9. Hildy
Hildy
ONE WEEK BEFORE THE PRESCOTT-SCHAFER WEDDING
TAMNIèS, France—“What do you mean, he loves castles?” Fiona rounded on Hildy with eyes so wide she looked like a horse catching the scent of smoke. “Has he covered a lot of castle weddings? Are castles the new hotel ballrooms? Is it totally tired to get married at a castle?”
“A mysterious castle in the forest that no one has seen for decades?” Hildy sniffed at the improbability of such a thing. “I think not. You are the Belle au Bois Dormant, okay? A total legend. Bespoke to the max. Trust me.”
Beneath the soothing smile she was giving Fiona, Hildy sent a silent thanks a lot to Walter for adding another bridal insecurity spiral to her to-do list. Luckily, Hildy excelled at stopping a meltdown in its tracks.
It was one of the most valuable life skills she’d picked up during her sorority era, right up there with eyelash curling and planning a seated dinner for forty.
“Which I promised you could write about.” It sounded as if Fiona was reminding herself along with everyone else.
Granted, she had a lot of details to keep track of this week; some forgetfulness was understandable.
Fiona also had a wedding planner with two assistants plus staff, a wedding designer who traveled with his own retinue, and a dedicated beauty team.
It wasn’t like she was going to be stuffing Jordan almonds into three hundred mesh gift bags with her own hands.
Or whatever the table favors turned out to be.
Hildy was thinking maybe a sachet of raw gems, judging by the lavishness of the welcome hamper that had been waiting for her at the hotel.
Local wines, foie gras, a picnic blanket featuring a limited-edition toile print created specifically for the occasion (according to the glossy wedding guide)—Hildy might have never left her room again, if she didn’t have a story to protect.
“I don’t see why that precludes Walter from doing a piece on the castle,” Maude argued. “Think of the exposure. He’s an award-winning reporter.”
Who makes out with his rivals while kissing up to potential sources, Hildy thought, flames of anger licking the sides of her face.
So much for his vaunted journalistic integrity.
There was probably a lot more than kissing going on between Walter and Maude.
People didn’t cross the Atlantic for a handshake.
“Plus he came all this way,” Maude went on, adding a little whine to the sauce. “As a favor to me.”
Poor Walter, forced to take a trip to the south of France! Maude might believe he was there to help, but Hildy knew the truth. He was there to help himself to Hildy’s story.
“I know it’s your wedding, Fiona,” Mr. Prescott weighed in. “But it can’t be easy for Maude.”
That got Hildy’s attention. Was there some hidden drama playing out in the background—and did Walter know about it? When she glanced his way, he gave her an inscrutable brow lift. Whatever. She’d figure it out soon enough.
“What are you talking about?” Fiona frowned at her father. “Maude totally supports me.”
“Of course she does! But here you are settling down, and she’s still alone. Think about how it feels for her to be thirty years old with no marriage prospects.”
“My birthday isn’t until November,” Maude reminded her father.
“And who knows? Things might change by then.” Mr. Prescott winked at Walter. “For now, we should all be grateful Maude found a date who’s gainfully employed. And not looking for a green card.”
Okay, then. It sounded like Maude had a few skeletons in her dating closet. No wonder Walter looked good by comparison, with his fancy haircut and the way he filled out that summer-weight suit.
“And she gets the castle,” Fiona pointed out. “That’s a pretty nice maid of honor present. Better than the pajamas Daisy gave us.”
“I’m going to turn it into a retreat center and event space,” Maude explained in response to Hildy’s questioning look. “Which is why I need all the media hits I can get,” she added, with a grateful smile for her escort.
Hildy cocked her head, beaming her own message to Walter. Conflict of interest much? It was one thing to charm and disarm a source to expedite the process of earning their trust, but there was a pretty clear line between friendly chitchat and sleeping together.
“Sounds like there’s a story there,” she said to Maude. “I don’t know how familiar you are with Life, Styled—”
“It’s a magazine.”
“Thank you, Walter.” Hildy bared her teeth at him. “I’m sure she’s aware. Unless she’s been trapped under something heavy.”
“It’s very popular with people my age,” Fiona chimed in. “Not that you’re that much older, Maude.” She bit her lip, too late to keep from putting her foot in her mouth.
“We do a lot of stories in this vein,” Hildy said, smoothing over the awkward moment.
“Who doesn’t?” Walter murmured.
“Our coverage is distinctive. As a woman-owned-and-run business, we bring a unique perspective, looking beyond basic news angles to explore a more personal journey.”
“You can spare her the sales pitch.” Walter checked his watch. “I’ve got everything well in hand.”
Hildy lasered him with her eyes. “I’m sure you do.”
“Right.” Maude glanced between Walter and Hildy, who were still locked in a stare-off. “Shall we table this discussion until later? I need to get back to the castle, and Walter must be exhausted. I’m sure he’d like to rest before tonight.”
What a classy way to inform the world that you were about to get horizontal with your plus-one!
Some might be put off by the mustiness of air travel, but not Maude.
Then again, Walter’s appearance was less sweat-stained than artistically rumpled, like a high-end cologne ad.
And there were always showers, so maybe they’d go vertical instead …
Hildy pulled the plug on that line of thought before it could go any further.
“Go ahead.” She kept her voice sweet, so only Walter would catch the hint of menace. “Take a nice long nap. I’ll be here. Doing my job.”
He scowled at her. “It won’t be that long.”
Too bad for Maude. Hildy buried that thought as soon as it appeared. Walter wasn’t the only one who could keep a secret.