A toilet flushed, and Patsy, one of the girls from accounting, emerged from the stall. She looked from Annajane to Celia and scurried out of the bathroom without even stopping to wash her hands.
Grateful for a reprieve, Annajane ducked into the stall. The toilet next to hers flushed, and she watched while a set of cheerful red ballet flats walked out of the stall. She heard water running, and then the sound of the bathroom door closing. She waited for another two minutes, just to make sure the coast was clear, before emerging.
Her heart sank when she saw Celia, standing at the mirror, fully made up, an odd, fixed smile on her face.
Annajane stood at the sink and washed and dried her hands. She stepped past Celia and reached for the door handle, but Celia neatly stepped sideways, effectively blocking her exit. “Excuse me,” Annajane said.
“I’ll only take a moment of your precious time,” Celia said. “And then I’ll let you get back to packing up your shit and getting the hell out of this company.”
“This is not happening to me,” Annajane muttered. She reached for the door again, but Celia slapped her hand away.
“Oh, honey, it is happening,” Celia said. “So you better pay attention. Because I need to have a few words with you.”
“Whatever,” Annajane said. “What’s on your mind, Celia?”
“You are on my mind,” Celia said, poking her index finger into Annajane’s clavicle. “Every time I turn around, Annajane Hudgens, there you are. At my wedding,” she poked Annajane. “In the ambulance on the way to the hospital.” Another poke. “At the freakin’ hospital.” Yet another poke. “Fucking my fiancé in a fucking cornfield. And, oh yes, at a restaurant, last night. Did you think I wouldn’t find out about that?” She poked Annajane again. “Did you?”
Annajane caught Celia’s hand roughly. “Do. Not. Touch. Me,” she said. “Ever.” She squeezed Celia’s fingers together tightly and then released.
Celia laughed. “You have been messing with Mason’s mind for months now. Making an exhibition of yourself. The whole town is laughing at you. Yeah. But that ends right now. I saw the two of you talking out in the parking lot this morning. Very touching. Heartbreaking, almost. Was he telling you good-bye? Did he mention that we’ve rescheduled the wedding for tomorrow?”
A wedding? Saturday? Annajane felt as though she’d been slapped across the face, but she would not give Celia the satisfaction of registering her shock.
“No,” she said lightly. “He didn’t get around to a wedding announcement. But he did tell me that last night he slept on the floor of the lake house, with the raccoons and the pigeon poop and the mildew and the roaches, rather than share a bed with you.”
“Don’t kid yourself that he’s had a change of heart, Annajane dear. One little night apart won’t hurt me. Because he’ll be sharing my bed for years and years to come,” Celia gloated. She stepped aside and held the bathroom door open with a flourish. “And don’t bother to wait on an invitation to the wedding. This time, it’s strictly a private family affair.”
35
“Voncile,” Celia said, walking into Mason’s outer office. Her voice dripped saccharine. “Don’t you look nice today? I love that shade of chocolate on you. So flattering with your coloring.”
Mason’s assistant looked up at Celia. “Thank you,” she said, preening just a little, patting her hair and straightening the collar of her blouse. “You look nice, too. But I’m afraid Mason asked me to tell people he can’t be interrupted today. He’s trying to catch up on work.”
“Actually, I came in here to speak to you,” Celia said. She perched on the edge of the chair opposite Voncile’s. “I’m so excited,” Celia confided. “We’ve rescheduled the wedding for tomorrow.”
“Congratulations,” Voncile said politely.
This traitorous Bible-thumping cow will be the first to go after we get back from the honeymoon, Celia told herself. Mason needed a younger, smarter, more attractive woman for an administrative assistant. Although … not too much younger. And not much more attractive. At least he could find somebody with two years of college, for God’s sake. Mason might put up a little resistance, but after he realized how much more time he would have for his personal life, once the office was running efficiently, he would be grateful for her input.
“But I need your help,” Celia said. “I have a million things to do to get ready by tomorrow and we don’t want Mason to be bothered with the trivial details of a wedding, do we?”
“Well,” Voncile said, reluctantly.
“Fine,” Celia said. “I’ll e-mail you the checklist. It’s nothing really. We’ve already gotten the marriage license, of course. We’re just going to have a very small, private ceremony, at Cherry Hill. Very cozy. So I’ll need you to line us up a justice of the peace, and then you can call the florist and arrange for flowers. I’ve sent you a detailed memo about the flowers, so don’t let them talk you into some tacky daisy and carnation horror. And talk to the caterer from the country club, see if they’ll just do some nice appetizers and deliver them to the house. And wine, we’ll need some champagne—I doubt if Sallie has anything decent at her house, so I need you to go to that nice wine shop over in Southern Pines. Get a couple bottles of Vueve Clicquot, and maybe a nice red. I’ll research it and e-mail you what we need…”
Voncile had been dutifully scribbling notes, but now she put down her pen. “No ma’am,” she said.
“Excuse me?” Celia said, staring.
“I am a godly woman. A deaconess. I’ve never set foot in a liquor store in my life,” Voncile said. “And I’m not starting now.”
“Oh, Voncile, of course you don’t have to go into the store,” Celia said sweetly. “I’ll arrange to have them bring it out and put it in your car. All right? They can put it in your trunk so you don’t even have to look at it.”
“Well,” Voncile said, not convinced. “What if somebody saw those men putting liquor in the trunk? I have people in Southern Pines. It wouldn’t look right.”
Celia narrowed her eyes. “Voncile, I really, really need you to do this. I’m sure Mason will be happy to give you a little time off so you can drive over there to pick it up for our wedding. And of course, we’ll pay for your gas and mileage.”
“All right,” Voncile said reluctantly. She’d been outmanuevered and she knew it. “Since this is for your wedding, I will make an exception this one time.”
“Fine!” Celia said brightly. “It will mean a lot to Mason to know you’re doing this for our special day. And you’ll let me know right away, won’t you, as soon as you’ve lined up the justice of the peace?” She gave a self-satisfied little smile. “Since you work so closely with Mason, I guess it won’t hurt to let you in on a little secret. I’m expecting! And I want the ceremony done before I start to show.”
Voncile’s expression remained wooden. “Yes, ma’am.”
Gone, Celia told herself, as she hurried back to her office. That woman is so gone.
She sat down behind her desk and went back to the list she’d been working on. Flowers. A bouquet for herself, something elegant but understated to go with the dress she’d actually intended to wear to the wedding reception before the church wedding was postponed. A boutonniere for Mason, and a corsage for Sallie, of course. Sophie? Definitely not. She wouldn’t give the little brat a second chance at spoiling Celia’s big moment.
Her cell phone rang, and she picked it up and answered without a second thought.
“Well hey, Lil’ Sissy,” a familiar voice said. “Long time, no talk to.”
“Veronica? How the hell did you get this number?”
Her older sister laughed unpleasantly. “Our dear cousin Mallery gave it to me. Wasn’t that thoughtful? She called me last week because Aunt Eleanor is in a bad way, and she just happened to mention that dear old Aunt Ellie had gone down to North Carolina to see you get married. Funny thing. I guess my invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”