Attraction Page 5

  who reminded Roberta of a female guard in a Nazi concentration camp. She was deathly afraid

  of her, because the planner was so forceful in her opinions and was ruthless in casting aside any

  ideas that Roberta might contribute. In self-defense, she dragged her mother along in the

  excursions. They were ushered everywhere in a long black limousine that Heron lent them for

  that very purpose, with at least three assistants who were perpetually at Hildegard’s heels, always

  writing things down on their clipboards to her constant snapping orders. While riding with

  Hildegard, both mother and daughter sat silently, shivering in their seats while the planner yelled

  abusively in her cell phone to one of her hapless helpers.

  And everything that Hildegard picked for the wedding was bigger, more elaborate, and

  much more expensive than anything that Roberta would have chosen. At one exclusive wedding

  shop in San Francisco, she gasped when she saw the price tag of the guests’ gifts that Hildegard

  had picked out. Each was a small gift bag with glittering Christmas print tied with red and white

  bows. For the women, each bag a contained gift certificate for the ballet or opera, a small vial of

  French perfume, Godiva chocolate, and a miniature Waterford crystal champagne glass that had

  the names of the bride and groom. For the men, the bags contained gift certificate to the 3M

  stadium, cashmere socks, Godiva chocolate, and the same champagne flute. Each bag cost over

  one hundred fifty dollars.

  “One hundred and fifty dollars,” Roberta exclaimed. “We can’t buy this. This is

  criminal…”

  “Don’t worry, I’m going to get them to lower the price down to one hundred each, one

  hundred and twenty-five, tops,” Hildegard said.

  Roberta’s blue eyes widened with horror. “But, that’s over a hundred thousand dollars,

  and just for the guests’ gifts. We can’t do that.”

  Hildegard looked up from her notes. “Why not?”

  “I can’t be spending that kind of money…”

  The wedding planner waived her hand dismissively. “Oh, that. What are you worrying

  about? Your fiancée’s very rich. Remember?”

  “But that’s not right. Just because he has money doesn’t mean I can rack up the bills

  outrageously.”

  Hildegard rolled her eyes, and then feigned a yawn. “Oh, boy, don’t tell me you’re one of

  those principled women. Is that how you hooked him, lady, making him think that money was

  the last thing you look for in a man? Well, you got him, so you can stop with the act. Besides,

  one hundred thousand is just a raindrop in a one gallon pail for Heron Wait. And his family has

  several of those pails, I understand.”

  Not liking the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, a feeling that she had been

  experiencing more and more lately, Roberta tried something that she was not very good at; being

  assertive. “Now, look, I think this is getting a bit out of hand…”

  Hildegard looked at her watch. “Okay, it’s time to get moving. We need to get to the

  dressmaker in fifteen minutes.” She began to bark orders at her assistants.

  “Dressmaker?” Roberta questioned as two of the assistants took hold of one arm each and

  firmly ushered her towards the door. “What dressmaker?”

  “For your wedding dress.”

  Roberta pulled herself free and stopped in her tracks, and an unfamiliar groove of

  stubbornness began to form between her eyebrows. “I already have a wedding dress.” “You do?” Hildegard, her eyes blinking with deceptive innocence.

  “Yes. Don’t you remember? I showed you my mother’s wedding dress a week ago.” “Oh, yes. It was that fifties number, wasn’t it? It was quite charming, with its clean

  simple line, short, broad sleeves, deep scoop neck, and narrow lace skirt. And the yellowing

  white veil is a romantic, if rather trite, touch.”

  “I’ve always loved my mother’s wedding dress and have always dreamed of wearing it to

  my own wedding,” Roberta explained.

  “Do you love that dress more than your future husband?”

  “What?”

  “Well, you need to decide if you want to be sleeping with Heron Wait or your wedding

  dress for the rest of your life.”

  “I…I don’t understand.”

  Hildegard took Roberta’s arm in a bruising grip and walked her out the door. “Do you

  think you can really do that to a man like Heron Wait? Do you think a dress like that justifies the

  prestige and wealth that he is about to bestow on you?”

  “Well, I never thought of it that way…”

  “Of course you didn’t. Like all brides, you become selfish, self-centered, because you are

  so engrossed in your wedding preparations, that the groom becomes this forgotten other thing

  that you barely remember you’re supposed to do something with in some future date, something

  vague like walking down the aisle with him. That’s what I’m here for, sweetheart.” Hildegard

  patted her hand and signaled to the limousine. “I’m here to make sure that everything goes right,

  make sure that you do all the right things to make your fiancée proud of you, to make him smile

  with love and pride as he watches you walk down the aisle towards him, towards your future

  with him. Now, what do you think he’s going to think when he sees you in your wedding dress

  and the faded veil?”

  Roberta blinked. “I had hoped that he will think that I will make him happy…” “He will, but not if you wear that dress. You know what he will think if he sees you

  walking down the aisle in that used dress?”

  Roberta felt that feeling again in the pit of her stomach. “What?” she asked, dreading the

  answer.

