The Truth About Ever After (16 page)

“Um,”
I murmured, struggling to put a face with the voice.

“It’s
me, Sarah! Sarah
Vandermark
!”

“Oh
my God, Sarah! Hello! How have you been?” My voice sounded pleasant enough,
hopefully even excited to hear from her, but inside my stomach had just
plummeted. Sarah
Vandermark
? Oh, God, I so did not
need this right now.

“I’m
fine. Wonderful, really! I just got engaged,” she gushed. “Tom finally popped
the question, can you believe it? We’re getting married in the summer.”

“Congratulations,”
I said. “Sarah, that’s really wonderful for you.”

“Well,
you must know why I’m calling,” Sarah went on. “As soon as it was official, I
just knew I needed to get in touch with you. You must do my wedding,
Kiks
. You really must.”

Inwardly,
I groaned. I had guessed it would come to this as soon as the word “engaged”
came out of her mouth. I wondered where on earth I would find the strength to
try to be pleasant to Sarah
Vandermark
for the next
several months.

Maybe it won’t happen
, I thought. Maybe we’ll have a
scheduling issue. Maybe I’ll
make up
a scheduling issue.

On
the other end of the phone, Sarah was still prattling on. “I mean, Mommy told
me I should use someone more experienced, of course; you know how she is. In
fact, she suggested we use those people who did your wedding—don’t they
handle a lot of stuff for your father?”

“They
used to—”

“But
I told her to forget it,” Sarah went on, oblivious. “I said we simply must
support Kiki’s little venture.”

I
gritted my teeth, wishing I could hit Sarah over the head with my phone. Oh,
why, oh why did she have to call me?

“So
we should do lunch ASAP,” she was saying. “And we can go over everything. What
do you think?”

“Lunch
would be nice,” I said, my voice sounding dangerously sweet in my own ears. It
was a good thing Sarah didn’t really know me that well.

“Perfect!”

We
made arrangements to meet the following week for lunch at a restaurant in
Birmingham. As I wrote down the details I mentally prayed the dates wouldn’t
work out. “I just can’t wait to see you,” Sarah said before we ended the call.
“You’re a topic of hot conversation, you know.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,
Kiks
, of course! Everyone is just dying to know what
you get up to these days. You’ve practically dropped off the face of the earth.”

I
rolled my eyes. “Well, it will be nice to catch up.”

“It
will. Oh,
Kiks
, I’m so excited. I’ll see you
tomorrow, sweetie. Ta
ta
!”

I
had forgotten that she did that, saying “ta
ta
” at
the end of every conversation in that horribly affected voice of hers. Ugh. Who
did she think she was fooling?

I
looked down at my calendar where I had penciled in the lunch appointment and
groaned. A part of me, the part that still remembered what it felt like to be
thirteen years old, wanted to cross out the date and simply refuse. But I knew
exactly how big an account this would be. A wedding the size of what I was
quite sure Sarah and, more importantly, her mother, were thinking would give
Jen and me enough commission to pretty much run the shop for the next six
months. I couldn’t just refuse out of hand.

Sighing,
I stood up, figuring I better go tell Jen all about it.

***

“Okay,
let me get this straight,”
Jen
said, peering at me
over her turkey sandwich. “You really, really dislike this girl?”

“Pretty
much,” I grumbled, poking unenthusiastically at my salad. Jen and I were taking
our lunch break together in the little break room that doubled as our
conference room when meeting with clients. I had just given her the barest
details about Sarah’s wedding that morning, but from that, Jen had gleaned my
less-than-thrilled attitude and had been pressing me to explain myself since we
sat down at the table.

“Wow,”
Jen said, leaning back in her chair. “I’m a little shocked, Kiki.”

“Why?”

“Because
I’ve never heard you talk about anyone that you didn’t like,” she said
seriously. “I mean, you always seem to be able to find at least some good in
everyone.”

“You
don’t know Sarah,” I muttered, pushing my unappealing salad away and twisting
the lid off my water bottle. “She’s a monster, Jen.”

Jen
raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

I
sighed. “I went to school with her,” I said, figuring I may as well get it out
there. “And college, come to think of it. She was the kind of girl that tore
you down behind your back, but acted like your friend to your face. She could
get your best friend to turn against you.” I felt a slight pang in my chest at
my words but tried to ignore it. “She could steal your boyfriend and somehow
convince everyone that she hadn’t meant any harm. Everyone hated her, but we
were all too scared of her to do anything about it.
It was
like
,
people still needed her approval
. God
knows why.”

Jen
was looking at me intently. “What?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable under her
gaze.

“Nothing,”
she said, shaking her head. “I just…I just have a hard time picturing it, I
guess. You, taking that kind of shit from someone. It doesn’t seem like you.”

I
gave her a small smile. “I guess it’s not; not anymore at least. But when I was
thirteen and felt totally insecure? You better believe I put up with it.”

Jen
shook her head again. “An insecure Kiki. The mind boggles.”

If you only knew, Jen
, I thought to myself. “So anyhow,” I
said. “That’s the story of why I detest Sarah
Vandermark
.”

“Cancel
the meeting,” Jen said. “Call her back and tell her our summer is looking
insane and you can’t imagine adding another big event. Better yet, have Barbara
do it; then you don’t even have to talk to her.”

“I
would love to do that,” I said. “But I can’t, Jen. I’m not sure if you
understand the massiveness of this job. It’s going to be huge. Like, as big as
my wedding. Do you have any idea what kind of commission we’re talking?”

“Yeah,
but
Kiks
, if you’re going to be miserable working on
it, it won’t be worth it. No amount of money is worth feeling that way. I was a
teenage girl, too you know. I totally understand how you feel.”

