Chapter 3
Violet looked shocked when Felicity told her she and Taylor were engaged and stared at
her long and hard.
“Are you serious?” It was the same thing Felicity had asked Taylor when he’d
proposed to her. Something about it didn’t seem real, and Felicity was so quiet about it
that Violet thought she was kidding at first.
“Of course,” Felicity said, annoyed. “I wouldn’t joke about it. Why did you say
that?”
“Because you never seem that interested in marriage. I thought you were more
interested in your work. What changed?” Violet always got right to the point.
“He asked me. He proposed. He gave me his mother’s ring.” She still hadn’t worn it
again, and kept the ring in its box in a drawer. It still triggered too many painful
memories of his raping her.
“I’m not sure that’s a good reason, or enough of a reason,” Violet said precisely.
“It’s nice that he’s serious about you, if that’s what you want. But just because he
chooses you doesn’t mean he deserves you. He’s a lucky guy if you marry him. How did
he ask you?” Violet smiled at her sister as she asked the question. “Did he get down on
one knee and do the whole old-school thing?” He seemed like the type, and Violet could
easily imagine it, but not how it had really happened, and Felicity didn’t tell her the
truth.
“Sort of. We had dinner at his parents’, and he asked me when we got home
afterward. He had his mother’s ring and put it on my finger.” Violet looked interested by
that.
“Let’s see it. Where is it?” They were at their mother’s house for dinner and Violet
glanced at her hands. There was no sign of it on Felicity’s finger.
“I don’t want to wear it while I work and get paint on it,” she explained.
“Is it pretty?”
“It’s very traditional, it’s a sapphire with diamonds on either side.”
“Sounds nice.” Violet could tell her sister wasn’t excited, and she wondered why. If
she wasn’t, why get engaged? Violet had no interest in marriage herself. “What does it
feel like? Are you excited or scared to death?” Violet asked her.
“Both. I didn’t expect him to ask me. It was a big surprise. I’ve been concentrating
on my show in June. The engagement doesn’t feel real yet.”
“Are you going to have a long engagement?”
“I hope so. I don’t know. He’s ready, but he’s five years older than I am. His career
is on track. I’m still struggling to make a name for myself. He’s ready for kids, I’m not.
We still have stuff to work out,” Felicity said vaguely. They hadn’t had sex again since
the night of the proposal. She still had to get over that, which Taylor was well aware of.
He had tried a few times and was patient about it. He was still sleeping on the couch,
but it had only been a few days since he raped her. She never said the word, but it hung
between them like an iron curtain. She needed time to find her way back.
“Kids are a huge deal. I don’t think I want any.” Violet had said it before so Felicity
wasn’t surprised. “And I’m not sure how I feel about marriage. I think our grandmother
got that right. They never married, which seems more romantic to me. I don’t need all
the traditions and a big dress to prove I love someone. When Bonne Mamie talks about
our grandfather, she looks so in love, she’s as much in love with him as she was sixty
years ago. Maybe not being married keeps it fresh and getting married kills it. All my
friends’ parents are divorced,” she said, matter-of-factly. “And the statistics aren’t
encouraging. I can’t see the point. I don’t mean to steal your thunder, if it’s right for you,
it’s great. I just don’t think it’s for me. If Jamie asked me now, I’d turn him down. I
might feel differently later, but not now. I can’t even imagine it. It’s too much fun not
being married. I wouldn’t want anything to spoil that.” Violet and her siblings all called
their grandmother Bonne Mamie, the traditional name for grandmother in French.
“Me neither,” Felicity said with a sigh. “I’m still thinking about it. It’s a lot to
absorb at once.” Violet nodded, sorry for her sister. She looked more troubled and
anxious than ecstatic, and Violet could understand why. It would have panicked her if it
happened to her, and she didn’t envy her sister. It was a huge step, blindfolded, into the
future, in Violet’s opinion.
“So when’s the wedding?” she asked, as their mother walked into the kitchen and
heard the question. Dominique had just arrived from the office after a long day.
“The Whitfields want a June wedding,” Dominique answered for her. “I invited them
to dinner next week, the night before Thanksgiving. They sound like they want a big
splashy affair.” Dominique poured herself a glass of cold white wine from the fridge.