  “He’s going to think that you didn’t think enough about him and everything he’s about to

  shower on you to buy a new dress, a dress of your own for your own wedding, but that you

  borrowed someone else’s wedding dress to wear in yours and his, a dress that was bought for

  wedding that happened over thirty years ago. Now, how do you think that’s going to make him

  feel?”

  Roberta croaked feebly, “Unappreciated?”

  “Exactly. He’s going to think that you do not appreciate what he’s done for you, and what

  he’s going to be doing for you. Now, what would a perfect fiancée do for her groom?” “Go and buy the most beautiful, the most expensive wedding dress there is?” Hildegard patted her on the shoulder. “Now you’re talking. By the way, the dressmaker is

  Vera Wang. Heron had her flown up from Los Angeles in his private jet. She only has a few

  hours before she has to fly to New York to fit Donald Trump’s wife for a dress. So, we must

  dash.”

  As the limousine swept them through the San Francisco traffic, Roberta reflected that she

  was getting better at losing these small skirmishes with Hildegard.

  Still, a few days later, while having dinner at the revolving restaurant atop the Hilton

  Hotel with Heron, she tried to broach the subject of the growing extravagance of the wedding. “I mean, Heron, it’s going be a beautiful dress that Vera will make for me, but the

  price…”

  Heron was buttering his bread. “Why are you concerned about the price?” “It’s a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar dress. And I’m only going to wear it one

  day. Don’t you think that’s excessive?”

  He smiled down at her with amusement. “That’s what first attract
ed me about you. You

  forget about the money.”

  “But, I’m not forgetting about the money. How can I, when the budget of this wedding is

  reaching the proportion of some dictatorship of a minor Latin country.”

  “You’re not going to break the bank. Believe me.”

  “But do we really need to spend so much money? On everything. I mean, I was perfectly

  happy with wearing my mother’s wedding dress. But Hildegard said that wouldn’t do at all.” “She’s right.”

  Roberta’s face deflated a little. “She is?”

  “This wedding is important to a lot of people, especially to me and my family, my

  relatives, my friends. A lot is going to be expected from this wedding. There’s going to be a lot

  of publicity surrounding it. There already is. It’s the talk of the town. What do you think all these

  people are going to think when the photographers snap you in a dress that was your mother’s,

  which she wore to her own wedding a few decades ago?”

  “I would think that most people would think it romantic, as I do.”

  “I’m afraid most people aren’t like you, at least to those who will be watching closely.

  They’re going to think a lot of things, and a lot of it not good.”

  “Is it really important to you what others think of us?”

  Heron gave a smile that was half tolerant, half amusing. “When you’re in my position,

  and when you’re from a family like mine, I’m afraid we have to be careful, especially when

  we’re in the public eye.” He put a large hand over hers. “Come on, darling. It’ll be over soon.” Roberta forced a smile and nodded, then reached for her red wine and gulped. A few days later, around five-thirty in the evening, Tanner happened to be walking past her office, its door open, when he stopped. Roberta’s head was resting on top of her arms which

  were folded on the desk.

  “Hey, pretty lady, go home and sleep. You’re going to get a crick in your neck if you fall

  asleep like that.”

  She lifted her face, which was very pale with exhaustion, and her sunny blond hair was

  coming loose from its chignon, making her look unusually disheveled, emphasizing the desperate

  look on her face. Tanner became alarmed when he saw the paleness of her face and the fear

  lurking in the blue depths of her heavy eyes and her trembling lips.

  He quickly stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. “Hey, hey, hey, are

  you alright? What happened?”

  Roberta shook her head and started to babble. “I can’t take this anymore, Tan. I can’t take

  it anymore. It’s all too much. And that woman, she’s making me a nervous wreck. And

  sometimes I think she’s doing it on purpose.”

  Even more concerned when he heard her voice break, Tanner went around the desk and

  pulled her to her feet. He sat on the desk and pulled her into his arms. “Shhh, shhhhhh,” he

  crooned, stroking her bright blond hair and began to rock her. “Come one, Robbie, tell big

  brother all about it. Tell me what’s happened. Okay? It’ll make you feel better, if you do.” Her thin shoulders began to shake as she started to cry. “We…we just came from the

  florist, you know to pick the flowers for the wedding. It was awful, Tanner. I never knew looking

  at flowers could be a nightmare. But she had me looked at thousands of pages of arrangements.

  And, I swear, they all looked the same.” She lifted a teary eye to him. “They did, they did. And I

  had to choose one. And I didn’t know which one to choose, because I was so afraid that I might

  choose the wrong one, and then I would embarrass Heron and you and your parents, and all your

  friends and family, and then my parents and sister and friends would be embarrassed for

  me…Oh, God, Tan, it was just horrible. Just horrible.” She hid her face in Tanner’s shoulders

  and sobbed for a moment, before she could continue. “And then she…”

  “Who’s she?” Tanner asked.

