“Don’t you dare cry!” Sandra warned, not very far away from bursting into emotional tears herself.
Cecile bit her lip, calling to the other bridesmaids in warm tones, “You look great, too!”
“It’s the wedding of the year, my dear,” Denise answered, with a flourish of her skirt.
“Ladies, please!” The hairstylist who had been employed to do their hair clapped his hands to get their attention, but that proved impossible. For Sandra’s mother, Pamela, looking as glamorous as a film star in a short-skirted Chanel suit and a sexy fascinator on her blond head, chose that moment to walk into the room carrying the beautifully wrapped gifts from Sandra to her bridesmaids. She presented one to each young woman in turn while they exclaimed in delight.
Melinda lost the least time pulling off the elegant wrapping. What she saw made her suck in her breath. “Oooooh!” Slowly she withdrew from the jeweler’s box a rope of freshwater pearls fashioned into a choker with a large central clasp of deep pink tourmaline. “Sandy, is this for me?” Her voice wobbled in a mix of awe and delight.
“No one else!” Sandra smiled. “As you can see—” she looked at each of her bridesmaids in turn “—each clasp was chosen to coordinate with your gowns. Pink tourmaline for Melinda, topaz for Eva, amethyst for Denise, pave diamonds for Cecile.”
“How absolutely gorgeous, and so generous!” Denise rushed to the long pier mirror to put on her choker. Once fastened, she stared at herself wide-eyed as the big central amethyst caught the light.
“I’m going to treasure this all my life!” Eva was poring over her gift, her fingers caressing the lustrous rope of pearls.
“Here, let me help you put it on,” the hairstylist offered, thrilled he had been chosen for what was a big society wedding, one that would get national coverage.
Denise moved away from the mirror to allow Cecile her turn. Beautiful before, the choker with its sunburst of pave diamonds complemented Cecile’s gown dramatically and drew attention to the silver shimmer of her eyes.
“Perfect!” Sandra murmured in satisfaction, smiling at Cecile’s shoulder.
“Heavens, don’t blind us, Cecile!” Denise joked, wishing she could look like Cecile Moreland if only for one day. “Hey, Sandy,” she addressed the bride, “you’ve got to have something old now, something borrowed, something new…”
“And something blue,” Melinda chimed in.
Sandra waved her magnificent sapphire-and-diamond engagement ring in the air. “Here’s the blue. Mama—” she pointed to her youthful-looking mother “—supplied the something old, but that’s a closely guarded secret.”
“A very fancy garter, I bet,” Denise giggled.
“Nooo, Denise,” Pamela dragged out the word humorously, “not a garter. So are we all ready?” Pamela picked up her daughter’s exquisite trailing bouquet and passed it to her. “You look beautiful, darling. I’m so proud of you.” Pamela hugged her daughter one last time. “We’re going to get through this splendidly. That means no tears to ruin your makeup. All right, girls, the bridegroom, his attendants and hundreds of guests await!”
Laughing happily, they moved in succession out of Sandra’s bedroom, excitement alone lending them all a special loveliness. Weddings spread their own magic, Cecile thought. This was a day when nothing could go wrong. Or nothing would dare go wrong. So why did she feel something already had?
CHAPTER TWO
THE CEREMONY WAS one of high emotion. Family and guests were infused with the bliss that surrounded the bride and her groom. As the couple came together for the ceremonial kiss, many of the women guests yielded to an emotional tear, remembering their own wedding day or perhaps the wedding of a beloved son or daughter. Taking her new husband’s arm, Sandra led the way to the wedding banquet, which turned out to be brilliant. The food and drink were superb. There were speeches, short and entertaining, that had people laughing; others were deeply touching, such as Joel Moreland’s welcoming the bride into the family, an event he said couldn’t have taken place had his grandson, Daniel, not have been restored to him.
Afterward there was a great deal of catching up to do as relatives who hadn’t seen one another in ages came together and friends from either side of the bridal party were introduced to one another. Professional photographers were on hand to record the happy occasion. The press photographer, with a large video camera in hand, worked his way through the throng while guests took photographs destined for private albums. The bride found herself surrounded by old friends all wanting to embrace her; the groom found he had even more cousins than he had ever dreamt of. There were people everywhere: inside the flower-decked house, with all the French doors standing open to the garden; in the main reception rooms, the huge living room, dining room, library, garden room at the rear of the house. Young people sat all over the steps of the grand staircase, eager to make new friends and, who knows? meet the love of their life. Or dancing to the excellent band had already begun on the broad stone terrace that wrapped the rear of the mansion. Many more guests, champagne flutes in hand, were wandering about the beautiful grounds, admiring the flowers and the antique statuary. Some of the children had stripped off their wedding finery to dive near naked and shrieking into the lake, with inevitably a few adults who’d had too much to drink falling in to join them.
Cecile roamed freely with Stuart, the two stopping frequently to converse with family and guests. Invariably someone, most often a woman, told them archly, “You two will be next!” At such times Stuart always drew Cecile close, dropping a kiss on her temple beneath the lovely garland of silk flowers. “Can’t come soon enough for me!” was his most favored response.
It was an answer that should have made Cecile glow. Instead something twisted inside her and on this day of days she found herself badly unsettled. Was it being witness to the love between Daniel and Sandra that had crystallized her long-growing uncertainties? Or was it having that man look at her as he did? She wasn’t a temperamental woman—she rather prided herself on her composure—but that look had shaken her. To think that out of the wild blue yonder she had been plunged into what amounted to panic! Such things didn’t happen to her. It didn’t seem possible that a mere look could turn her world upside down. The answer presented itself. Because it was so primitive, so much man-woman, so irrevocably physical. She might as well have been standing on the balcony with her gown transparent. She had to force herself to stop quivering
For a fraught moment Cecile felt like slumping onto one of the stone garden benches, head in hands. There would be a terrible backlash from Stuart and his family if she ever thought to break her engagement. They, who were all so much for her, would overnight turn against her. Bitterness and anger would take hold, never to let go. She would be made to feel their public humiliation. In her heart she knew part of her appeal for Stuart and his family was her being Joel Moreland’s granddaughter. She had grown up knowing that being the only granddaughter of one of the country’s richest men affected her relationship with others. Some actively pursued friendship, others, motivated by envy became detractors behind her back. She was never one hundred percent sure who actually liked her for herself except for a trusted few, whose friendship she cherished. Even Stuart, by his own admission, was a man on a mission. He wanted to be a real player. He was already on his way. A very bright associate in a leading law firm, Stuart Carlson was looking at being made a full partner within a year or two. He had political aspirations, as well, perhaps borne of his longing to be in the spotlight. She had often teased him about his ambitions. Now she thought they were too overriding. Even in the past year Stuart had become increasingly
