Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“And I promise to keep pointing these things out to you.” It was as much a pledge of solidarity as it was a warning. Neil wasn’t just an overprotective father. He was a just-protective-enough fiancé, too.
“You know, I guess you could come to the fitting,” I decided. “If you stayed outside and didn’t see me in the dress.”
“It’s better that I stay behind,” he said as I put my turkey into a baggie. He took his coffee to the kitchen table. “Doctor Harris will be stopping by this afternoon. I wouldn’t want you to have to rush me back.”
I dropped the turkey and the apple into my purse. “He’s coming out here?”
“He lives in East Hampton. We set up a house call arrangement.” Neil stretched his arms over his head and groaned loudly. “I may never have to leave again.”
“Achievement unlocked,” I teased. “Enjoy it while it lasts. It gets boring fast.”
“Well, I could always go pick up the dry cleaning. But any further than that and I draw the line. Your mother is still going with you, isn’t she?” he asked cautiously.
“Yes, she is,” I reassured him. “Besides, she wouldn’t barge in or eavesdrop on your therapy.”
“I know.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I’ll just feel more comfortable knowing I’m alone.”
A low rumble outside got my attention. “Is that a truck?”
“Hmm?” He glanced toward the window. “Oh, yes. I decided it was time we overhauled that strange little French building. Make it into a guest house, perhaps.”
The previous owners had been obsessed with France—or an American idea of France, at least—and they’d had a scale replica of the Pavillon Français erected on the grounds. Neil had given me the most amazing birthday celebration for two there, a movie night where he’d finally, finally watched Beauty and The Beast with me. It was a shame to mess with it.
“Aw, I kind of like that little place,” I said, masking my disappointment with teasing. “Don’t change too much about it, okay?”
“No, just adding a few small improvements.” He was being deliberately obtuse, so I assumed he had some kind of surprise planned.
Mom knocked on the kitchen door, and I called, “It’s unlocked!”
Our doors were normally unlocked during the day, though it drove Neil crazy. After growing up in a town where everyone left their houses open, even when they were away, I’d fallen back into the habit I’d abandoned within twelve hours of moving to New York. I blamed the acreage; not being able to see another house from ours, after living in the city for so long, made me feel like we were on our own little island.
Besides, we had security guards.
Mom pushed through the door in a flutter of cheetah print faux-fur poncho, her giant leatherette maroon purse hanging heavily at her side. Her hair was pushed back from her face with a pair of rhinestone-studded sunglasses. “Are we ready? Are you excited?”
“Not as excited as you are, I guess!” I mocked her with cartoonish enthusiasm. “Did somebody do a whole bunch of MDMA this morning?”
“I don’t know what that is.” Mom waved her hand at me and dug through her purse, taking inventory. “I’ve got a camera, I’ve got hand sanitizer, baby wipes, deodorant—”
“Mom, Mom,” I said, stopping her with a laugh. “We don’t need a bunch of equipment. We’re going to try a dress on.”
“Have you ever tried on a wedding dress, Sophie?” Mom demanded.
I had to concede that I had not. “No.”
“Well, neither have I, so we don’t know what we’ll need, do we?” She looked up as she tucked the flap of her purse back in place. “Good morning, Neil.”
He raised his coffee cup. “Rebecca.”
“Sweatpants again, then?” She punctuated her sentence with a faint grimace and a tilt of her head before turning to me. “So, shall we?”
I gave Neil a quick kiss, and he wrapped an arm around my waist for a squeeze. “Have a good time,” he said, giving me a peck on the ear before he released me.
After we’d gone out the door, I hissed, “Could you stop it about the sweatpants?”
She raised her hands and let them flop on her wrists. “I’m supposed to see someone just giving up on real pants and not say anything about it?”
“The man started like two magazines and ran a global media empire for twenty-five years. Give him a break.” When I said it aloud, that didn’t sound like a very long time, but it wasn’t like that twenty-five years had been a constant walk in the park. “Besides, he almost died. If he wanted to wear clown shoes every day, I wouldn’t care, just as long as he’s alive.”
Tony had parked the car across the driveway’s wide, round end, and he opened the door for us as we approached. “Good morning, ladies.”
Mom laughed him off, her face blushing bright red. That was…interesting. I smirked to myself and went around the car to get in, and let Tony give Mom the princess treatment.