Page 55 of Original Sin

‘Well?’ asked Meredith, looking at her daughters. ‘What did you think?’

‘I thought he was fabulous,’ said Liz, striding towards the window and looking out in the darkness. ‘What are we waiting for? Guillaume is the best at what he does.’

Brooke gave a nervous laugh. ‘But one thousand five hundred man–hours to make my dress? I’ll have to put back the date of the wedding.’

‘But darling, it will be worth it,’ said Meredith.

Brooke held up one hand.

‘Hold on, Mother, I thought this was just a conversation with Guillaume. We can talk to other people, right?’ She looked over at Liz for support, but she was staring out of the window, her arms folded. ‘David’s mother thinks we should go for a American designer like Vera Wang or Oscar de la Renta.’

Meredith laughed tartly. ‘Speaks she who is dressed head to toe in Chanel couture.’

‘But an American couturier would be easier from a time point of view.’ She had already done a quick mental calculation, the thrill of her first couture gown giving way to drab practicalities. Four fittings, each one taking two or three days, not to mention the travel there and back: how was she supposed to fit in her working life at Yellow Door? They had two weeks’ holiday a year, and that had already been stretched like elastic. She had a vision of Mimi Hall having a full–on hissy fit and winced. ‘Just go with Guillaume, for goodness’ sake,’ said Liz, one hand distractedly playing with short blonde hair in the window’s reflection.

Brooke looked at her sister with irritation. They had never been particularly close; growing up, Liz had always made Brooke feel that she was at best an annoyance, at worst a complete irrelevance. Brooke wanted to point out that it was her wedding dress, but Liz had that ‘do not mess with me or I will bite your head off’ expression.

‘And why are you so sure?’ she said tactfully instead.

Liz went over to the drinks cabinet and began to pour herself a shot of vodka. She looked up and Brooke noticed Liz and her mother exchange a look.

‘Because commissioning Guillaume isn’t necessarily just about your wedding dress.’

‘Now then Elizabeth,’ said Meredith warily, ‘this isn’t the time or place.’

‘What else can it be about?’ asked Brooke with surprise. Liz took a sip of her drink and looked over at Brooke.

‘Don’t be so naive, Brooke,’ she said. ‘If Guillaume makes your dress it’s good news for the company. Asgill’s have been negotiating with Pierre Follet, Guillaume’s business manager for months about getting the licence to manufacture a fragrance for them. Riche pour Femme, Riche pour Homme. Frankly it’s amazing he hasn’t done a fragrance already. You could put Guillaume’s name on a bottle of cat–piss and it would sell through the roof, especially in Europe. So commissioning Guillaume to design your dress is Asgill’s chance to secure the licence. Perhaps make it a condition.’

‘Is this what my wedding is for you?’ said Brooke incredulously. ‘A business deal?’

Liz looked unmoved and her coldness just upset Brooke all the more.

‘It’s not just about you all the time, Brooke,’ she said. ‘You have to think about the family. We can’t let business opportunities pass us by, not in this climate. Guillaume Riche is big deal in Europe, but designing your dress will make him a huge name in the States too. He knows that, and that’s why I want to go back to Pierre Follet and try and hammer out some initial agreement before we officially commission him to do the dress.’

Brooke looked at her mother. ‘Mom, help me out here … ’

‘Brooke,’ she said soothingly. ‘It’s only a dress.’

Her skin burned hot. ‘Only a dress!’ This is my wedding dress!’

‘Now you know I didn’t mean it like that,’ said Meredith, coming over to hold Brooke’s shoulders. ‘What I mean is that Guillaume is one of the best designers in the world: why not have him design your dress? I saw how excited you were to come and meet him and, if you like what he does, then Liz’s idea is just a bonus. The dress is still the important thing.’

She looked at her mother, feeling betrayed. She wasn’t a fool. Her mother had barely stopped smiling since her engagement to David. Brooke was aware that the alliance between the two families was a fantastic social and financial opportunity for both her mother and the Asgill Cosmetics brand, but she had hoped that what would matter most to Meredith was that her child was happy. It was her wedding day; Brooke wanted to feel like a princess, not a pawn.

She thought of the afternoon she’d imagined together at the Carita spa and felt foolish. ‘So I suppose this girls’ weekend was just a ruse for Liz to meet Guillaume and position herself?’ she said, her eyes filling up with tears.

‘Now don’t be silly, Brooke,’ she said, stroking her daughter’s arms. ‘This is your special time, but you can’t blame Liz for wanting to take advantage of a situation. It’s all for the family, after all.’

‘Just think of it as your turn to do something for the family business,’ said Liz with a small triumphant smile.

Brooke walked over to the table and snatched up a glass of champagne, drinking it down. She glanced across at her mother and sister, who were still staring at her with a mixture of annoyance and pity. Was she being selfish? Perhaps, but she was still furious at the way they had planned all this without having the courtesy, the respect for her intelligence, to consult her, to explain the business situation. That was what hurt. They still saw her as some flighty, soft–brained socialite who couldn?

??t be trusted with such sensitive information.

‘Brooke, honey. At least think about it,’ said Meredith. ‘This is a win–win situation for everyone.’

Not quite everyone, thought Brooke, striding over to her bedroom and closing the door shut.