Chapter Eight Lucy
Chapter Eight
Lucy
Katherine grabs my hand excitedly as we follow our mother into the wedding-dress boutique.
I haven’t seen her dress yet, and I’m looking forward to getting a preview.
Yes, it means I’ve had to leave Manhattan and come up to Massachusetts again, but Katherine really wanted me here.
I get to try on my bridesmaid dress too.
“I really hope you like it,” Katherine says. “My dress as well as yours.”
“I’m sure I’ll love both,” I say. “You have fantastic taste.”
“It doesn’t matter what she thinks,” Mom says, bristling. “It’s a beautiful dress, and you look like a picture-perfect bride. And the bridesmaid dresses are fine.”
Katherine and I share a look. Mom seems a little more tense than usual today.
The air conditioning in the shop is set to arctic, so I rummage around my huge bag for my favorite pink cardigan that I bought three years ago from Zara and still love.
One of the shop assistants shows Mom and me to a seating area and offers us champagne, while another takes Katherine off to get changed.
“How’s the bachelorette party planning coming along?” Mom asks.
“Good,” I reply. Now we have the house sorted, it’s been easy to plan around it.
I’ve arranged for logs to be delivered just in case there isn’t enough dry driftwood to set a fire on the beach.
I’ve got graham crackers and marshmallows for beachside s’mores, and a chocolate fondue fountain for intermittent snacking through the weekend.
After trading messages with Hunter, we’ve arranged a restaurant for Friday night when we’ll have family members joining us, and a private chef to come to the house on Saturday night.
We have flights booked into Martha’s Vineyard Airport direct, so Hunter’s flashy idea of a helicopter wasn’t necessary.
Hunter and I have been very civil in our messages. And he’s actually been pretty responsive. Our truce is holding.
“I hope it’s not going to be tacky,” Mom says as she shifts in her seat next to me.
“It’s not going to be tacky, Mom,” I reply. “It’s Martha’s Vineyard. It’s impossible to be tacky on Martha’s Vineyard.”
“I’m sure you’d find a way. Katherine and you have very different ideas of what a bachelorette should be.”
“No, we don’t,” I say. If I were going to organize my own bachelorette, I might not have chosen Martha’s Vineyard, but there’s nothing about the weekend I’m not looking forward to.
And anyway, I’ve been completely focused on giving Katherine the weekend she wants.
Any conflicting ideas we might have had, I’ve set aside.
“She said that you wanted everyone to go to New York.”
“I just said they have the best spas in case that’s what she wanted. It was only because we were having such a difficult time finding a house rental for the weekend.”
Mom rolls her eyes like I’m exaggerating how difficult it was to find something. “It’s the beginning of June.”
“Right, and things are booked up months in advance,” I say.
“You’re not going to take that cardigan, are you?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Why?”
She gives me a look that says, Do I really have to tell you?
“It’s a really pretty color,” I say.
“But it’s seen better days. While you’re up here, you should go and see Felicity. She’s got some beautiful lavender knitwear in for spring/summer.”
Felicity is one of Mom’s friends. She owns an eponymous clothing boutique local to our childhood home. As much as I like Felicity and admire the way she’s had her own business for as long as she has, I wouldn’t be caught dead in anything from Felicity’s.
Mom must catch the skepticism in my expression. “You ask your sister. She bought a beautiful short-sleeved sweater from there this week.”
My stomach lurches at the possibility that my beautiful, perfect sister is shopping at Felicity’s. The clothes there are aimed at women over fifty. Katherine might be about to get married, but she doesn’t have to completely give up on being young, does she?
Luckily, our conversation about Felicity’s is cut short when Katherine emerges from the dressing room.
She’s sent me pictures before, but nothing could have prepared me to see her dressed up in her slightly off-white gown and veil.
She looks like the fairy princesses we’d dress up as when we were little.
Except more beautiful and a thousand times more sophisticated.
I jump to my feet, unable to keep my eyes from welling up.
“You look incredible,” I gasp. “Perfect.”
