don’t know,’ I whispered, taking a glass of champagne from another bow-tied helper. ‘When did he get this rich?’
We knew Lauren was From Money, but the last time I checked it wasn’t Scrooge McDuck money. I half expected to open a cupboard and have bags of gold coins fall out and smother me.
‘Maybe he won the lottery and she didn’t tell us,’ Sarah suggested as we were shown through the house and out into a marquee in the back garden. ‘Maybe she thought we’d feel weird about it.’
‘She would be right,’ I replied. ‘This is insane.’
A string quartet played in the corner of the marquee and fairy lights were strung all across the ceiling, fighting the dismal British weather to create a happy atmosphere. In the middle of it all stood Lauren, happily clutching Michael her Swiffer-loving fiancé’s arm.
‘Hey!’ She broke away the moment she saw us and rushed over as fast as her four-inch heels would carry her. ‘You’re here!’
‘Nice shoes,’ I said, accepting a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
‘Thanks,’ she said, kicking up a heel as she hugged Sarah. ‘I was thinking about these for your bridesmaid shoes, actually.’
‘All the better to break an ankle in,’ I replied. ‘So, um, when did your dad become the head of an international drug cartel? Because that’s the only person I can imagine would live in this house.’
‘Oh, haha,’ she replied, taking a glass of champagne from another waiter.
Sarah grabbed a second, her first almost finished. ‘What?’ She shrugged.
‘He’s an estate agent,’ Lauren said, waving at more people as they arrived. ‘He gets good deals on houses.’
‘Especially when he has the previous owners killed,’ Sarah added. ‘I’ve always got a Mafia vibe off your dad. Is that how he ended up in America? Is that how he met your mum?’
‘He’s not in the Mafia and he doesn’t run a drug cartel,’ she replied. ‘He’s just having a good year. And since my mom got remarried, he doesn’t have to pay her alimony any more. That probably helps.’
‘Is your mum here?’ Sarah asked, checking the marquee with fear in her eyes. ‘Please tell me she couldn’t make it.’
‘She couldn’t make it,’ Lauren said, entirely unimpressed. ‘It’s a long way for her. She sent flowers. She’ll come for the wedding, obviously. I don’t know why you’re so afraid of her.’
‘Lauren, your mother is the only woman on earth who has ever knocked me out,’ Sarah replied, rubbing her jaw to nurse a ten-year-old injury. ‘And she’s thirty years older than me.’
‘You did hit on my dad,’ she pointed out. ‘It wasn’t totally undeserved.’
‘I didn’t know he was your dad,’ Sarah sulked, rubbing her jaw as though the punch had happened yesterday. ‘And looking at this place, I wish I’d tried harder.’
‘You could have been mother of the bride,’ I said, patting her on the back. ‘It would have been beautiful.’
‘If you’re going to invite drunk nineteen-year-olds to you dad’s company Christmas party, you should provide some sort of handout to tell them who they may and may not kiss under the mistletoe,’ she said. ‘Totally innocent mistake.’
‘You had your tongue so far down his throat, I nearly threw up,’ Lauren replied. ‘You’re lucky I ever spoke to you again.’
‘This is a beautiful party,’ I said loudly, watching as tray after tray after tray of food was brought out and passed around. ‘That is my official and professional opinion. Who did you use?’
‘For the party?’ Lauren asked. ‘No one. My step-mom put it together.’
I stared blankly. ‘In two days? She did all this in two days?’
She nodded.
‘God, maybe Colton-Bryers should hire her,’ I muttered. ‘At least you’ve got good help for the wedding then.’
‘But you’re going to help me with the wedding too, right?’ she said, sipping her champagne. ‘I don’t want to be an asshole since they’re throwing me this party and everything, but I don’t want my stepmother planning my wedding. Besides, you’re an actual wedding planner. And it would be way more fun if the three of us planned it together.’
Yes, I thought, saying nothing. It would be way more fun. Planning a wedding with bridezilla, a divorcée and a spinster. Sob. It seemed pointless trying to remind her I was an events organizer and not just a wedding planner so I didn’t. I just sulked about it silently, alone.
‘So where are you at?’ Sarah followed Lauren over to a plush white sofa set up in one corner of the marquee and sat down. ‘Is the whole thing planned and booked and paid for already?’
‘Oh I wish,’ she said, giving another new arrival a wave. ‘I don’t know how you do this every day, Maddie. Every time I think I’ve decided on something, there are another ten things to work out.’
‘That’s why it’s a job,’ I said. ‘It’s more work than you realize.’
‘Thank God I have you to help me,’ she beamed across the table. ‘My own personal wedding planner.’
‘Yeah, of course.’ I returned her smile, barely. One more time, not a wedding planner. ‘Have you decided on a date yet?’
‘I wanted to talk to you guys about that,’ Lauren said, looking slightly shifty and curling the ends of her blonde ponytail around her index finger. ‘So, it’s like this. Michael’s grandma is over there.’
She pointed at an elderly lady in a wheelchair who was wearing the most spectacular hat I had ever seen.
‘She’s really sick,’ Lauren whispered.
‘She looks all right to me,’ Sarah replied. ‘What’s that she’s drinking?’
‘Whisky,’ Lauren said. ‘I kept having to top her up so I just gave her the bottle.’
‘And now she’s drinking out of it with a straw?’ I asked.
‘Whatever, she’s sick,’ Lauren said. ‘So we’re definitely going to have to get something figured out sooner rather than later if we want her there.’
‘I think you’re going to have to do it this afternoon if you want her there,’ Sarah said with a frown, unable to take her eyes off the woman. Really, it was the most amazing hat.
‘How soon is soon?’ I asked. ‘New Year’s maybe? Next spring?’
‘Like, August?’ Lauren pulled up her shoulders in a faux wince.
‘That’s not that soon,’ I said, calculating on my fingers. ‘That’s fifteen months, totally standard.’
Lauren