Felicity looked pale. “I thought we should get together and hear what everyone has in
mind. Taylor’s mother seems to have some very definite ideas. They want the wedding
in June,” she repeated.
“I have my show then,” Felicity said, looking panicked.
“That’s why I thought we should meet with the Whitfields and talk. You’re welcome
too, of course,” she said to Violet, who looked awkward for a minute.
“I was going to call you about that,” she said. “Jamie invited me to Boston for
Thanksgiving. His family is kind of big and crazy and fun, but I didn’t know if you’d be
upset if I go. I won’t if you want me here.” It was the first time either of the girls had
other plans for Thanksgiving. Tommy alternated with his in-laws, which Dominique
expected now that he was married, but she didn’t expect it from the girls, since they
were both single.
“If it’s important to you, it’s fine if you go,” Dominique said, trying not to show that
she was sad about it. She didn’t want to interfere with their lives. But it was definitely a
new phase if the girls were making other plans for holidays now. And if Felicity was
getting married, the time was not far off when Dominique would be alone for holidays.
Bill spent his with his family, although he usually dropped by at some point in the day,
during the Thanksgiving weekend, when he could get away. And they always went on
vacation together after Christmas. But Violet not coming home for Thanksgiving was the
next big change.
“It’s not important to me,” Violet was quick to clarify. “It just sounded like fun. His
family is pretty lively.” It wouldn’t be the traditional elegant Thanksgiving dinner her
mother had catered, with all three of them formally dressed. According to Jamie, it
would be crazy and chaotic, which appealed to her for a change.
“I’ll be here with you, Mom,” Felicity said, stepping into the breach.
“You won’t be with the Whitfields?” Dominique asked, bracing herself for the
response.
“I told Taylor I wanted to be home with you. He’ll have lunch with his parents, and
I’ll see him afterward, the way we’ve done till now.”
The three of them had dinner in the kitchen. They made a salad, and there was a roast
chicken in the fridge that the housekeeper had prepared for them. They bantered about
the wedding, and Felicity said very little. Her mother found her subdued, and Violet
questioned her about it later, when they shared a cab to go back downtown from their
mother’s house.
“Are you okay about the wedding?” Violet asked her gently. “You’re very quiet
about it.”
“I’m just surprised. That’s all. I wasn’t expecting him to propose.” Or to rape her
when she hesitated.
“It’s okay to say no, if you’re not ready,” Violet said. It was obvious to her that her
sister was afraid. Felicity nodded, looking out the window and trying not to remember
the night he proposed. She couldn’t even tell her sister about it. Violet was always much
bolder and it wouldn’t frighten her to turn down a proposal. Felicity didn’t want to lose
Taylor if she said no. She loved him, she just didn’t want to be married yet. “Forever
seems like such a long time,” Felicity said.
“I don’t think I could ever do that,” Violet said. “I’m going to follow in our
grandmother’s footsteps and never marry. That’s more my style,” and she wasn’t afraid
to admit it. Violet was outspoken and honest and always true to herself.
“What about Jamie? Are you in love with him?” Felicity asked, curious. She felt
wide open and vulnerable.
“I think I am. Now. But who knows in ten years, or even two? I love my life the way
it is right now. I love my work, I love him, and I love my freedom to do what I want,
without worrying if it works for someone else, or God forbid, being told what to do by
some guy who doesn’t like my plans. I’d be a terrible wife,” Violet said with
conviction, “and I can’t cook.”
“Neither can I,” Felicity said, and they both laughed as the cab sped toward SoHo,
and Felicity tried not to think of the wedding everyone was about to plan for them, let
alone the man waiting for her at her apartment. The man who had raped her. She felt as
though she was being swept along by riptides down a rushing river and she had no
control over her own destiny. It was terrifying, and she felt sick every time she thought
of it.
Felicity and Taylor had made love again, cautiously, but that bridge had been crossed.
The rape was forgiven, not forgotten but tentatively put on a shelf so they could go
forward by the time he and his parents came to dinner at Dominique’s house the night
before Thanksgiving. Violet had left for Boston with Jamie that morning, and Dominique
and Felicity were going to have a quiet Thanksgiving dinner, just the two of them, and
work on wedding plans.
The Whitfields were impressed when they saw the elegance of Dominique’s home.
