Shopaholic to the Rescue (34 page)

“Dearly beloved,” intones Elvis. “Uh-huh-huh. We are gathered here. Uh-huh-huh.”

Oh God. I’m going to get the giggles. Is he going to say “Uh-huh-huh” after every line?

He’s a pretty impressive Elvis. He’s in a black spangled suit, with the most massive flares and platforms and a really good wig (you can’t see his real hair at all), and he’s already sung “Can’t Help Falling in Love” with lots of reverb and pelvic thrusts.

It’s two days since we left Sedona, and we’re clustered in the Silver Candles Elvis Wedding Chapel in Las Vegas. Everyone’s overexcited—especially Minnie, who is dressed up as a “ring girl” even though there aren’t any rings. Suze is in a floaty white dress with a flower garland in her hair, and she’s never looked more beautiful. Mum’s sitting in the front pew and she’s already thrown a handful of confetti over Suze, although we haven’t started yet. (I found Mum and Dad at the bar of our hotel this morning, quaffing glasses of champagne. And judging by their bill, they’d each had more than one.)

“To witness the promise of renewed love between this couple. Uh-huh-huh.” Elvis surveys Suze. “I believe you have written your own vows.”

“That’s right.” Suze clears her throat and glances at Tarkie, who’s standing nearby, a look of huge pride on his face. “I, Susan, vow to you, Becky, always to be your friend.” She gazes seriously into my eyes. “For richer, for poorer, in daytime and at three
A.M
. And I swear this on my new cowboy boots.”

“Uh-huh-huh,” says Elvis with a nod.

“Hurrah!” Mum gives a whoop and throws some more confetti over Suze’s head.

“And I, Becky, swear to be your friend forever, Suze,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “For richer, for poorer, in daytime and at three
A.M.
Let no one put us asunder.”

Especially Alicia Bitch Long-legs,
I don’t say—but we all know that’s who I mean.

“I swear this on my new cowboy boots,” I add for good measure, and do a little twirl. I love my cowboy boots. I’m never wearing anything else, ever. And they’re
brilliant
for line dancing, as I discovered last night, because we went to a line-dancing bar. Suze insisted we go, and it was the best fun. Now I just need to get Luke to buy a pair of cowboy boots, and we’ll match.

(I already know this is never going to happen.)

“And I swear never to leave you, Suze.” Tarkie steps forward for his turn. He takes Suze’s hands and holds them tight. “I swear to love and protect you and keep you forever, as long as Owl’s Tower shall stand. Or longer, if it falls down,” he adds hastily, as he sees Suze open her mouth. “Much longer. Forever.”

“I vow to be your wife forever, Tarquin,” says Suze, her voice a whisper. “And to stay faithful only to you, my beloved husband.”

She looks like an angel in her wispy dress, her face all lit up with hope and love and relief. I feel a bit misty-eyed as I watch them, and I’m wondering if I have a tissue anywhere, when Luke rises to his feet.

“I want to make a vow to you, Becky,” he says, his deep voice filling the chapel, and I jolt in surprise. This wasn’t in the plan. We even talked about it and said, “Shall we?” and then laughed and decided we didn’t need to renew any vows. But here he is on his feet, looking almost startled at his own behavior.

And as I look into his face, I think I know why he’s doing it. It’s because of…stuff. Our own private stuff. What happened in L.A. Seeing Suze and Tarkie stumble and looking at our own marriage in that light. And, maybe most of all, hearing Suze’s news and realizing it’s not us, not this time. Last night, in bed, we talked about it. Way into the night. And…

Well. I can be honest with Luke the way I can’t with anyone else, even Suze. So. He knows.

“I vow…” Luke pauses, as though searching for the right words. I can practically see his mind riffling through possibilities and rejecting them. The truth is, I don’t think he’s going to find them. The truth is, he doesn’t need to find them.

“I know,” I say to him, and my throat is suddenly tight. “I know. I vow too.”

Luke’s eyes are locked on mine, and my head feels a bit swimmy and I wish we had this chapel to ourselves for a good few hours. But we don’t. So, somehow, I get my poise back and nod a couple of times and whisper, “Amen.” Which doesn’t really make sense, but, then, neither does anything else in Las Vegas.

