love you. Don’t waste your best years with a man who’ll use you. Don’t make the same mistake I did. You’ve only been married two hours. You can get an annulment.
Could she say that? Helen took on a mother’s duties when she put on the bride’s veil. A good mother would tell her daughter to get out of this mess.
Helen was greeted at the dressing-room door by the bracing smell of hot coffee. The breakfast buffet had been cleared. Jeff had set out plates of chicken and cucumber sandwiches, and dainty cookies.
What tempted Helen was the fresh coffee warming on the burner. Coffee would give her courage. After a cup of caffeine, she could drop some hints to Desiree. If the bride seemed receptive, she’d mention an annulment. Helen draped the dropped veil over a chair and reached for the coffeepot.
“You don’t have time for that,” Desiree said. “I want this thing off. Now.”
So much for Helen’s maternal fantasies. She was a servant and she’d better not forget it.
Helen approached Desiree as though the bride were a rabid animal. She carefully swung the heavy cathedral train out of the way and began unbuttoning the wretched dress for the last time. Desiree wriggled impatiently. A button slipped from Helen’s grasp.
This poor bride has had a terrible day, Helen thought, then rebelled at her sudden attack of saintliness. She was not going to play Victorian maid to Lady Desiree.
“The more you move, the longer this will take,” Helen said.
She stopped unbuttoning until Desiree stood still. Emily the peacemaker came over with coffee and cookies for the bride. That seemed to calm her.
Helen finished the last button and said, “There, you’re free. Step out of this carefully so you don’t get scratched.”
“Are you going to preserve your wedding dress?” said Amy, one of the dumber blond bridesmaids.
“So I can always remember this day?” The bride tore the dress from Helen’s hands, but that didn’t satisfy her fury. With one swift movement, Desiree grabbed the coffeepot and hurled it at the dress. Coffee splashed and shattered glass flew across the floor. A bridesmaid screamed.
“What are you doing?” Amy was shocked. “You could at least give that dress to charity.”
“So another woman can be as miserable as I am?” Desiree said. “Throw it in the trash.”
Emily bundled the ruined gown into a trash bag and hauled it out of sight. Jeff mopped up the spilled coffee and swept away the broken glass. The bridesmaids were afraid to say anything.
Desiree stood in her pure white La Perla underwear, showing off her slender body in a way that reminded Helen of Kiki. Desiree stretched like a cat, then started talking as if her seven-thousand-dollar tantrum never happened. “That dress hurt my back and shoulders. What do you think it weighed?”
“About twenty-five pounds, plus the train,” Helen said. “Why don’t you rest a moment or have a sandwich?”
“No, I want to put on my real wedding dress,” Desiree said. “The beautiful one. That ceremony was my mother’s idea. The reception is for my father’s business. But the afternoon cocktail party is mine. I’m going to have fun.”
I’m happy to help, Helen thought. Once the bride was buttoned into her fabulous cobweb dress, Helen could leave. She forgave Desiree her strange, sudden flash of temper. Maybe in her case, rage was a healthy response. Helen didn’t much care. She wanted to sit by the Coronado pool with a book and some wine. She could feel the cold glass in her hand and the warm sun on her hair.
“Terrific,” Helen said. “I’ll get your dress out of the closet.”
The door was stuck, a common phenomenon in the Florida humidity. Helen pulled on the handle and felt a weight behind it. The door was jammed.
It was that blasted hoop skirt. Helen knew she shouldn’t have shoved the rose dress into that closet with Desiree’s precious cobweb wedding dress. Now the door was caught. If she ripped that dress,
Could she say that? Helen took on a mother’s duties when she put on the bride’s veil. A good mother would tell her daughter to get out of this mess.
Helen was greeted at the dressing-room door by the bracing smell of hot coffee. The breakfast buffet had been cleared. Jeff had set out plates of chicken and cucumber sandwiches, and dainty cookies.
What tempted Helen was the fresh coffee warming on the burner. Coffee would give her courage. After a cup of caffeine, she could drop some hints to Desiree. If the bride seemed receptive, she’d mention an annulment. Helen draped the dropped veil over a chair and reached for the coffeepot.
“You don’t have time for that,” Desiree said. “I want this thing off. Now.”
So much for Helen’s maternal fantasies. She was a servant and she’d better not forget it.
Helen approached Desiree as though the bride were a rabid animal. She carefully swung the heavy cathedral train out of the way and began unbuttoning the wretched dress for the last time. Desiree wriggled impatiently. A button slipped from Helen’s grasp.
This poor bride has had a terrible day, Helen thought, then rebelled at her sudden attack of saintliness. She was not going to play Victorian maid to Lady Desiree.
“The more you move, the longer this will take,” Helen said.
She stopped unbuttoning until Desiree stood still. Emily the peacemaker came over with coffee and cookies for the bride. That seemed to calm her.
Helen finished the last button and said, “There, you’re free. Step out of this carefully so you don’t get scratched.”
“Are you going to preserve your wedding dress?” said Amy, one of the dumber blond bridesmaids.
“So I can always remember this day?” The bride tore the dress from Helen’s hands, but that didn’t satisfy her fury. With one swift movement, Desiree grabbed the coffeepot and hurled it at the dress. Coffee splashed and shattered glass flew across the floor. A bridesmaid screamed.
“What are you doing?” Amy was shocked. “You could at least give that dress to charity.”
“So another woman can be as miserable as I am?” Desiree said. “Throw it in the trash.”
Emily bundled the ruined gown into a trash bag and hauled it out of sight. Jeff mopped up the spilled coffee and swept away the broken glass. The bridesmaids were afraid to say anything.
Desiree stood in her pure white La Perla underwear, showing off her slender body in a way that reminded Helen of Kiki. Desiree stretched like a cat, then started talking as if her seven-thousand-dollar tantrum never happened. “That dress hurt my back and shoulders. What do you think it weighed?”
“About twenty-five pounds, plus the train,” Helen said. “Why don’t you rest a moment or have a sandwich?”
“No, I want to put on my real wedding dress,” Desiree said. “The beautiful one. That ceremony was my mother’s idea. The reception is for my father’s business. But the afternoon cocktail party is mine. I’m going to have fun.”
I’m happy to help, Helen thought. Once the bride was buttoned into her fabulous cobweb dress, Helen could leave. She forgave Desiree her strange, sudden flash of temper. Maybe in her case, rage was a healthy response. Helen didn’t much care. She wanted to sit by the Coronado pool with a book and some wine. She could feel the cold glass in her hand and the warm sun on her hair.
“Terrific,” Helen said. “I’ll get your dress out of the closet.”
The door was stuck, a common phenomenon in the Florida humidity. Helen pulled on the handle and felt a weight behind it. The door was jammed.
It was that blasted hoop skirt. Helen knew she shouldn’t have shoved the rose dress into that closet with Desiree’s precious cobweb wedding dress. Now the door was caught. If she ripped that dress,
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