Chapter 26
visions of sugarplums
Candy
Alone for the first time all day, I sat down in my dressing room and looked at my reflection in the mirror.
It had taken hours and the hands of both my skilled hair stylist and makeup artist, but there was no evidence of the tired woman who had stared back at me earlier.
Now all I had to do was finish adding my jewelry and step into my beautiful gown so Nick could zip me up, and we would be able to leave for the annual Christmas gala.
It wasn’t just any gala, either. This particular one was hosted by good friends to raise money for a cause that was near and dear to our hearts.
It was not only an important event for us to attend socially, but it was an important event for our community. An important event for us.
All eyes would be on us, as they always were.
Reporters would be there, sniffing out troubled marriages, hidden skeletons and dead bodies so to speak, and anything else that was juicy enough for them to run an article on.
Up-and-coming reporters would see it for what it was—an opportunity to get their name out there like they were the celebrities.
It wouldn’t be true, of course. It was always the same, they were always the same predictable money-hungry and debatably career-driven people.
Just like with everything else, it was growing old, like the way everyone managed to pretend everything was jolly like Old Saint Nick around the holidays.
But only for the holidays, because come the new year, that’d be over.
Nothing would’ve truly changed. Unhappy people would once again be unhappy.
Selfish…selfish. Heinous and ugly…all the same. No one would change their stripes.
I straightened and pushed back my shoulders. Some days I didn’t even recognize myself, and it was a hard truth that came barreling through like a tornado. Except I was the only one with the power to control the storm. And I had, every single time, because what else was I to do?
I had obligations.
I was Mrs. Nick Crane, and it was up to me to do what I deemed necessary to get through the days, the events, the gossip.
I’d buried my feelings down, so far down, and it was only recently they had reared their ugly head, threatening to destroy everything we had built.
This penthouse, this life didn’t come without its price, and I’d have sold my soul for Nick.
In some ways, I felt I had. These were thoughts I tried to never think.
In any event, it was time to move on and move out. The gala wasn’t going to wait for us, and the last thing we needed was to arrive tardy. We weren’t those people. We couldn’t afford to be those people.
Plus, this event was one Nick actually looked forward to every year. That made it even more meaningful as there wasn’t much we did that he appreciated.
Once I had my earrings on, I stood up and walked to my closet, a new sense of giddy coming over me.
I was about to see the ivory hand-beaded and embroidered off-the-shoulder gown I’d found for the event months ago.
It was a sheath gown, but because this was winter, I wanted a fuller skirt.
That was precisely why I’d taken it to a seamstress to attach an overskirt.
At my final fitting, I’d felt like royalty, and I couldn’t wait to get it on again and experience the same feeling.
They’d taken forever, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever get it back, but I finally had.
Only, I had to part with it again for some very necessary dry cleaning. Much to my excitement, our housekeeper had picked it up last week and tucked it away in my closet for the time when we would be reunited.
I stepped in front of the garment bag that hung there like a dream suspended from clouds. Not able to resist a second more, I reached up and pulled it from the rack, placing it on a hook so I could unzip the beauty and be transformed into a queen.
This was but one reason why I loved the world I was subjected to because of my husband’s social status.
It just fit the feelings that I craved…well…
feeling. It gave me the opportunity to wear the most extravagant things.
Things that had the power to transform. Things that made me feel not just beautiful but truly radiant.
My hands shook slightly as I reached out to touch it.
My palms were sweaty, my heart racing. Oh, jeez, I felt like a virgin, not knowing what to expect my first time or the proper way to handle a man’s equipment.
Although I may have felt that way, it was lucky for me I was far from a virgin, especially when it came to matters of couture.
Clasping the tips of my fingers around the zipper to not mess up my French acrylics, I slowly pulled it down to reveal…
Oh.
My.
Goodness.
Gracious.
A disaster!
I pulled it down to reveal a disaster.
How could this be?
What had I ever done to deserve this…this…atrocious fate?
I was being punished, I knew I was, I just wasn’t completely sure why.
