Wicked Forest (DeBeers 2)

"My father wasn't very religious, but my adoptive mother was Episcopalian, as I believe my mother's family is,"

"Yes," she said with relief. "Well, that avoids anything vulgar.

Now, as to the guest list," she pressed on, running away with my life and my future, "my advice to you is to have it made up as quickly as you can With Thatcher's business acquaintances and our own friends and acquaintances, we simply cannot invite fewer than five to six hundred people. I'm assuming you will have half that many."

"Nowhere near it," I said.

"Oh? Well, whatever. Well, then. I've made up a list of things to do and I've underlined in red those things I can arrange," she said, handing me a sheet of her personal stationery,

"This is all very interesting," I said, glancing at it. Practically everything on the sheet had been underlined in red. "Thank you. I'll take it back with me and discuss it with my mother."

"What?"

"To see how this corresponds with her own ideas. of course." I replied.

-"But... your mother? Is she capable of such decisions? She's been out of society so long. She wouldn't know where to begin."

"Oh. Bunny, a woman always knows where to begin when it comes to the wedding of her daughter, don't you think? Especially a wedding like this. We'll get back to you," I added, and rose.

She sat there, looking stunned.

"Actually, lilacs," I said.

"What?"

"An altar made of lilacs. I'll see what Mother thinks. Those little cakes are sumptuous."

She looked like she couldn't swallow. I flashed a smile at her and left her sitting there with a petit four pinched between her right thumb and forefinger,

De Beers, I heard my conscience declare as soon as I stepped out of the rear of the house and started down to the beach house. You little brat. You enjoyed that too much.

But I -was nice about it, wasn't I? I can do this. I can handle them all, I thought confidently.

Do you think you're being too arrogant? Daddy would ask.

No. I told him in my mind. Just confident.... It's the right answer. isn't it. Daddy?

We'll see.

We'll know sooner than later.

Won't we?

8

Lunch with Whitney

.

My life began to move as if God had pressed a

button and shifted it into fast forward. Despite my reaction to Bunny's heavy hand in my and Thatcher's wedding plans. Mother and I decided it was not so bad to permit her to make most of the arrangements. For one thing. Bunny wasn't wrong about the fact that Mother was out of touch with Palm Beach society and the people to contact; for another, with all I had to do to prepare for school and we had to do to prepare to move into the main house, it was wise to place the heavier burdens on the Eatons, people who had nothing to do with their lives but frolic.

"Besides," Mother pointed out, "we have to give the devil her due. She will know more about arranging a formal wedding than I will."

And so, despite my instinctive belief that Thatcher and I should simply go off somewhere and get married. I agreed with Mother and we sent word through Jennings that we would like to discuss it all with Bunny. Just like two warring parties negotiating a peace treaty, we met on neutral ground about halfway between the beach house and the main house, the pool patio. Bunny had already gone ahead and hired herself a temporary secretary-assistant, which should have given Mother and me fair warning as to just how elaborate and involved this was all going to be,

"This is Patricia Prescott, my temporary personal assistant." Bunny began. "She'll take notes and follow through on our decisions."