I turned to see my personal assistant, Sarah, looking harried. She held a clipboard that seemed to weigh fifty pounds.
“The florist is asking for an additional ten thousand,” she whispered, looking apologetic. “Lydia decided the white roses weren’t ‘white enough’ and wants them replaced with orchids before the ceremony starts in two hours.”
I sighed, reaching for my pen. “Pay it, Sarah. Just pay it.”
“Eleanor, you spoil her,” a voice said from the doorway. It was Charles, my attorney and oldest friend. He walked out onto the balcony, swirling a glass of scotch. “This wedding is costing you four million dollars. And I haven’t seen her say thank you once.”
“She’s happy, Charles,” I said, though the words tasted like ash in my mouth. “That’s all I ever wanted. Since her father died… since I had to be both mother and father… I just wanted to give her the world to make up for the empty seat at the dinner table.”
“You gave her the world,” Charles muttered, looking down at the couple. “But I think she wants the solar system now.”
I looked back down at the beach. Lydia had spotted me on the balcony. For a moment, our eyes met. I smiled, the maternal instinct swelling in my chest, and raised my hand in a wave.
She didn’t wave back. Instead, she frowned, gestured to Marcus, and pointed at me. It wasn’t a gesture of affection. It was the gesture one makes when pointing out a stain on a tablecloth.
“I need to go down there,” I said, smoothing the silk of my dress. “I need to give them my blessing before the ceremony.”
“Be careful, Eleanor,” Charles warned, his voice low. “I ran that background check on Marcus you asked for. The full one. The results came in twenty minutes ago. It’s on your desk.”
“I’ll look at it later,” I said, dismissing the worry. “Today is her day. I won’t ruin it with a mother’s paranoia.”
I walked down the grand marble staircase, past the catering staff carrying trays of caviar and gold-leafed truffles. I walked out onto the sand, my heels sinking slightly into the ground I owned.
“Mom!” Lydia called out as I approached. Her voice was sharp, lacking the warmth I remembered from her childhood. “You’re early. The photos aren’t for another hour. And is that the dress you chose? It’s a bit… attention-grabbing, isn’t it?”
“I just wanted to see my beautiful bride,” I said, ignoring the barb and reaching out to adjust her veil.
She pulled away slightly. “Careful, Mom. Your hands are shaking. You’ll snag the lace.”
Marcus stepped forward, flashing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Eleanor! You look… distinct. The setup is decent. Though, frankly, the string quartet looks a bit… budget. We were hoping for something more modern.”
“They are the New York Philharmonic’s lead strings, Marcus,” I said dryly.
“Right, well,” Marcus checked his Patek Philippe watch—a watch I knew he couldn’t afford on his own. “Actually, Eleanor, can we steal you for a second? Just over by the catering tent? We have a little… business to discuss before the vows.”
“Business?” I asked. “On your wedding day?”
“It’s about our future,” Lydia said, linking her arm through Marcus’s. “Come on, Mom. Don’t be dramatic.”
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