Marie-Aurélie had given her several important paintings over the years and she had
bought a few of her own. There was a graceful stairway leading to the second floor,
where she and Felicity were waiting for Taylor and his parents. It made Felicity feel
like a child again, and as though they were going to be scolded by their parents, or the
rules were going to be laid down for them. She was nervous and she could see that
Taylor was uneasy too. At thirty-seven, he wasn’t used to dealing with anyone else’s
parents. Dominique had always been pleasant to him when they met, but he wasn’t sure
that she approved of him for her daughter, and he knew that his own parents were
critical of her, at least his mother was. But all assumptions that she was bohemian in her
lifestyle, because she was French and a designer, went out the window when the
Whitfields saw her home, and the museum quality of the antiques and art. This was
where Felicity had grown up. Everything around them was of the finest provenance.
Dominique greeted them graciously. She had hired the first-rate chef and catering
team she used when she entertained. She gave frequent small dinner parties for select
friends, many of them famous and former clients. They felt safe in her extremely discreet
environment, and her most important clients often became friends when she designed
their wedding dresses or their daughters’.
Elizabeth Whitfield was looking around unabashedly as she accepted a glass of
champagne from the butler, and Phillip asked for his usual Scotch on the rocks, a
double. Felicity and Taylor chatted quietly, while Dominique made small talk to make
his parents feel welcome. She saw Phillip bend closer to a small Degas painting to
check that it was what he thought it was, and Dominique pretended not to notice. They
sat down on two small comfortable couches in front of the fireplace, which was lit and
added warmth and charm to the handsome room.
“So, we have a wedding to plan.” Dominique smiled at them. She was wearing slim
black velvet pants and a cream-colored satin blouse, with two long ropes of pearls, and
she looked like a page in Vogue. Felicity had worn a simple short black dress that
showed off her legs. Elizabeth had commented several times in the past that Felicity
wore her skirts too short. Taylor’s mother was wearing a black suit that looked severe
and her gray hair in a tight bun. She had noticed that Felicity was wearing her
engagement ring, and was turning it nervously around her finger. And Elizabeth jumped
right in, once the subject was touched on.
“The dates we’re considering are June sixth and twentieth. There’s no need to tempt
fate having a wedding on the thirteenth. The sixth is our anniversary, and Taylor agrees
with us that it would be meaningful to do it on that date.” Felicity looked instantly
panicked when she said it, and spoke up quickly.
“My show opens on the sixth. I can’t do that.”
Dominique nodded. She knew it the moment Elizabeth said the dates.
“Just tell them to move it to another date,” Taylor said easily. It didn’t sound like a
big problem to him.
“They’re the most important gallery in New York, it’s a huge honor that they’re
willing to show my work. They have a two-year show schedule set in stone, and it was
just blind luck and incredibly nice of them to find a way to fit me in. The opening
cocktail party is the night before. I can’t do the sixth, it would have to be the twentieth.”
Elizabeth’s lips pursed and she took a sip of her champagne.
“And it’ll be nice for them to have their own anniversary,” Dominique said to soothe
the awkward moment. “I’ve had two ideas for location, but it will depend on how big a
wedding Felicity and Taylor have in mind,” Dominique said easily, to move past the
date issue.
“I’ve been looking over our list,” Elizabeth said officiously. “We have at least two
hundred people who are an absolute must on our side. We can’t cut that down. We’ve
been to all their children’s weddings. You must have a long list too, and Taylor and
Felicity will have their friends. I think we’re talking about at least four hundred guests,
possibly more,” Elizabeth said, looking at Dominique intently, who glanced at her
daughter and saw the imperceptible shake of her head. Taylor was smiling. Four
hundred sounded good to him. He loved a good party.
“Maybe five,” he said. “Big weddings are always more fun.” Felicity didn’t look as
though she agreed with him, and spoke up in a gentle voice.
“I think five hundred would be too big. We won’t get to talk to half the people there.
The bride and groom always look harassed at big weddings, not to mention the
expense.” Dominique was well aware that so far the Whitfields had not offered to share
the expenses. Traditionally, the bride’s family paid for everything, and the groom’s only
footed the bill for the rehearsal dinner. But in recent years, with wedding expenses
easily reaching six figures, and sometimes seven, the groom’s parents often pitched in.
