Wicked Forest (DeBeers 2)

He couldn't help but look interested,

"When is this world-shattering event, anyway?"

"The last weekend in June," I said.

He looked thoughtful,

"I'll do it if you will let me give you a wedding present," he said. "Let you? Why shouldn't I let you give me something?" I asked.

"You have to help me create it." he said. It will take up some of your time."

"You want to paint me again?" I asked, realizing. "You've already done a beautiful picture of me. Linden," I said softly.

"This one will be different," he insisted, "I was looking at you with different eyes then. Well?"

"Of course," I said. "Thatcher will be very happy to hear about it."

"I'm doing it for you, he said.

But it's a wedding gift, right? That means its for both of us." He thought a moment.

"I suppose so," he said. "He's never really commented about my work except to say it's really something, whatever that is supposed to mean. I always felt he was laughing at me behind my back."

"That couldn't be so. Don't forget, he helped get your work into some galleries, Linden. Right? Right?" I pursued.

"Yes. I suppose."

"Just give him a chance, a real chance, okay?" He nodded.

"Thank you. Linden," I said, and kissed him on the cheek. He brought his hand up to touch it as if the kiss still lingered there.

.

There were moments when Mother and I both wished we had left the choice of my wedding gown and the bridesmaids' gowns to Bunny Eaton after all. What we had assumed would take only a few hours took all afternoon the following day-- but it wasn't only the time, it was the feeling we had truly fallen into the fishbowl. Thatcher was certainly right about the speed of gossip and social news. I wondered if there was anyone within fifty miles who didn't know by now that I was his fiancee and we were planning our wedding. Just the mention of my name put more hurry into everyone's steps, more excitement and interest in everyone's voices.

For one thing, we didn't even have to begin to research where we should go to choose a wedding gown. Less than an hour or so after our meeting with Bunny Eaton, our phone began to ring. Three bridal shops called within ten minutes of each other, one of which was the shop Bunny had recommended. Being skeptical of Bunny's motives all the time. I suspected she had her spies there and would somehow overpower Mother's and my opinions with her own. We decided on the third shop, simply because we both liked the name. the Bride's Nest. Even before we stepped up to the door, it was opened for us, suggesting the saleswomen had been told to keep an eagle eye out for our arrival.

Fawned over and treated as though we were both royalty, we were quickly led to a showroom where three women modeled one wedding gown after another. The manager of the shop. a French woman named Monique Patachou, delivered continuous descriptions of the gowns and commentary including mentions of prominent women who had worn dresses by the various designers. After the fifteenth gown, both Mother and I were exhausted by the choices. We conferred and, amazingly, both centered on a silk chiffon over silk shantung gown that had beaded lace covering the bodice and an off-the-shoulder sweetheart neckline. The beaded lace also traced the

hems of the skirt and the detachable chapel train. Both of us also preferred it in ivory.

Then began the fitting. Once I came out in the gown. I could see the pleasure and excitement in Mother's eyes. Her face took on a healthy, happy glow that put the flutters of joy into my own heart.

"I would recommend you buy your shoes now," Monique suggested. "You can wear them a bit to break them in and wear them at all your fittings. Get something you're used to wearing. too. I see you favor flats." she added, and suggested a satin shoe with soutache, which was a type of narrow braid.

After that we chose the gloves, settling on opera-length. Nearly four hours after we'd started, we were too exhausted to begin choosing a bridesmaid gown. but Monique addressed Mother and offered some opinions about what she should wear.

"Mothers are always putting their dress choice off until the last moment. I wouldn't recommend that. You want something that complements your daughter's choice. Bone and off-white remain the most popular colors for the mother of the bride, and I have selections that are anything but matronly. In fact, a pretty halter dress with a jacket might work. You will certainly look young and trendy."

"Later." Mother pleaded. "Please."

"We've accomplished what we set out to do today," I explained. "We'll be back soon."

"Oui, "Monique said. "But remember not to wait too long and be too rushed. You might think you have a great deal of time, but with fittings and all the other decisions to make--"

"I understand." I said. "Thank you."

"We'll call you for the first fitting. Maybe then, madame," she told Mother, who eagerly agreed.