“All righty!” says Elvis, who’s looking a bit confused by Luke’s interjection. “So. Ladies and gentlemen. Let’s love each other tender. Let’s have no more suspicious minds. Uh-huh-huh. By the power invested in me by—”

“Wait. I haven’t finished,” Luke interrupts. “Mother.” He turns to where Elinor is sitting in a back pew, in a black-and-white silk suit so elegant and perfect it makes me want to weep. We reconnected with her in Las Vegas this morning, and she was predictably unfazed by hearing all our plans. Now here she is, sitting upright and composed, with a pillbox hat perched over one eye.

(She always travels with a hat, it turns out. In fact, she was surprised that none of the rest of us had one.)

“I want to make a vow to you too,” Luke continues. “Things will be better between us. I promise.” He takes a deep breath. “We’ll spend time together. Holidays. Fun times. We’ll be a family. If…” He hesitates. “If you like that idea.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Luke and his mother look so similar. They’re gazing silently at each other with those unmistakable dark eyes. His expression is taut and kind of yearning. And so is hers.

“I do.” She nods.

“And I do too!” exclaims Mum, who has
definitely
had too much champagne. “Of course Elinor’s part of the family.” She leaps to her feet and brandishes her confetti. “I, Jane Bloomwood, vow to honor and respect my son-in-law’s mother, Elinor. And my wonderful neighbor Janice.” She turns to Janice with tears in her eyes. “Janice, where would I be without you? You’re always there for me. In sickness and in health…when my ankle broke…that time the lights fused and you came to our rescue—”

“OK, we need to move on, folks.” Elvis is glancing at his watch. “Uh-huh-huh.” He turns to Suze. “Say after me, ‘I will not step on your blue suede shoes.’ ”

But Suze doesn’t even hear him. She’s too riveted by Mum and Janice.

“Oh, love,” says Janice, looking flustered. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“You gave us your shepherd’s pie, Janice!
Your shepherd’s pie!
”

“You said we weren’t doing vows.” Dad tugs at Mum’s dress.

“We’re not!” retorts Mum.

“Yes, you are! You’re making vows all over the bloody place!” he says hotly. “So I’m going to make one too.” Dad stands up and turns to face Mum. “I, Graham, swear never to leave you again, my darling Jane. Never.” He grabs Mum and holds her tight.
“Never.”

“Enough!” Elvis definitely sounds tetchy. “Folks, you can’t all be making vows. You didn’t pay for this.”

“And I vow always to trust you,” says Mum to Dad, her voice quivering. “And I don’t care where your Big Bonus comes from—I’m proud of you.”

“No more vows!” Elvis practically yells, and at once Danny stands up, a wicked look in his eye.

“I have a vow,” he says brightly. “Elinor, I vow to make you a mind-blowing new wardrobe, if you’ll vow to wear me at the Met Ball.”

“By the power vested in me—” Elvis tries again.

“Sunglasses?” says Minnie, approaching Elvis. She offers him Janice’s white sunglasses, while pointing lovingly at his own spangly shades. “Like
sunglasses
? Pleeeease?”

“Jesus H. Christ!” Elvis erupts. “By the power vested in me by this chapel, I pronounce you committed to one another.” He sweeps a hand round. “All of you. You deserve each other. Fruit loops. Uh-huh-huh.”

EIGHTEEN

Well, if nothing else, our costumes are awesome. Absolutely awesome.

Danny has dressed Luke, Dad, and Tarquin in amazing suits with broad silk ties and sheeny shirts that they would never normally have picked out, in shades of mauve and beige. When he was all dressed up, Luke looked at his reflection in horror and said, “I look like an off-duty gangster,” like that was a
bad
thing. Honestly, has he actually seen
Ocean’s Eleven
?

Suze and Elinor are looking super-glam. Elinor, in particular, is wearing thousands of dollars’ worth of high-end clothes, just to reinforce the point that she’s a Major Player, whereas Suze is in a bouclé dress with pearls, because she’s playing Titled Nobility. (She didn’t want to be Titled Nobility. She wanted to be the Amazing Yen, squish herself up in a food trolley, and do a backflip. But, like I keep telling her, there is no Amazing Yen in Becky’s Eleven.)