I
had to laugh at that. “I have a hard time imagining Annie ever letting anyone
make you feel that way.”

Jen
grinned. “True. But I didn’t meet her until ninth grade. Junior high was a
horror show for a broke-ass kid with an alcoholic father.”

I
reached over to pat her hand. Poor Jen. Anytime we talked about her growing up,
I felt guilty
for ever
complaining about my own life.

“Cancel
it, Kiki. I’m serious.”

I
was quiet for a
moment,
not really wanting to mention
what was going through my mind. “Jen,” I finally said. “You’re having a baby.
You’re going to be going out on maternity leave in the not-too-distant future.
Now is really not a good time to be turning down work, you know? And something
like this…God, Jen, it could cover our expenses for months and months.”

“I
don’t want you doing this just because of my baby—”

“I’m
not,” I said. “Though your baby is also my niece or nephew, you know. But in
all honesty, I would be doing it for our business. Which happens to mean quite
a lot to me.” I smiled at her and she grinned back.

“Well,
you’re not doing it alone,” she said. “If we decide to take this job, we treat
it like all our other clients—we both do the work, right?”

“Right,”
I said. I thought for a moment. “Actually, I like that. If you spend any time
with her, maybe you’ll decide to kill her before I do.”

Jen
winked at me. “We could probably use pregnancy hormones as a pretty good
defense.”

I
raised my water bottle and clinked it against hers. “Now you’re talking.”

Chapter Sixteen

I
had hoped that my impending lunch date with Sarah would take my mind off the
baby situation, but I was disappointed. The sadness was still there, every hour
of the day, but it was now colored by a healthy dose of dread at having to see
Sarah.

On
Thursday night I decided to call Kara. I had been avoiding her calls all week.
I had spoken with her briefly right after the miscarriage, wanting her to know
what had happened. She had been amazing, as ever, crying right along with me as
I blubbered the news. But I hadn’t wanted to rehash any of it in the days
since, so every time she called I made my excuses.

On
Thursday, however, I received a package from her in the mail. It consisted of a
giant box of Godiva chocolates with a card that read, “To make you feel
better.” Under the chocolates was a carefully wrapped bottle of wine. “In case
the candy doesn’t work,” according to the card. Under that was a piece of
stationary with her monogram on the top. Here she had written her phone number
and the words, “If all else fails, call.”

After
I stopped crying, I picked up my cell phone and called her. I figured I had
shut her out long enough. Besides, if anyone could appreciate how much I was
dreading seeing Sarah it was Kara.

“Oh,
shut
up
,” she said once I had told
her. “Are you kidding me? You’re actually thinking of going through with this?”

“I
have to,
Kar
,” I told her. “It’s more money than we
make in six months.”

“Not
worth it,” she said firmly. “Run away,
Kiks
. Run,
don’t walk.”

“Jen’s
having a baby,” I whispered. I heard her gasp on the other end of the phone.
“She’ll want to take maternity time. If I do this wedding I won’t have to
stress about getting by when she’s gone.”

“When
did you find out?” Kara asked, her voice soft and sympathetic. Something about
her tone made me feel choked up.

“Last
week,” I said quietly.

“Jesus,”
she whispered. “You poor thing. Did you tell her about you?”

“No,”
I said, eyeing the wine bottle. Maybe I should have opened it before starting
this conversation. “I never got the chance. And I can hardly tell her now.”

“Of
course you can!”
 
Kara said. “She’s
your sister-in-law, for Pete’s sake. You have to tell her.”

“I
don’t want her to know,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes. Damn it. I had so
wanted to get through this without crying. I was
tired
of crying.

“Oh,
sweetie,” Kara said, and I knew she understood everything, even without my
telling her.

“I
feel so guilty,
Kar
,” I gasped, really crying now.
“What kind of a monster feels jealous and resentful when her sister tells her
she’s pregnant?”

“You’re
not a monster,” she said firmly. “Don’t even think that. It’s totally normal to
feel what you feel, Kiki. Don’t you dare beat yourself up over it.
”

“I’m
trying,” I sniffed, pulling myself together. From my seat on the couch I was
able to just about reach the box of tissues, and I blew my nose loudly, luckily
remembering to pull the phone away.

“I
still think you should tell Jen,” Kara said once I was back on the line. “I
think it would make you feel better. And I’m sure Eric would want to tell his
brother.”

I
frowned at that. Eric and I hadn’t really talked about whether or not he wanted
to talk to Matt. Was he avoiding it because of me?

“I’ll
talk to Eric,” I promised.

“So,
are you really going to go through with this whole Sarah
Vandermark
fiasco?” Kara asked, humor returning to her voice. “What if you lose it and put
anthrax in her wedding cake?”

“I
promise I’ll be good,” I said. “But just to warn you, I may or may not be
crossing my fingers behind my back right now.”

“Well,
you better tell me all about it,” she said. “Seriously,
Kiks
,
every word.
Oooh
!” She started to giggle. “Maybe
she’s gained a bunch of weight. Wouldn’t it be amazing if she had a really
giant ass?”

I
joined in her laughter. “You are terrible, Kara.”

“I
know, I know,” she said, sighing. “I just can’t help it where that witch is
concerned.”

We
moved on to safer subjects then, namely Kara’s ongoing efforts to fit in with
the girls in her new social circle. I didn’t know what she worried
about—Kara made a great impression everywhere she went. She was gorgeous,
bubbly, and sweet; what wasn’t there to like? But being new in the Big Apple
had been hard on her.

“Why
don’t you just move home?” I suggested hopefully.