Abby raised her head off Nick’s chest and looked at him. “I thought we just did,” she said. It was amazing, really, how you could take guilt and shame and nerves and uncertainty and mix them in with hands and mouths and fingers and bodies and just sail right out the window, over Lake Michigan and into the stratosphere beyond.
“No,” said Nick, with a sexy leer. “I know we can do that. I meant ‘elope’. I think we can do it.”
Abby wasn’t following.
“Brian and Leigh will help us,” said Nick earnestly. “I’m sure they would. We could get married in Atlanta. They’d stand up with us. It could be...just us.”
Abby’s vision of a burning volcano of a wedding turned into a peaceful waterfall. Just us. She raised up on one elbow and peered into his eyes. “Just us? No seven…no, wait, ten…no, twelve layer cake? No ‘we must invite Cousin Darlene even though she’s never met us and she’s really old, in fact, she might even be dead’? No…”
Nick’s fingers pressed her lips to silence. “No,” he said. “Just us.”
The concept was enough to make Abby do really interesting things to him with her hands and her mouth. Later…much later, Nick reached off the side of the bed and pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his pants. He made two phone calls, one to the Hyatt in Chicago, canceling his reservation for the next three days…and one to Atlanta.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Hey, Abby!
So it’s getting closer and closer. Are you scared? Don’t be. It’s gonna be great. We’re gonna be great.
Leighanne has a few questions. I gave her your number at the apartment.
The show last night went really well. Standing O for a long, long time. And the reaction to Ribbons of Light…I really want you to see that, since it’s your song. Maybe in Atlanta?
Nick
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Omigod, thought Abby. Yes, I’m scared. I’m terrified. In just a couple more days, I’m getting married.
Nick and Abby spent the three days in Chicago playing house. The leather sofa and the Nintendo were set up in the room Abby called Nick's study. They made good use of both. And in between those times, they built the apartment. They looked at paint chips and pictures of furniture. They discussed draperies and accent pieces. They went to Michigan Avenue and cut a swath through it, ordering item after item for their home. Dishes, cutlery, towels, place mats. They had a wonderful time. And they came away from it knowing that they could live together.
Nick talked to Brian who said that, of course, he and Leighanne would be happy to stand up with them. They were playing Atlanta in three weeks. Would that be enough time? Enough time for what? asked Nick. To plan a wedding, said Brian. Nick repeated the fact that they were eloping. Well, it’s not like you’re putting a ladder up to the window and running away with her. You’ll want to have something nice. Leighanne will take care of it.
Nick relayed this conversation to Abby who stated firmly that if Leighanne so much as mentioned the word ‘veil’…
Abby spent the next couple of weeks setting up her apartment. She got the painting done and spent every spare moment there accepting deliveries and placing things. It made her believe that it was real and it kept her out of range of the Stealth radar weapon known as her mother. Abby knew that she couldn’t lie to her mother; she’d be found out immediately. She’d trip herself up in any discussion of wedding plans and that’s all her mother talked about these days. Abby just had to avoid her. So now she was avoiding two people, because she didn’t want to see Ronni either.
Ronni expected that Abby would reciprocate her request for decorating advice and let her see the apartment. Abby got very good at deflecting oblique references, but if she thought that would discourage Ronni, she was wrong. It only made Ronni more determined. Abby knew that she was getting close to just coming out and asking.
It might even happen at the Symphony Committee meeting this morning. Abby rolled her eyes at the thought of another meeting with Ronni. Abby had discovered that Ronni was really good at coming up with ideas, but not so great at following through and actually doing any of the work. It was always, maybe somebody could call…or who wants to take care of… Ronni never actually did anything herself. Probably didn’t want to chip a nail, thought Abby bitterly.
Abby’s physical transformation had been phenomenal but she knew she was nowhere close to being Ronni. She wore the right colors now and chose items that flattered her figure. She wore makeup that highlighted her positive features and she had a hairstyle that suited her. Inside, however, she was still the ugly duckling. She held her head up now and moved with grace, but every step was an effort, with her brain telling her, stand up straight, lift your chin. It was becoming slightly more natural now, but then someone like Ronni would walk into the room and Abby would fade back into her shell.
Ronni had style. And she was beautiful. She had a great figure and she knew how to show it off. Everything looked good on her. When she walked into a room, the temperature changed. It heated up around the men and it got really, really cold around the women.
Men did really stupid things around a beautiful woman, thought Abby. Corporate giants who’d cut your throat in business without a moment’s hesitation turned into fumbling schoolboys, falling all over themselves to pull out a chair for her or help her on with her coat. They would turn away from whomever they were talking to, right in the middle of a sentence, to watch her walk into the room. And then they’d turn back, their eyes a little foggy and say, “Where was I?”
Ronni was completely aware of the effect she had on men and she didn’t give a damn about the effect she had on women. She knew that when she walked into a room, she was the most beautiful thing in it, and that gave her power over everyone there. Abby did not want her ever to get a chance to wield that power over Nick again.
Sure enough, when the meeting ended, Ronni cornered Abby.
“So, Abigail? I called you last night. Your mother said you were at the apartment. Have you moved in there now?” Ronni was all smiles and interest.