Dominique didn’t plan to ask them to contribute. She wondered if they would. So far, all
they had to say was that they expected a big wedding, and had two hundred guests of
their own, without asking if Dominique was okay with it, or waiting to hear Felicity’s
vision of her wedding, and she was shy with them. Her future mother-in-law was so
aggressive with her opinions and Felicity already sensed that she didn’t approve of her,
and hadn’t since the first time they met. Elizabeth hadn’t softened toward her. And
seeing Dominique’s home, she could easily see that Dominique could afford the very
biggest, most lavish wedding, which would indirectly improve the Whitfields’ social
status. It was plainly visible that whether earned or inherited, Dominique Dupont had a
lot of money. Her home and even her appearance confirmed it, which Elizabeth didn’t
mind at all. She was all for showing off at certain times, and a wedding was one of
them.
“I think two hundred people would be warmer, and more manageable,” Felicity said
softly. She felt outweighed and outranked by the Whitfields. Elizabeth Whitfield looked
instantly annoyed by Felicity’s timid comment. Elizabeth was a force to be reckoned
with, and Taylor championed his mother. His father didn’t say a word.
“If my parents have two hundred guests for the list, then we’ll need at least double
that,” Taylor said firmly, and smiled at his parents, as Dominique artfully directed the
conversation to another area. She could discuss the number of guests with Felicity later.
“I’ve been thinking of a suitable venue, and I’ve had two ideas, since art is such an
important part of Felicity’s life, and we’re art lovers in our family. What about having
the reception in a wing of the Metropolitan Museum? That could be very dramatic, and
really beautiful, depending on which wing we choose. I’ve been to several weddings
there and they do a lovely job. Or the Frick, which would be exquisite. Their capacity
would be smaller, more like what Felicity has in mind, although I don’t know the exact
numbers and haven’t checked it out yet. I think it’s probably fairly expensive, but it
would feel more like a private home, which it originally was. I went to a wedding there
years ago, I think the bride was related to the Fricks somehow, and it was one of the
most elegant weddings I’ve ever been to. The art is amazing.” Elizabeth looked pleased
with the suggestions. Clearly, Dominique was planning to go all out for her daughter’s
wedding, at a social level Elizabeth felt was worthy of the Whitfields.
Phillip was on his second double Scotch by then, and wasn’t paying attention to the
exchange. He didn’t enjoy weddings, and whatever they decided suited him, as long as
he didn’t have to pay for it. He was delighted he had a son and not a daughter. And they
had already agreed that the rehearsal dinner would be at his club, which wouldn’t be
expensive. The food wouldn’t be exotic or extraordinary, it would all be very standard,
at a price he could live with. The heavy lifting would fall to Dominique for the actual
wedding. He and Elizabeth had already agreed that the wedding reception wasn’t their
problem. Dominique could tell. Felicity didn’t want her wedding to cost her mother a
fortune, it wasn’t fair. She listened raptly to her mother’s suggestions, and both museum
ideas sounded beautiful to her. “I’ll price them out next week,” Dominique was saying,
and she made several notes. Once they decided on the venue,
she would do a walkthrough with her florist. She was well-versed in big events,
and intended to organize most of it herself, without a wedding planner,
which would be a major saving, and Felicity could help.
The conversation went on through dinner, and the chef had prepared a delicious
meal. The caterers served a very fine French wine, and by the time they left, Felicity
looked exhausted. Taylor left with his parents, since he was staying with them that night,
to have the holiday with them, and Felicity had agreed to stay at her mother’s. It felt odd
saying good night to him, since they lived together, but Felicity didn’t want her mother
to be alone on Thanksgiving, since Violet was away, and Bill only made cameo
appearances on holidays, and had his own family obligations.
Dominique collapsed on the couch and looked exhausted when they left, as she
turned to her daughter.
“So, you don’t want four hundred guests at the wedding, we saved your gallery show
date, and what else don’t you want? Your mother-in-law has some pretty big ideas,”
Dominique said, without mentioning specifically that they hadn’t offered to share any of
the expenses. Felicity had noticed it too.
“I wasn’t even thinking about a wedding when Taylor proposed to me,” she said,
looking at her mother. “I wanted to spend the next six months getting ready for my show.
Marriage didn’t even occur to me, and I wouldn’t mind waiting another year. But Taylor
got so upset when I mentioned it. I think his parents are putting the heat on him that he’s
thirty-seven and he should be thinking about marriage and kids.”