She grins at me. “I love it.” She should love it. It’s completely perfect. “I hope Ed likes it.”
“Ed would think you look like a goddess in fishing galoshes,” I say. “He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you in this.”
Katherine smiles, her whole face glowing. “Do you think the neckline is too low, Mom?” There’s not even a hint of cleavage. Why would she think it was too low?
Mom shakes her head. “Not now they’ve brought it up a touch. You look beautiful.”
The bodice is strapless flat satin with a gathered skirt falling from the waist.
“Do you have the shoes on?” I ask.
Katherine pokes out her toe. “Yes, they always do the fittings with the exact shoes on.”
“You’ll be able to dance in those,” I say. They’re not too strappy and the heel isn’t too high. Just as well, because Ed is five ten.
“I hope so.”
“You haven’t practiced?” I ask. “You should wear them around the house.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mom says. “She doesn’t want them ruined before the big day.”
“She’s got a point, Mom. I should break them in. They’re not the most uncomfortable shoes, but if I just wear them around the house, it might help me spend the day on my feet.”
Mom tuts, but she doesn’t argue.
“And what do you think about the veil?” Katherine asks, looking at me. “Do you think I should go longer?”
“Absolutely not,” Mom interrupts. “Fingertip is the only acceptable length.”
“You’re right,” Katherine says.
“I like your hair up like that. With the veil on top.”
Katherine breaks into a grin. “Me too. It’s a bit different for me. But I like it.” Her gaze slides to Mom. “Mom’s not so keen.”
“Katherine has such beautiful hair. I think she should show it off.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to show it off. There’s all the celebrations leading up to the wedding. Not everyone will be at every event, but you’ll get to wear your hair down plenty on the other days.”
Katherine nods. “Yes. That’s a good point.”
Mom exhales more loudly than she needs to. “You can’t help pushing your opinions on everyone, Lucy. You should let Katherine make her own decisions.”
Katherine and I give each other a knowing look. My mother is nothing if not a hypocrite.
“I agree with Lucy,” Katherine says. “I want my hair up on the day.”
Mom lets out a little huff. “Of course you do.”
One of the shop assistants comes through and starts to ask Katherine lots of questions about the fit.
“And have you come up with something to wear for the days leading up to the wedding?” Mom asks me. “You can’t just leave it to the last minute and expect to find something.”
“Mom, I don’t leave things until the last minute,” I say. Truth is, I haven’t made my mind up about what to wear. I have options, but I haven’t bought anything yet. Not that I’ll be admitting that to my mom. She’ll just take it as proof that I’m as unreliable and flighty as I’ve always been.
“Just make sure you don’t wear that cardigan,” she says, nodding at me.
Katherine confirms her choice of veil and tells the tailor she likes the neckline and the length. There’s some discussion about the zip, then Katherine heads back into the changing room.
One of the assistants pops her head out from around the corner and beckons me into the changing area, where my bridesmaid dress is hanging. It’s a pretty, off-the-shoulder, pale-blue dress. It’s understated and elegant, just like my sister.
I change quickly and am pleasantly surprised at how well it fits and how the blue suits my skin tone. I was a little worried I’d look washed out, but of course, Katherine has picked the perfect shade. I turn one way and then the other, trying to see myself from every angle.
“Come out,” Katherine calls from the seating area. “I can’t wait to see you.”
The assistant brings me a pair of silver pumps, and they fit like a glove. I feel like the princess to Katherine’s fairy queen. It’s like traveling back a quarter of a century and playing dress-up again.
I step into the seating area and glance between Katherine and Mom.
Katherine and I grin at each other. “It’s such a pretty color,” I say.
“I’m so pleased you like it,” Katherine says, her eyes wide and happy. “You look beautiful.”
Mom winces. “Is it a little tight?” she asks the tailor. Then she turns to me. “Maybe you should size up.”
I glance down. It doesn’t feel tight. I check the mirror, but the fabric isn’t pulling or bunching anywhere.
“It’s not tight,” Katherine says. “It fits you just right.”
