area. Gus pulled Tia into the room, kissed both her cheeks, and took
her face in his hands.

“Best
wishes to you, pretty one,” he said smiling and nodding his head. He looked
straight into her eyes and she smiled at him as he studied her features.
“Seafoam green,” he said in a low voice. “I was right about the eyes.”

“I
can’t tell you how thrilled I am that you agreed to make my wedding dress,” Tia
said shyly. “I really admire your work, and it’s truly an honor to wear one of
your creations.”

He
waved his hand in dismissal. “I am the one who is honored,” he said in his
heavy Dutch accent. “I admire your future husband’s work, too, and I’m happy to
play my small part.”

He
was seriously under exaggerating. Gus had designed wardrobes for many stars,
and was regularly featured in magazines and on television. He had a gift for
matching the dress to the person, and his pieces were revered as works of art,
not simply clothing.

The
girls each took a flute of champagne, and Gus motioned that they sit on the
long couch that sat in the center of the large room.

He
chatted with them for nearly an hour, asking them about their favorite colors,
what they liked, and how they were part of Tia’s life. As he talked, he studied
their features, their movements, their mannerisms. Finally, he stood and
summoned his attendants, who had remained observant on the edges of the room,
only moving to refill champagne glasses.

“The
bride, she goes last,” he announced. “Who is the maid of honor?”

“That
would be me,” Lexi said.

He
turned to Jessa. “We start with you, my dear.”

One
of his assistants was on her feet immediately, awaiting his instructions. “I
think I know exactly what to do,” he said smiling. “My instincts usually don’t
fail me. Monique, start with number two.”

The
woman nodded, plucked a dress bag from one of the many rolling racks scattered
about, and led Jessa into another room.

When
she emerged a few minutes later, Tia and Lexi gasped simultaneously. Jessa
would be the first to admit that she didn’t give her wardrobe much thought; her
usual mode of dress was a pair of loose fitting pants and a t-shirt; but she
stepped out of that room positively transformed. To say she was glowing would
have been an understatement, and she grinned wide when she saw the expressions
on her friends’ faces. She walked over to the three-way mirror that stood in
one corner of the room and took in her image, her smile lighting up her entire
face. “Wow. I didn’t think I could ever look this good,” she said, examining
herself from all angles and then spinning on her heel; causing the hem to
flutter like a butterfly.

She
looked like a sunset, and the soft layers of pale orange fading into orange-red
complimented her darker skin tone like they were a part of her. The loose
fabric swirled when she moved, causing the colors to shift and blend, and Tia
could imagine the sea breezes lifting it just slightly and setting the colors
into motion. The jagged hem ended mid-calf, and the long waist made Jessa look
taller than her five-foot-two frame. There wasn’t really a sleeve; instead the
fabric seemed to spill over the top of her arms, leaving her neckline and
shoulders bare.

“You
like?” Gus asked rhetorically. Tia and Lexi were both speechless for a moment
as they took in the sheer beauty of the creation.

“Oh
Jess, it’s absolutely gorgeous,” Tia said. “I know it’s silly to say that it
looks like it was made for you, because it was, but I couldn’t imagine anything
more perfect.”

“I
know—it’s spectacular, right? I feel like a dream!”

Gus
let them gush over the dress for a few minutes before saying, “OK, now you,
Miss Lexi,” indicating with his finger. “Number three for her.” Monique checked
a few tags, took a bag off the rack, and led Lexi into the same room while
Jessa continued to contemplate her image in the mirror.

Lexi’s
dress was entirely different, and just as suited to her. “Ooooh!” Tia and Jessa
sighed in unison as she stepped out and did a turn in front of them. Her dress
was the sky; several shades of blue swirled together so subtly that it looked
like a different color from every angle. It seemed to almost mimic the blue of
her eyes, and her blonde hair cascaded down like beams of sunlight. Her dress
was strapless, a bit longer than Jessa’s, and had a long scarf that wrapped
around her neck and fell gracefully down her back. It accentuated all of her
best features, and was definitively Lexi. Tia had tears in her eyes when she
got up and hugged her maid of honor. “It’s so perfect,” she whispered. Lexi did
another twirl, and Tia again imagined how incredible it would look on the
Caribbean beach, set to fluttering by the ocean breezes.  Jessa stepped up next
to Lexi in front of the mirror, and they marveled at how different their
dresses were, but how well they went together.

They
all stopped and turned to Tia. “Now,” Gus said reverently, “we dress the
beautiful bride. Number one, Monique. I should know by now to trust my first
instincts when it comes to the bride.” He winked at Tia as she followed the
slender woman and closed the door behind her.

There
was no mirror in the room, and it was lit mainly by a few dozen candles in
stands and on the dressing table, so Tia didn’t really get a good look at the
gown before she put it on. It weighed close to nothing; soft and airy layers
fluttered every time she moved, and she didn’t feel the least bit restricted.
She couldn’t wait to get to the mirror so she could see it, but she stopped
short when she caught the looks on her best friends’ faces. Lexi gasped, and
raised her hand to cover her mouth. Her eyes were wide, and brimmed with tears.
Jessa’s hand flew to cover her heart, and her smile said it all.