‘Nothing to do with my abilities, of course,’ smiled Tess.
‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll do a marvellous job,’ said Charles thoughtfully. ‘Trouble is, the appointment might well be forty years too late.’
‘Darling, how are you enjoying yourself?’
Brooke turned to her mother and embraced her. She smiled, knowing that Meredith had spent the evening having the time of her life, mingling like a statesperson. Brooke had to admit she looked the part too. Her hair was styled back into a champagne bun. She had on a long blue dress that Brooke recognized from the cowl neck as Oscar de la Renta and a large sapphire sat regally on a string of fat pearls around her neck.
‘It’s been a lovely night,’ said Brooke, ‘despite the fact it’s full of “close friends” I’ve never seen before in my life,’ she added playfully. ‘So who was that I saw you talking to earlier? The pretty girl in the sparkly dress? Good-looking man with her.’
Meredith looked over to the other side of the ballroom where she could see Tess sipping coffee while her boyfriend drank his champagne rather too quickly.
‘That’s Tess Garrett. She may be doing some public relations for the family in the run-up to the wedding. I must introduce you.’
‘Oh, Mom! What do we need a publicist for? I’ve told you, I want to keep things as normal as possible. For my sanity, please?’
‘Did I hear the words “public relations”?’ said a deep voice behind them. ‘Do you really think this lovely young lady needs any more publicity?’ laughed Wendell Billington, putting his arms around the two women. David’s father was an impressive-looking man, with dark, narrow eyes and a strong chin. He wasn’t tall, but he had a presence that seemed to overfill his space. ‘You needn’t worry, my dear,’ he continued in his gravelly baritone. ‘My office will be overseeing the communications side of the wedding, keeping a lid on it all. I’m sure we’ve all started thinking about the guest list, and there will obviously be security issues with some of the people attending.’
‘Of course, Wendell,’ smiled Meredith, putting a hand on his forearm. ‘We were just talking about someone working for the Asgill group. Hello, is that Alessandro Franchetti?’ she said suddenly, looking over Wendell’s shoulder. ‘Where on earth has he been all evening? I thought he might be a bit more noticeable, the amount we’re paying him.’
As Alessandro approached, Brooke kissed him lightly on both cheeks, but his expression remained grim.
‘I haven’t seen you all evening,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘Where have you been?’
‘I haven’t been here all evening,’ he hissed back, leading her away from Meredith and Wendell. ‘I’ve been firefighting.’
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
‘Everything’s the matter,’ said Alessandro. ‘This afternoon I phoned the owner of the Hudson Lodge in Duchess County to tell him we definitely wanted it for the wedding. He said I should contact someone else about it – someone in Dubai.’
‘Dubai?’ said Brooke, a sinking feeling in her stomach.
‘Last week he agreed to sell it to some sheikh.’
‘Then why did we drive seventy miles to look at it yesterday?’ said Brooke, her cheeks burning and tears welling in her eyes. Alessandro looked at the floor.
‘I’d been dealing with his sister,’ he said. ‘She obviously wasn’t in the loop.’
‘Darling, what’s the matter?’ said Meredith, seeing Brooke’s distress.
‘There’s a problem with Hudson Lodge,’ said Alessandro. ‘The good news is that the new owner wants to renovate it to the standard of The Point in the Adirondacks.’
‘And the bad news …?’ asked Meredith.
‘Work on it won’t be starting for three months and renovation will take over a year. That means we’re looking at next fall at the earliest.’
Brooke took a deep breath through her nose and willed herself not to get upset. It’s only a venue, she reminded herself. It doesn’t mean anything. But suddenly she thought of the shooting star in Paris, only this time the glittering orb was obscured by a big grey cloud.
Wendell took a step forward and rubbed Brooke’s arm kindly. ‘Perhaps you should reconsider our place in Newport?’ he said.
Brooke had a sudden flutter of panic, feeling the wedding getting further and further from the vision she had always had of her perfect day: a relaxed, happy, perfect occasion with the barefoot bride saying her vows next to lapping water. Yes, Cliffpoint, the Billingtons’ summer ‘cottage’, as David liked to call it, was majestic, but it was like a museum, so manicured and painstakingly tended. Brooke wanted wildness, rawness, the romance of nature. She didn’t want Cliffpoint, or Lily Salter as her bridesmaid. Wasn’t planning your wedding supposed to be fun?
‘Surely Cliffpoint would be perfect for a spring wedding, don’t you agree, Meredith?’ continued Wendell. ‘We have to make sure we’re sending out the right signals. Family values are important to us.’
Meredith looked conflicted, although she was disguising it well.
‘Thank you for your suggestion, Wendell,’ said a deep voice, ‘but it’s all under control.’
Just then Brooke felt two warm hands on her shoulders and turned to see a handsome older man smiling down at her. It was her Uncle Leonard. Leonard was Meredith’s brother, younger by a couple of years, and he had taken on a fatherly role since the death of Brooke’s own father. Brooke smiled back at him gratefully; his was just the friendly face she needed when she was feeling under such pressure.
‘I’ve offered Brooke and David Jewel Cay,’ said Leonard smoothly. ‘We think it will be perfect. Keeps it in the family too. Didn’t you tell them Brooke? David and I have just been discussing it.’
Brooke caught Leonard’s lightning-fast wink, then took a slow, deliberate sip of champagne to cover her grin. David walked over and gave her a reassuring nod.
‘Jewel Cay? What’s that?’ said Alessandro, clearly searching his mental database for a mention of the venue.
‘It’s my house in the Florida Keys,’ replied Leonard. ‘I didn’t want to offer it before; didn’t want to butt in on the bride’s big day.’
‘Oh but it’s gorgeous,’ gushed Brooke, wondering why she hadn’t thought of it before. ‘It’s a beautiful big white conch house on its own little island, a few miles from Islamorada. We used to go every winter. It would be ideal, Uncle Leonard!’
David nodded. ‘And the weather is perfect from late November,’ he said, smiling at Brooke’s delight. ‘The hurricane season will be over. It won’t be too hot.’
‘A winter wedding,’ smiled Brooke, grabbing David’s arm and squeezing.
‘What about New Year’s Eve?’ he asked.
Alessandro