“And do you want kids now?” her mother asked her, and she shook her head without
hesitating.
“No, I don’t. Not yet. I’m not going to rush into that,” but Felicity did feel that Taylor
had cornered her into agreeing to marriage when she wasn’t ready, and he took it so
personally when she tried to suggest that they wait. He was mortally wounded at the
idea of a year’s delay. She had the feeling that Taylor’s parents were pushing the
marriage, especially now that they had seen her mother’s home. Materially, Taylor had
far more to gain from the marriage than Felicity did, and they were relieved to discover
that Dominique wasn’t the bohemian they had feared, even if she was French and her
parents hadn’t been married, a flaw in Felicity’s background they never let Taylor
forget.
Felicity felt rushed into a wedding the following June, but it seemed too difficult to
turn the tides and easier to go along with it. The June twentieth wedding date was a
given now, since her mother had defended her gallery show opening on the sixth.
Elizabeth Whitfield was superstitious about the thirteenth, which left the twentieth as the
date Felicity would become Taylor’s wife. She felt a nervous shiver run down her spine
when she thought about it and a knot in her stomach.
“What do you think about the museum ideas for the reception?” her mother asked her,
and Felicity smiled.
“I love those ideas,” and then she looked pained for a moment, she had something to
say to her mother, and didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “And, Mama, I know you would
make me a beautiful dress. I love your designs, but I want something different, simpler,
not really your style. I don’t want something elaborate with a long train. You make the
most beautiful wedding gowns in the world, but I want something really plain.”
Dominique looked startled, but she tried not to react. She wanted Felicity to have her
dream wedding, and she was gracious about it.
“Do you have a designer in mind?”
“I’m not sure.” She looked anxious and hopeful as her eyes met her mother’s. “Could
we go to Paris sometime and look?”
Dominique didn’t miss a beat, and she liked the idea of a trip with her daughter,
even if it meant she couldn’t design a wedding gown just for her. It was ironic. She
designed wedding dresses for the most important brides all over the world, from
princesses to movie stars, and her daughter didn’t want one of her creations. She would
wear a dress by a random designer on her wedding day. It was a blow to Dominique’s
ego and heart, but she didn’t let it show, and looked bland about it. Dominique thought
about it for a moment. “Why don’t we try to go sometime between now and Christmas?
Paris is so pretty then, and your grandmother will be thrilled to see us before the
holidays. We can do an early Christmas tea with her, or a fancy dinner, whichever she
prefers.” Felicity lit up at the mention of it. She loved her grandmother, and Violet did
too. Marie-Aurélie was open-minded, modern, and understanding, and always
interested in the new ideas her granddaughters shared with her. They had frank
conversations with her, and she was sometimes more forward-thinking and reasonable
than their mother, although they had altered Dominique’s points of view on many
subjects by then too. But their grandmother was sometimes easier to convince, and they
were fascinated by her stories and the treasure trove of memories she shared with them,
particularly about their grandfather and their love for each other. Violet and Felicity
were always sorry for her that her parents had been so rigid that they never saw her
again. They thought that was terrible, and Marie-Aurélie agreed with them, although she
said she had forgiven them, but not until much later. She looked peaceful when she said
it, and bore her parents no malice, although she had no warm memories of them.
On Thanksgiving Day, since they were alone, Felicity and Dominique had agreed to
share their Thanksgiving meal at lunchtime, and go to a movie that night. Even one
person missing from the table made a difference, and it felt more festive to do it a little
more informally, earlier in the day, and go out together in the late afternoon or evening,
rather than a formal Thanksgiving dinner for just the two of them.
After the delicious traditional meal served by the caterer, they put on jeans and heavy
sweaters and went to a movie they had both wanted to see and hadn’t had time for until
then. They had talked a little about the wedding over lunch, but more about Felicity’s
hopes and preparations for her gallery show in June. She had nothing more to say about
the wedding for now. The subject made her feel anxious whenever it came up.
Bill had called Dominique after lunch, and was sorry not to be able to come by. He
and Eileen had other guests at their Thanksgiving lunch, and he said he couldn’t get out,
but he promised to visit the next day for a drink before dinner. Felicity would have gone
back to her own apartment by then. Taylor was meeting her there. The holiday would be
over for them by lunchtime on Friday, but they had thoroughly enjoyed it, and
Dominique checked her datebook against Felicity’s before she left on Friday morning to
find a date for a trip to Paris to look for a dress. It sounded like a fun adventure to both
of them, and Dominique was looking forward to it. She loved spending time in Paris
with her daughters.