Danny himself is in jeans and a ripped T-shirt, but that’s OK, because he’s playing himself. Meanwhile, Mum, Janice, and I are all in different versions of the domestic-staff uniform of the Las Vegas Convention Center, which is where everything’s going to take place.

Danny got us the uniforms; I have no idea how, except it was through a “contact.” I’m in a tailored housekeeper’s dress with a badge reading M
ARIGOLD
S
PITZ
. Janice is in a black dress and little apron—not sure what she’s supposed to be. Part of the catering team, maybe? And Mum has an important-looking jacket and skirt combo. She must be some kind of manager or concierge or something.

The crucial thing is that we’ve got the meeting rooms exactly as I ordered—interconnecting with double doors. I’ve nicknamed one room “Ben” and the other “Jerry’s,” and the doors are firmly shut between them. For now.

“Right.” For the millionth time I survey the team. “Does everyone know what they’re doing?”

I’ve got the
Ocean’s Eleven
theme music pulsing through my head, because we watched it last night on DVD, to get us in the mood. We also played cards and drank beers and kept saying, “Are you in or are you out?” to one another.

“You’ve got the cupcakes ready?” says Suze, and I produce the box from a side cupboard. I place ten cupcakes on a plate, and for a silent moment the two of us survey it.

“You think we need one more cupcake?” I ask.

Suze doesn’t move. But I can read that little crinkle in her brow.

“You think we need one more cupcake,” I say.

Still she doesn’t move. I know what’s going on here. She’s being Brad Pitt and I’ve got to be George Clooney.

“OK,” I say, deadpan. “We’ll have one more cupcake.” I place the final cupcake on top of the pile and dust down my hands. “We’re set.”

“Corey’s here,” says Luke, looking at his phone, and my stomach gives a heave of nerves. Oh God. He’s here. It’s starting. And just for a moment I feel engulfed by terror. Are we actually, really doing this?

At least Minnie is safely in our hotel room, being looked after by the lovely Judy. (We brought Judy with us from Sedona as a temporary nanny, which was Luke’s idea, and it was a brilliant move.)

“Cyndi’s ten minutes away,” reports Danny, consulting his phone. “It’s on. Good luck, everyone.”

My hands are damp and my heart is suddenly pounding. I half-want to run away and forget we ever planned this. But everyone’s looking at me for instructions. This is my gig, I tell myself firmly. I need to make it happen. And although I’m terrified, I’m exhilarated too.

“OK,” I say briskly. “Party time. Dad, you need to get out of the way. Luke, you head down to the lobby to collect Corey.” Luke nods and strides out of the room, giving me a brief kiss on the way.

“Attagirl,” he whispers in my ear, and I give his hand an answering squeeze.

“Tarkie and Elinor, into Ben,” I instruct. “Danny, stay in phone contact with Cyndi. Ulla and Suze, into Jerry’s. You all know what to do. Mum and Janice…” I look at them both. “We need to disappear.”

I pick up the plate of cupcakes, give a quick glance round the room, and head out to the corridor. The worst thing about this whole plan is, I have to wait now. And I’ve never been good at waiting. How am I not going to explode with frustration?

“I brought a book of sudoku to pass the time,” says Janice helpfully, as we all squeeze into the small back room I located earlier. “And my iPad, with some nice films on it.” She beams at Mum and me. “Shall we have a little watch of
The Sound of Music
?”

Sometimes I really love Janice.

—

Twenty minutes later, even with
The Sound of Music
distracting me, I’m almost popping with tension. What is going on in there?
What?
But at last the agreed time is up, and I sally forth with my bucket of cleaning materials. (We bought them specially at a hardware store.)

I knock on the door of Jerry’s, wait till I hear Danny call, “Come in,” then make my way in, my head bowed right down.

I’m counting on the fact that Cyndi won’t recognize me from the children’s party, because being in a housekeeper’s uniform is such good camouflage. But even so, I keep my gaze down. I just about take in the fact that Cyndi is seated in a low chair by the window, with Suze, Danny, and Ulla grouped around her like acolytes. There are glasses of champagne on the coffee table and a stack of Danny Kovitz boxes on the floor.