Like with a car accident by the side of the road or a lover’s spat in the middle of a party, I couldn’t seem to peel my eyes away. I was bewitched by the haunting sight before me.
I contemplated whether this was my own worst nightmare, but the results were in not seconds later. Yes, indeed, this was one of my worst nightmares come true.
The gown was not the gown I’d last seen. Not only was the skirt ruined, but the beads, the embroidery, it was all ruined. Hidden away in the garment bag as if no one would be the wiser.
What self-respecting person would do such a thing? They had to be a monster to know full well that I entrusted them to take care of this masterpiece, and they destroyed it. Well beyond repair.
How could this have happened? I mean, to think that this was the most absolute worst-case scenario.
I tore it off the hanger and clutched it to my bustier.
Heat trickled down my spine, and I felt a piercing need to scream.
What was I going to do? I couldn’t very well show up to the event in this…this…this…disaster.
Suddenly, the walls felt like they were closing in on me. My pulse raced at an alarming rate and my heart jumped into my throat. I feared I might be sick.
My mind was spiraling, going a million miles a minute.
What did I tell you? She never belonged here.
She’s an imposter.
I feel for Nick, I really do.
Talk about a disappointment. Nick must feel slighted. He married the wrong woman… The wrong woman… The wrong woman…
Those three words kept playing over and over again in my head until finally I couldn’t take it any longer. Not for another second.
Bile formed in the back of my throat, but I pushed it down, ignoring the cold sweat that I was breaking out in.
For the first time in a very, very long time, I didn’t think before acting.
I acted on instinct, so utterly fed up with it all.
I let out a scream that rivaled those that could only be heard by dogs, and the best part about it was that I didn’t care.
At all. This was my home, the staff had the evening off, and everyone was out except Nick, who I expected was waiting for me downstairs as he usually did.
Nick. I needed to see Nick.
I ran down the stairs, my toes clad in pantyhose hitting the steps one at a time. My feet would no doubt have bruises on the bottom of them from the way they were hitting the hard flooring, but it was worth it because I needed Nick.
He’d know what to do. He always was the more rational one between us.
“Candy,” Nick shouted, rushing toward me and nearly colliding with me as we met at the bottom of the staircase.
He swiveled his gaze over me, his blue eyes wide and fiercely devoted to checking out every inch of me.
His rough hands came down on my shoulders, heavy, needy, like he was prepared to be my anchor.
“Are you okay?” he asked, seemingly already knowing that physically I was fine, not so much as a hair out of place.
“No,” I cried, scrambling for the words to explain my predicament. “I’m sick to my stomach.” Actually, the room might have been spinning a little, which was causing my stomach to churn even more. Doing cartwheels would have been a fairer description.
I was very cognizant that if we didn’t leave soon, we’d be late, but I had nothing to wear.
Nothing that those vile women wouldn’t find something to say about.
To each other. In huddles. In the corner of a room.
In a bathroom. Somewhere people would least expect it, even though everyone, probably even their partners, knew they went off to cause their damage, talking about someone else.
I didn’t want to be that someone. Not again.
I’d had it all figured out, as I always did, to ensure that I wouldn’t be the person they could gossip about.
I was supposed to wear this gown.
I was supposed to look divine.
I was supposed to not only fit in but stand out in the most elegant way possible.
I was supposed to make sure no one ever so much as thought the horrid thought that Nick was slumming it with me. A poor excuse for a Crane wife.
I was—
I couldn’t think for another second. My brain defied me and shut down, as did my body as I collapsed against Nick’s chest in a heap, the gown slipping from my fingers. The tears started just then, and I was broken, unable to hold them at bay like I’d become so accustomed to doing.
I felt like a frayed edge that was fully torn, never to be put together again.
This was a long time coming, though, wasn’t it? Oh, what had I gotten myself into? Who had I become? This woman I hardly recognized, that was who.
Nick repeatedly kissed the top of my head, each kiss calming the storm I felt within, but only a little before another round of tears descended. Bringing a hand up to my back, he rubbed concentric circles over my exposed skin. “What the hell is going on?”