  “Hildegard, the Nazi…the wedding planner. She and the owner argued for five hours

  about this shade of red and that shade of red, and if we should have hollies with roses or

  poinsettias, or white roses or white gardenias, and if baby’s breath would be too weak to make a statement. And I have no idea what that statement is. And when the florist suggested that white carnations would be elegant with red roses, Hildegard slapped her with a clipboard, and now the florist is suing her for injury…And before the florist, we interviewed bands for the wedding. And you know what they all played? Polkas. Polkas. Now, how did Hildegard ever get the idea that I wanted polkas being played at my wedding reception? Perhaps it’s because she knew that Heron has fondness for polkas. Do you know if your brother is harboring a secret passion for polkas?

  Because I don’t.”

  Tanner couldn’t prevent the laughter that escaped his lips. “No, I don’t believe that my

  brother is hiding such a secrete.” He pulled Roberta closer, who started to shiver. “Shhhh, shhhh.

  There, there, now. It’s all over.”

  She lifted blue eyes that were drenched with distress up to him again. “But, that’s just it,

  Tanner. It’s not over. It’ll start up all over again, tomorrow. Hildegard is going to come down

  here, at nine o’clock in the morning.”

  “You’ll be in a meeting with marketing, then.”

  “That doesn’t matter to her. Nothing stands in the way of Hildegard. She’ll just come

  barging into the meeting and escort me out into the limousine. And I can’t go with her tomorrow,

  Tanner. I can’t. I can’t. I have all these reports that I need to get done. And I have to meet with

  your father tomorrow afternoon…And I need to rest. Did you know I haven’t been able to sleep

  in two weeks. I don’t think I’ve closed my eyes for longer than five minutes since then. And I

  can’t seem to eat anymore.”

  “Okay, honey. Everything’s going to be alright.” While crooning soothing words, and

  keeping one arm around Roberta’s shaking shoulders, Tanner grabbed her jacket and purse. “I

  know what you need, darling. And I’m going to take you there, right now, okay?” Feeling infinitely comforted by the strong arms and the warm male body, Roberta let

  Tanner lead out of her office. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Somewhere where it’s safe and warm, and where people love you and aren’t expecting

  you to perform colossal feats.”

  “You promise,” Roberta begged pitifully.

  “I promise.”

  Three hours later, Roberta was sitting at the bar in her sister’s bar, digging hungrily into a

  plate of seafood linguini in lemon and white wine sauce, while her parents sat next to her, watching her with concern. Tanner was sitting on the other side of her, enjoying his own plate of brined pork medallions with chili, apple, and pear chutney, herbed rice pilaf,, and butter and

  garlic sautéed baby vegetables.

  Riley was behind the bar, pouring wine to her family and Tanner. It was close to nine

  o’clock at night, past the dinner hour so there were only a few diners, and a straggle of regular

  patrons at around the bar who had dropped in for drinks after work.

  Besides a bar and dance club with the impromptu a sex club on the side, Riley’s

  establishment was also an excellent restaurant, one that served food that rivaled any five-star

  restaurant. This aspect of the bar was not well known to the public for a couple of reasons. The

  first was that Riley didn’t bother to advertise on any aspect of her place, and two, the chef wasn’t

  even
a trained chef, and was barely in his twenties, tattooed all over his body except for his neck

  and head, sported a Mohawk that was currently died a shocking blue. He had little interest or

  ambition to further his job into a more flamboyant career of a professional chef. But he poured

  over cookbook after cookbook and liked to use the small kitchen behind the bar as his own

  laboratory. Mostly he cooked by instinct, having a natural affinity for food.

  Caroline rubbed Roberta’s shoulders, relieved that the frightening ashen color was gone

  from her face. “Are you feeling better, honey?”

  Roberta pushed her empty bowl away and patted her full stomach, looking and feeling

  well fed, well satisfied. “Oh, much better. That was so good, Riles. Thank you. And, thank you,

  for bringing me here. You were so right. It was just what I needed.” This she said to Tanner,

  planting a kiss on his cheek.

  Tanner smiled. “Well, I had to do something, perform this miracle triage, before we lost

  you completely.”

  Roberta stretched like an elegant cat in her bar stool. “Well, it worked. And, now, I’m

  energized, enervated, revived, and I’m ready to go back and face the battle, again.” “Why don’t you stay over at the house tonight, honey,” Lawrence offered, still

  remembering the pale, frightened look on her face when he first saw her tonight. “Thanks, Dad, but I have a meeting tomorrow morning, and then I have to meet the

  wedding nazi at noon about the tables and chairs for the reception.”

  “I think it might be a good idea if you took a few days off, Robbie,” Tanner said, sipping

  his wine.

  Caroline nodded. “He’s right, Robbie. This whole wedding has obviously taken quite a

  toll on you. And, remember, I’ve witnessed at first hand, your wedding Nazi…Uh, planner, that

  is. So, I know exactly what you’re going through.”

  “You need to tell Heron that you want to cut the wedding down to half its size,” Tanner

  said.

  “I agree,” Lawrence said emphatically. “Having a thousand guests is ridiculous. Who

  knows a thousand people in one lifetime, for God’s sake?”

  “I can’t do that. This is too important to Heron.”

  Tanner pointed out, “Well, is he marrying you or those one thousand people?” Caroline said fretfully, “I think what you really need, darling, is a few days of rest. Come