5. The Good Girl
THE GOOD GIRL
CHELSEA
Back in New York City, I immersed myself in my day job at the TV station, preparing for my next live segment featuring edible flowers and how to incorporate them into your everyday cooking.
By night I had wedding homework from Miriam—sifting through website links she sent me for this or that, and taking her veiled digs at my dragging feet when it came to making some decisions about the reception dinner menu.
Friday afternoon rolled around too soon, and my producer called me into her office. I was slowly getting comfortable with India Canton since she was hired, but she was no Stanley. When he retired in January, I sobbed my eyes out.
After hiring me last fall to be the Morning City Show’s resident foodie and cook, Stanley had taken me under his wing and taught me everything he could about working in the world of television as if preparing me for life without him. I missed him every day.
“Have a seat,” India said, gesturing to a lemony yellow leather chair. All traces of Stanley were gone, including his awesome collection of black and white photos of celebrities from years gone by. She’d infused the office with a look that one could only describe as a citrus flare in shades of yellow and orange everywhere. But given most days around the morning show began at three in the morning, it probably helped wake her up the moment she stepped foot here.
“How goes the wedding plans?” She opened with that, but I sensed there was more. India always seemed to have something mulling around her brain, but that probably made her a decent producer.
“Fine. We’re having a Christmas wedding,” I gushed. As much as the event planning stressed me out, my love for Rex still put the biggest grin across my face. And the fact the wedding was during my favorite time of year helped, too.
“I’d heard. Toward that end, I want you to do a new weekly segment about it.”
My smile dropped. “What do you mean?”
“In addition to your cooking segments, I want you to bring the viewers along with you as you plan and prepare for your big day.” She handed me a file, looking at me expectantly through her thick glasses. I flipped through it and the first item inside was a calendar and suggested topics to cover for each appearance. I had no words.
“In fact, how would you feel about having the viewers help you select some of your wedding day plans? We could set up a weekly online poll. Oh, the viewers would go crazy about something like this. I could see plenty of accolades and awards coming our way at next year’s City Television Awards.”
India stared off into the distance as if envisioning herself on stage giving her acceptance speech. After Stanley left, the single, petite producer took charge and got our programming in shape with sweeping changes, earning herself a reputation as a spitfire around here, and some respect, but under the surface I always knew there was something else about her I couldn’t put my finger on.
I snapped out of it, trying to be as tactful as I could. “Um. India. While this is intriguing, honestly, the wedding planning has been…how should I put it? Overwhelming. My fiancé’s family is rather well to do and?—”
“Yes, the Buchanans, correct? I’ve looked into them. They’re one of the city’s oldest, most influential families in certain circles. It will fascinate New Yorkers with seeing how the rich put on an elaborate affair.” The gleam in her eyes hadn’t faded yet, still seeing stars, or rather her name in lights, as if I suddenly was her ticket to higher heights.
“It’s just been a lot, and I don’t know if I could handle one more thing on my plate right now.” I appeared three times per week live on the show as it was, plus six standalone pre-recorded seasonal specials dotted the production calendar for the year.
Not to mention I still had Uncle Doug’s deli in the Buchanan building to oversee, although I’d hired a wonderful manager in my place. Then there was the cookbook publication I worked on in my spare time, with a looming first draft deadline coming up at the end of summer.
Being on television was never the career I expected to have, but I wasn’t complaining. I really loved doing this. But with a packed schedule plus wedding planning, my shoulders strained under the weight of it all.
Her head quirked to the side. “I know Stanley extended your contract for this year. It’d be very difficult to suggest another year to the station’s manager if you don’t cooperate.”
Wow. India revealed her true nature—cutthroat wrapped in a sugary sweet smile. Then she giggled, as if her veiled threat was all a silly joke.
“Listen, it’ll be fun and no big deal. You can handle it, and I have full faith in you to pull this off,” she said.
“India, while I appreciate your idea, I don’t even know if my fiancé would want our wedding day plans broadcast to everyone.”
“Well, ask him. Give it some thought over the weekend. Come back refreshed on Monday, and we’ll get the ball rolling. Okay? Bye-ee.” She dismissed me with a wave and another sickeningly sweet smile laced with poison.
Heading back to my cubicle, I texted Rex how I was looking forward to a night in to cozy up to him with alcohol and ice cream, not necessarily in that order, but Miriam interfered, texting us both.
A week after vacation it became clear: Miriam was the definition of obsessed, complete with the thick wedding planning notebook she now carried with her everywhere like it was a new appendage. Her life mission was assuring her son had the most perfect day ever, while I was the bride she kept way too busy, as if giving me no time to even think about backing out of this extravagant affair.
I wouldn’t anyway, because of my love for Rex. Anytime Miriam’s name popped up on my phone, though, I steadied myself with a breath and tried to remember how hard it must have been on her when Richard’s wedding cancelled.
Miriam: We need to select a cocktail for our wedding theme.
A cocktail? Once again, there’s her use of the word our. I sighed.
Miriam: I booked us with a cocktail concierge service. Meet me at the Plaza Champagne Bar.
Chelsea: Do we need to do this tonight?
Rex replied quickly, before consulting me.
Rex: We’ll be there.
I almost texted back asking why we couldn’t limit the drinks to wine, beer, and pink champagne, but maybe this was one of those instances where I needed to pick my battles, no matter how tired I was.
To make Miriam happy, I went along with this and met her and Rex there after work. They were already perched at the end of the marble-topped bar, where the crystal chandelier cast light across the elegant gold and ivory decor. All things considered, I knew how lucky I was to have the Plaza as our reception venue, but it was far from the gazebo in the square at Holly Creek.
“Ah. There she is. I had a friend of mine book us this appointment very last minute,” my future mother-in-law air kissed me when I arrived. “I’m glad you two didn’t have any plans this evening.”
I bristled, knowing I could have come up with a million things to do with Rex to fill our plans for the evening.
Rex stood and embraced me, whispering in my ear, “Be a good girl and go along with this. I’ll make it worth your while later.”
He moved over, helping me onto the barstool next to him, while his words traveled down my goose-pimpled skin and lodged right between my legs. His hand settled onto my thigh and I laced fingers with him. Miriam had no idea I sat with my thighs squeezed together because of her sexy son and thoughts of how he’d make this up to me later.