“Um…I…” Abby immediately turned into Abigail. She ducked her head and bit her lip. “I stayed over there last night. There was some furniture being delivered.”
“So, it’s mostly done then? When are you moving in?”
“After the…” Abby sucked the word ‘wedding’ back into her throat before it could get out. “…weekend,” she finished feebly. Then she started to stammer. “Or maybe the next one. I don’t know yet.”
“I’d love to see what you’ve done with the place,” said Ronni. “You were such a help with the house.”
Abby’s help with the house had been to nod and agree with all of Ronni’s choices.
“Did you have a professional decorator?”
Good one, Ronni, thought Abby. It intimates that I couldn’t do it on my own and I didn’t have Ronni’s help, so I either hired out or it’s ugly.
“Nick and I decided on things together,” said Abby and then realized that Ronni had just sucked her into mentioning him. She could have kicked herself.
“Oh, dear,” said Ronni with a wry smile.
And then Abby really could have kicked herself. Or Ronni. Yeah, that was it. Let’s kick Ronni. Ronni, who knew what Nick’s tastes were like, because she’d seen them up close and personal.
It was the first time that Ronni had referred to her relationship with Nick. She didn’t know how much Nick had told Abigail about her, if anything. Abigail wasn’t giving anything away either. After Ronni had dropped her comment in the receiving line at the party, Nick and Ducky had faded from the room very quickly. Ronni figured it had something to do with her. It gave her a real sense of satisfaction. But then they came back into the room all lovey-dovey, with her wiping lipstick off his face. And then they’d spent the rest of the evening gazing into each other’s eyes like lovesick teenagers.
Ronni had told no one about Nick, not even her friends. Because she didn’t want it to get back to James. And she knew it would. Clarice and Susie would swear on their lives that they’d keep the secret and then they’d run home to tell their husbands, who would be sure to bring it up during a squash game or something or just discuss it too loudly at the club. As long as James didn’t know the identity of the person, he could pretend that he wasn’t real, that Ronni had just been housesitting for a friend, that she wasn’t planning on going on vacation with him. But if he had a name and a face…
And then when Ronni got the bombshell that Ducky had landed Nick, that they were in fact engaged… She had a nervous few moments. James would do anything to please the Fremonts, and he would be beyond furious if she did anything to piss them off. So Ronni had behaved herself at the engagement party, contenting herself with one sly comment and one dance. Well, half a dance. They had just been getting into it when that stupid bandleader quit playing and Nick and Ducky made that dumb speech. But before that happened, Nick’s reaction to her little bump-and-grind had told her all she needed to know.
What would she do with Nick if she had him, she wondered She was married and there was no way she was giving up on that. James was an only child, heir to the Fenton fortune…and Ronni wanted a piece of that. James was making a name for himself in investment banking, thanks to the trust placed in him by John Fremont. And James was very good in bed, kept her very satisfied. But, thought Ronni, a little variety on the side might be fun.
James was very happy with Ronni’s new ‘friendship’ with Abigail. He considered Abigail to be a good, solid person, not flighty like his beloved wife. Maybe Ronni would keep her feet on the ground. He was also glad that she was getting involved in things like the Symphony. It gave her less time to sit around and be bored and it was, of course, the kind of thing she should be doing as his wife. James was always happy when Ronni reported that she had lunch or tennis or a meeting with Abigail. He just wished she’d stop calling her Ducky.
“I have some time this afternoon,” said Ronni. “I could pop over then. Or maybe we could go and have lunch and do it right now.
Abby had a vision of the kitchen counter, where the plane ticket to Atlanta sat next to the list that said 'Wedding' across the top.
“I…uh…I’m going to the hospital this afternoon to read to the children.”
What a goody-goody, thought Ronni. “Maybe tomorrow then,” she pressed.
“Um…I don’t know about that either…I’m at the school during the morning and then I’ve got tennis in the afternoon. And then my mother…” Abby rolled her eyes. “…wants to go look at more wedding dresses.”
Ronni laughed. She knew all about mothers. And she knew Sharon Fremont. She actually felt sorry for Ducky. “Too bad you didn’t do what James and I did…just elope.”
“Oh, look at the time,” said Abby. “I really must go. I’ll call you.”
And she was out the door, leaving Ronni standing there wondering why Abigail had gone pale so suddenly. She shrugged and picked up her purse. Maybe she wouldn’t wait for a phone call. She knew where the apartment was. Maybe she’d just drop by.
Abby didn’t stop shaking until she was in her car. Why didn’t you just tell her the truth? she asked herself. Just like you told your mother. That you can’t do it tomorrow because you’re going to be in Atlanta. Nick’s performing there in a couple of days. It would make sense that you would go to see him. Now, she’ll know you lied. So what! she corrected herself. By the time I see her again, it will all be over and done with. I’ll be a married woman. I’ll be a wife. I’ll be Mrs. Nick Carter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Abby stared at the plane ticket for a long time. Mrs. Nick Carter. Abby Carter. Abby Fremont-Carter. Mrs. Abigail Fre… Oh, for God’s sakes, Abby! Are you doing this or aren’t you?
Abby put down her doubts and picked up the ticket. I’m doing it, she decided and headed for the airport.
