Read Online The Body in the Boudoir by Katherine Hall Page - Free Book Online Page A

man!” Everyone laughed. He was a favorite with Poppy and she had shooed him away with reluctance. The man was such fun.
    â€œHis gift is under the table, and don’t bother to unwrap it. It will be a bore to pack it up again. He said to tell you it was a Waterford punch bowl and cups so you could get your parishioners to unwind.”
    Faith was delighted. At the gift, typical of him, and his notion of a roomful of tipsy parishioners. Her middle name was Schuyler in honor of him. He was her grandmother’s baby brother. Uncle Sky was either a little dotty or wonderfully eccentric, depending on the speaker. In any case, he’d been in great demand on the Manhattan party circuit even when he was a mere stripling at Princeton.
    And so it went, a giddy journey through the bride’s day that even Betsey’s extremely practical Tupperware offering, which she presumed Faith would use at 2:00 P.M. for some reason, could not dampen. Sydney’s 6:00 P.M. oven mitts and matching dish towels decorated with the logos of Boston’s beloved teams—the Red Sox, Bruins, Celtics, and Patriots—brought shrieks from the group. “Remember when we went to the Harvard-Yale game,” one of Faith’s college roommates reminisced, “and you asked why all the men in the striped shirts kept dropping their hankies on the field!”
    Having watched the proceedings with a slightly bewildered expression, Francesca handed Faith a large box.
    â€œIt’s for the antipasti, made near my home. I had the dinnertime.”
    Faith gave her a hug. The large ceramic platter was beautiful, and she could picture the way an assortment of antipasti—olives, prosciutto, mortadella, roasted red peppers, artichokes, eggplant caponata, Pecorino cheese—would look, mingling their colors and shapes with the pottery’s traditional swirling Tuscan design.
    Jane Sibley’s was the last gift—midnight—and she presented her daughter with what she proclaimed essential for a long and happy marriage: an Itty Bitty book light. She also gave her a lovely royal blue velvet robe with her new initials on one quilted satin cuff.
    â€œNo backing out now, Faith,” someone said, and someone else put another brimming cup of punch in her hand.
    â€œNot a chance—and thank you all so much. Especially Poppy!” Faith raised her cup—among a vast number of other items, Poppy collected antique sterling christening cups to use on occasions like this.
    â€œTo Poppy,” Faith said and drank deeply as the others echoed her words. She was filled with gratitude. In one afternoon, Poppy had accomplished what Faith had been trying to do for herself in vain since Tom’s proposal: she had made her feel like a bride. A happy, blushing bride!
    The popovers and other food had been replaced by fruit salad—Poppy had declared that she wasn’t going to have her cook bother to bake a cake that the women wouldn’t want their fellow guests seeing them eat more than a bite of, no matter how yummy. But she had set plates of François Payard chocolates and his mini pastries around the room, where presumably those who wished could indulge discreetly.
    Faith went over and sat down next to her grandmother. She was suddenly feeling very tired. Being a bride was hard work. She’d already spent hours with her mother and grandmother drawing up lists. Lists of guests, possible menus, even gifts, which had started to arrive before the announcement had been made officially—major to-do lists. And then there was her dress. They had an appointment at Bergdorf’s bridal salon for Wednesday afternoon, the only time Hope could make it, and she’d insisted she had to be there so Faith wouldn’t end up wearing what looked like a slip or dressed like Little Bo Beep.
    Her grandmother stroked her head. Faith hadn’t realized she’d laid it on Nana’s shoulder.
    â€œYou feel a bit warm,