“It’s personal preference,” the tailor says. “But it’s cut on the bias, so it’s not meant to be loose. I’d say it fits perfectly.”
Mom raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything else. The excitement I felt when I first saw myself ebbs away. At least the tailor and Katherine like it, though I worry sometimes that my sister’s support is just her way of trying to protect me from the sharpest edge of Mom’s criticisms.
Katherine stands and we go back into the changing rooms together.
“You really do look beautiful,” she says as I go behind the curtain to change. “Just ignore Mom. You know what she’s like.”
“I know,” I say. “She wants me to be you. Sadly for both of us, I’ve never managed it.”
“I get her sniping too,” she says. “Just not as badly as you.”
“I guess,” I say, pulling the curtain open. “I just have to ignore it. It’s hard. She’s the voice in my head. God knows what she’s going to say about dinner at the bachelorette party.”
Katherine laughs. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about her, then. You know what she’s like when she’s got an audience. She has to put on the show of being the perfect family.”
“Right,” I say. “Except we all know we’re not.”
“You know what I always think?” Katherine asks. “Her parenting is a great manual of how not to bring up two daughters. When it’s our turn, we have to embrace our kids’ differences.”
“And let them grow and change,” I insist. “I’m not still the goofy kid I was at fifteen.”
“Right,” she says. “You have a great job. A great apartment. You’re an amazing friend and sister.”
Just not the perfect daughter.
“So have you met up with Hunter again since you went to his apartment?” she asks, a mischievous look on her face.
I shake my head. “Just been messaging.”
“He’s such a great guy, you know. He’s the best friend to Ed. He’s so loyal and supportive of this wedding and our relationship.”
“Does he need to be supportive of your relationship?” I ask.
I think back to what Hunter said about Katherine not being perfect, and how he finds her irritating at times.
I wonder how supportive he actually is. Sounds to me like Katherine isn’t his favorite person.
Not that I’m going to say anything to her.
“It helps for your friends to be supportive, doesn’t it?” she asks.
“For girls. I don’t really understand how it works for guys.”
“I know Ed feels like Hunter’s been great—stepping in a few times when Ed’s been caught up with wedding stuff, that kind of thing.
” Hunter strikes me as a guy who’s focused.
When we met, he just . . . wasn’t focused on the bachelor party.
But he found the house, and he responds to my messages the first time I send them.
If he’s been filling in for Ed, too, that must add some pressure.
Maybe I’ve been a little hard on him. He’s been pretty cooperative since that day at his apartment.
That was the last time I actually saw him.
He was so . . . kind to me. “He’s a good guy,” Katherine continues.
“And . . . very good looking, don’t you think? ”
“If you like that kind of thing,” I reply.
“Do you?” Katherine asks.
For a second, I wonder if she’s asking because Hunter’s said something. But it seems out of character for him. Anyway, he hates me.
“He’s not my type,” I say.
Katherine scrunches up her nose. “Not at all? His body is . . .” Her eyes light up.
“Katherine!” I admonish. “You’re getting married in a couple of months.”
“Married, not buried. Hunter’s a good-looking guy with a great body. I don’t know how he does it, because he’s a total workaholic. Maybe he’s lifting weights during meetings? Getting his steps in at a walking desk? Or maybe he doesn’t sleep.”
“Seems more likely,” I muse. “I wouldn’t rule out him being a vampire.”
“Because he’s so handsome?” Katherine asks hopefully.
I don’t want to burst her bubble and tell her that he’s probably itching to give me a neck wound.
“He’s not bad looking,” I concede. I’m sure Debbie agrees with me.
Katherine’s eyes go wide. “I knew it. You two have chemistry. I saw it at our engagement party.”
I roll my eyes but don’t push back. What’s the point?
If thinking Hunter and me having chemistry makes Katherine happy, then she deserves to stay in her bubble.
Only the two of us need to know that our “chemistry” was pure, unadulterated hostility until recently.
That’s water under the bridge. We’ve officially entered our truce era.