Shopaholic Ties the Knot

“This is preposterous. How dare you—”

“Elinor, you want this wedding. I know you do. You just have to be nice to your son and you can have it. I mean, it’s not that much to ask!”

There’s silence. Gradually Elinor’s eyes narrow, as closely as they can since her last bout of plastic surgery.

“You want this wedding too, Rebecca. Please don’t pretend this is a purely altruistic offer. You were as dismayed as I was when he pulled out. Admit it. You’re here because you want to get married at the Plaza.”

“You think that’s why I’m here?” I gape at her. “Because I’m upset that the Plaza wedding was canceled?”

I almost feel like laughing hysterically. I almost want to tell her the whole truth, right from the beginning.

“Believe me, Elinor,” I say at last. “That’s not why I’m here. I can live without the Plaza wedding. Yes, I was looking forward to it and it was exciting. But if Luke doesn’t want it… that’s it. I can drop it just like that. It’s not my friends. It’s not my home city. I really don’t care.”

There’s another sharp silence. Elinor moves away to a polished side table and, to my utter astonishment, takes out a cigarette and lights it. She’s kept that habit very quiet!

“I can persuade Luke,” I say, watching her put the box away. “And you can’t.”

“You are… beyond belief,” she says. “Using your own wedding as a bargaining tool.”

“I know I am. Is that a yes?”

I’ve won. I can see it in her face. She’s already decided.

“Here’s what you have to say.” I get out a piece of paper from my bag. “It’s all the stuff Luke needs to hear. You have to tell him you love him, you have to say how much you missed him when he was a child, how you thought he’d be better off in Britain, how the only reason you didn’t want to see him was you were afraid of disappointing him…” I hand the paper to Elinor. “I know none of it is going to sound remotely natural. So you’d better start off by saying ‘These words don’t come naturally to me.’ ”

Elinor stares blankly at the sheet. She’s breathing heavily and for a moment I think she’s going to throw it at me. Then, carefully, she folds up the piece of paper and puts it on the side table. Is that another twitch of emotion beneath her eye? Is she upset? Livid? Or just disdainful?

I just can’t get my head round Elinor. One minute I think she’s carrying round a huge untapped love deep inside her — and the next I think she’s a coldhearted cow. One minute I think she completely hates me. Then I think, maybe she just has no idea how she comes across. Maybe, all this time, she’s genuinely believed she was being friendly.

I mean, if no one’s ever told her what an awful manner she has… how’s she to know?

“What did you mean by saying that Luke might decide to come back to New York?” she says frostily. “Are you planning to leave?”

“We haven’t talked about it yet,” I say after a pause. “But yes. I think we might. New York’s been great, but I don’t think it’s a good place for us to be anymore. Luke’s burned out. He needs a change of scene.”

He needs to be away from you, I add silently.

“I see.” Elinor draws on her cigarette. “You appreciate I had arranged an interview with the co-op board of this building? At considerable effort.”

“I know. Luke told me. But to be honest, Elinor, we would never have lived here.”

Her face flickers again, and I can tell she’s suppressing some kind of feeling. But what? Is it fury with me for being so ungrateful? Is it distress that Luke’s not going to live in her building after all? Part of me is desperately curious, wants to pick away at her facade, nose in, and find out all about her.

And another, more sensible part of me says, just leave it, Becky. Just leave it.

As I reach the door, though, I can’t resist turning round. “Elinor, you know how they say inside every fat person there’s a thin person struggling to get out? Well… the more I think about you, the more I think there might — possibly — be a nice person inside you. But as long as you keep being mean to people and telling them their shoes are shoddy, no one’s ever going to know.”

There. She’ll probably kill me now. I’d better get out. Trying not to look as though I’m running, I head down the corridor and out of the apartment. I close the door behind me and lean against it, my heart thudding.

OK. So far so good. Now for Luke.