Felicity went back to her own apartment on Friday morning. She and Taylor were
planning to have dinner with friends. It had been a nice holiday spent with their
respective parents. Felicity and Dominique had picked a date for their Paris trip and
booked a flight, the week after Thanksgiving. Violet had called after they got home from
the movie. She said she was having fun in Boston, the Thanksgiving meal was warm and
friendly and unruly, which was very different from her mother’s more formal traditional
meal, and they had all gone skating together that night.
Dominique was sorry to see Felicity leave on Friday morning, but Dominique had
errands to do, and Bill came by late that afternoon, and it was nice having time alone
with him. He kissed her, and sat down comfortably on the couch nearest the fire, which
Dominique had lit before he arrived. The house looked warm and cozy and as elegant as
she was. He always felt as though he were meeting her in their private paradise. Her
home was a haven for him, as was their relationship. He felt at home the moment he
came through the door, and she sat down next to him and he put an arm around her and
told her that he’d had a nice time with his boys.
“How was it for you with Felicity?” he asked her, as he sipped the glass of his
favorite wine she’d poured for him. She always kept a few bottles on hand of the
Chateau Haut-Brion that he loved.
“We had a good day too.” She smiled at him. They were always so comfortable
together in their stolen moments. “I’m taking her to Paris to look for a wedding dress,”
she said, and he was surprised.
“You’re not designing one for her?”
She shook her head. “She wants something simpler. I could do that for her, but she
wants to pick it herself. Whatever makes her happy. She says she wants something very
plain.” He set down his glass and kissed her then. He was happy to see her. The holiday
meals Eileen organized were always stiff and cold. She didn’t have Dominique’s
magical knack to make people feel at home, and as though they were special. But he
loved being with his boys, who were full of their tales of college. Bill was very close
to them, and he liked Dominique’s children too.
He was always under her spell when he came to see her, and alone on Friday
afternoon, they disappeared into her bedroom and made love until he had to leave to go
home. He wanted to spend a little time with his sons before they went out with friends
that night. He only stayed for two hours, but Dominique was always grateful for the time
they shared, and they both felt a warm glow as he kissed her again passionately before
he left. Not being together all the time had kept their relationship fresh and exciting. She
was naked under a pale pink satin dressing gown when he left, still hungry for her and
sorry to leave.
“I wish I could stay,” he said to her in a whisper as he nuzzled her neck.
“Me too,” she whispered back. She was tantalizing in the satin dressing gown, with
the silk of her skin soft to his touch. She gently closed the door behind him, and went
back to lie on the bed where they had made love only minutes before. She was going to
be alone for the rest of the weekend. He would be back on Tuesday night, which was
how their relationship had run for sixteen years, in little bits and moments, passionate
visits, and warm, cozy evenings. He was the person she loved and trusted most, other
than her children. They got along so well, and sometimes she wondered if it was
because they spent so little time together. They always left each other hungry for more.
And yet he lived within the confines of his earlier commitments, imprisoned by his good
intentions, honor-bound to stay where he was. He no longer tormented himself or
Dominique with dreams of leaving one day. He accepted his situation as irreversible
now, and so did Dominique. He couldn’t change it without damaging everyone
involved. But beyond the bleak landscape of his home life were explosions of sunlight
and joy whenever he saw Dominique, held her in his arms, and made love to her. He
loved talking to her, and they both accepted the reality that they would never have more
than they did now. It made every moment precious, and they savored their time together.
Their relationship was a fine golden thread that bound them to each other, fragile as a
spider’s web, and solid as a rope that held them fast. She no longer hoped for more
from him, and told herself it was enough.
She answered some emails that night, watched a series she liked on TV, wrote some
letters, and made lists of things to check out for the wedding. She always found ways to
fill her nights and days until she saw him again. Bill was the love of her life, and she
was the light of his. It was how the days and the years had silently slipped past them for
sixteen years. But there was no way she could compete with Eileen’s thirty-six-year
hold on him. It was a life sentence for him, legally and financially, without pardon or
escape. And a sentence for Dominique too.