An arch on the beach made from Cape Cod driftwood just for them, entangled with roses and springtime wildflowers that would have to be shipped from New Zealand, given the fact that it was autumn here. The tent would be hung with enormous floral designs and special lighting. They’d hired the same photographer who had shot the Jonas-Chopra wedding.
“Seriously?” I said.
Hannah had the grace to roll her eyes.
There would be a raw bar, of course . . . it was Cape Cod, and every wedding had one. But theirs would have not just our famous Wellfleet oysters and clams, but also Maine lobster, wild Gulf shrimp, Alaskan king crab and otoro Atlantic bluefin tuna, whatever the hell that was. Ten types of passed hors d’oeuvres, all organic, including sushi made at the sushi station.
There’d be lobster bisque, a salad, five kinds of bread, biscuits and crackers, including gluten-free. Palate cleansers? Of course. Mint sorbet for the first course, apple and calvados sorbet for the second.
“What’s calvados?” I asked.
“A type of brandy,” Hannah said, taking another slice of bolo.
For dinner, Bralissa’s wedding guests would be treated to a crab-stuffed filet mignon and lobster tail, or herbed sea bass curry with lemon rice and grape salad, or penne rigate with shaved brussels sprouts and Gorgonzola cheese, or summer squash with green zebra tomato lasagna with basil-pistachio pesto. Dessert would be a $10,000 five-tier cake shipped in from New York City, plus a Viennese table containing cream puffs, crème br?lées, miniature cheesecakes, tarte tatins, macarons in pale blue, and napoleons. A gourmet coffee bar staffed by the nice folks at Beanstock, serving espresso, cappuccino, and a custom blend made just for their wedding. Four kinds of red wines, six kinds of white, none of which sold for less than $600 a bottle, and, for the champagne toast, Dom Perignon Rosé from 1975, rolling in at $2,300 a bottle. A scotch and vodka tasting. A cigar sommelier.
“What is a cigar sommelier?” I asked.
“Exactly what it sounds like. Some guy pushing cigars that cost a hundred bucks a pop.”
Later in the evening, a slew of gourmet sandwiches would be served in case the guests got peckish. A final champagne toast, then off went the happy couple in a bleepin’ Bentley.
I put her laptop down on the coffee table. “Wow.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I would never have taken them on if you hadn’t asked.”
“You’ve done well for yourself,” I said. It was supposed to be a compliment, but it didn’t come out that way. “I mean, you know. You’re a very good wedding planner.”
“Thanks.”
“No, I’m being sincere. You have . . . style.”
“Well. Beatrice taught me a lot.” Yes. Beatrice had been Hannah’s Svengali, back when she was a teenager. “You know,” she added, “Beatrice might be a great person for you to talk to these days. She’s very kind. If you let her in, you’d know that.”
“I have nothing against Beatrice.”
“Right.”
“I mean, I did, way back when.”
“Why, Lillie? She was so nice to both of us.”
“Um . . . because she was the other woman? Because she broke up our family? Because she hypnotized you and turned you into a different person?” Obviously, I was raw. What if Melissa hypnotized Dylan? My God! What if he loved her more than he loved me, the way Hannah loved Beatrice more than our mom? I grabbed a napkin and wiped my eyes.
“I needed to be a different person,” Hannah said, her voice gentle. “Don’t you remember?”
Zeus, tired of sleeping on his bed, jumped up onto the couch next to me to sleep there. He put his head in my lap and gazed up at me, his doggy eyes concerned.
“I mostly remember how much I missed you and how lonely I was,” I said, tracing Zeus’s spots. “Meanwhile, you were walking around their house with books on your head, speaking French and learning how to set a table for a five-course dinner.”
She looked at me steadily. “I was bullied so badly at school here in Wellfleet. I was five foot ten at age twelve and had this face.”
“What face? Your face?”
“Yes, Lillie! An ugly face. Big nose, weird forehead, small eyes. They called me—” She stopped. “It was a long time ago.”
“I never thought you were ugly.”
“You were the only one.”
“Dad never did, either.”
She sighed. “Well, you don’t know what it was like. They called me . . .” She paused. “They called me the Virus. Said they didn’t want to get too close in case my ugly was catching.”