Little Pink Slips Part 33

"Mine."

"Do you remember signing this?"

Every month she okayed hundreds of proofs. "I don't recall," she said.

Next he pulled out a school photograph. "Can you, please, identify this person?"

"Yes," she said. "That's Nathaniel Fine, our former intern."

"Did you see Bebe Blake, uh, make s.e.xual advances to Mr. Fine?"

Magnolia stretched her mind back to December. She remembered going into the fashion closet. She recalled hearing a rustle and a con versation between Bebe and Polo. But did she actually see Bebe do anything to him? The fashion closet had been filled with racks of clothing which stood between her and the couple like size-four artillery. Had she simply, based on the conversation she'd overheard, imagined the worst?

"Miss Gold?" the attorney asked.

"I don't recall," she said-and said again, and again, and again.

"As a decision maker, how would you describe Bebe Blake?"

Wally broke in. "I object."

"I'll rephrase. Do you think it's fair to describe Ms. Blake as unpre dictable?"

Magnolia thought it over. "Yes."

"Did Ms. Blake have a clear vision for her magazine?"

Magnolia ruminated and shook her head. "No."

"Did the staff like Ms. Blake?"

Did some of the staff like Bebe? Probably, considering how Ameri cans devoured celebrity gossip as if it were hot-b.u.t.tered popcorn. "I honestly don't know," she finally answered. The questions bombarded her until she wanted to crawl under the nineteenth-century confer ence room table. The next time she had insomnia, she would recon struct this legal snooze.

"Thank you, Ms. Gold," the attorney said. "That will be all. I appreciate your help." James Skyler, Esq., smiled coolly at Magnolia as he put down his pen and legal pad. She and Wally walked to the street and his waiting car.

"You did good," he said.

"Really?" She sighed. "Scary won't call me as a witness, will they?"

Wally threw his arms up in the air, then caught his crutches before they fell. "Don't think about it," he said. "Compartmentalize."

"I can't," Magnolia said as the two of them started driving uptown.

"My mind is a big, open loft, which is currently a mess." She turned to look at Wally. "Will you come to the trial-for moral support?"

"C'mon, you'll be fine," he said. "Bebe's lawyer will try to get you to admit Jock attempted to cramp her style, usurp her good name, force a different editor on her, and make her life unadulterated h.e.l.l.

You decide if it's true or not. I don't need to be your little pit bull."

"You do!" Magnolia said.

"Okay, Mags. Then you and I are breaking up before the Mrs.

changes the locks."

Chapter 3 9.

Guts and Roses.

"You must be Magnolia," said a tall, thin man with black hair curling over his collar. He kissed her on both cheeks.

"Abbey was right. You are beautiful."

"Thank you," Magnolia said, standing in Abbey's foyer. "Abbey for got to mention your eyes. Not many of us have green eyes." His were like olives, lightly flecked with caramel. If you took his face apart, feature by feature, you wouldn't expect it to be rea.s.sembled in such a handsome fashion. His nose was long. Under his eyes were slight shadows, faintly lavender, like matching bruises. But it all worked, especially the smile, which fanned a delicate web of early lines toward each silver-laced temple.

"When the Moors invaded France, they left behind green eyes," he said. "In Brazil, with all their mixed bloodlines, green eyes exist in the most exotic medleys of skin and hair. Green eyes come when opposites attract." His accent was heavy, and his voice low. "Daniel Cohen," he said. "I am so happy we finally meet."

"I see you've found each other," Abbey said, linking her arm through both his and Magnolia's. Next to Daniel, she looked even more fragile than usual. She wore a white lace minidress, its high neck pinned with a garnet and diamond b.u.mblebee Magnolia had never seen.

"From Daniel," Abbey said, touching the brooch. "His great grandmother's."

"Because Abbey reminds me of a bee-small, busy, making sweet ness and beauty wherever she lands."

If an American man had said this, Magnolia would have wanted to stick a finger down her throat. From Daniel, the sentiment sounded poetic.

"The dress suits you, Magnolia," Daniel said.

"I knew it would," Abbey added. "I found it in the Paris flea mar ket and wanted you to have it for tonight."

That morning a messenger had delivered a large, white box tied with a silky bow and filled with layers of chartreuse tissue paper.

Magnolia pulled out a chocolate brown velvet dress, cut deep at the decollete, which was frosted with lace and beads. The skirt, layered with rows of small, horizontal ruffles, was longer than Magnolia's usual length. "For tonight-with your spiky, brown boots," the note from Abbey commanded. It was a dress that Magnolia would have never tried on in a store. She was fairly sure it made her resemble a poodle, especially because Abbey had requested she wear her hair, which hadn't been cut in three months, loose and curly.

"You don't think I'm old for ruffles? I'm feeling like I escaped from the Moulin Rouge."

"You can bring it off," Abbey said.

When she had tried on the dress, Magnolia wondered if perhaps tonight would be some kind of covert costume ball and everyone would be similarly coiffed and clothed. That, however, was not the case. The rest of the crowd-which, when she arrived, already over flowed Abbey's foyer, dining room, and living room and stood deep in the hall leading to her bedroom and library-wore the usual black and charcoal wools of a Manhattan Sunday night in March.

Servers in tuxedos circulated with trays bearing white roses-her favorite flower-and tuna tartare; flaky, Brie-filled biscuits; and roasted red peppers and chevre on tiny baguettes. In the corner of the living room, a pianist played jazz, and the piano sounded-for the first time ever-perfectly in tune. Abbey had put in all three leaves of her dining room table and set it with an old-world damask cloth, tall white tapers in mismatched sterling silver holders, and her usual garden of flowered Limoge. For a centerpiece, hundreds of ranuncu lus and lilies of the valley were packed tight with miniature white roses in an ornate silver ice bucket.

"How did you pull off this party so quickly?" Magnolia asked when Daniel rushed over to greet a handsome older couple and a woman about Magnolia's age, all regal and slim.

"It's amazing how freedom can kick-start your engine," Abbey said.

"Turns out, our divorce was about the only thing Tommy and I agreed on. He met someone else, and wanted to move fast. Let me keep everything. The minute the paperwork was signed, I felt I could fly."

"When will the divorce come through?" Wally and Magnolia's split had been reasonably amicable and yet it had taken almost a year.

"Yesterday," she whispered in Magnolia's ear. "I'm single!"

"Abbey!" Magnolia said. "I don't even know what to say. Congratu lations?"

"I accept," she said. "Now go mingle. This is my night, and you have to promise to enjoy yourself."

"You're getting pretty d.a.m.n pushy," Magnolia said. She kissed her on the cheek and walked off to the bar for a gla.s.s of champagne- except for water, the only beverage available. She scanned the room and noticed a bearded man in his thirties who looked vaguely familiar.

"Do I see you around the track?" she asked.

"Four times a week," he said, introducing himself. "Matthew Hirsch, die-hard runner. Not that many of us crazies keep going through the winter."

"How do you know Abbey?" she asked. It seemed odd that he was here-when they ran together, Abbey had never greeted him at the Reservoir. "We just met-the other day," he said. "On some business."

Abbey's next-door neighbor joined their conversation. "Good evening, Rabbi Hirsch-may I steal you away?"

"Rabbi?" Magnolia asked. Now it clicked. "Are you the rabbi the Ben Stiller character was based on in Keep the Faith?" She'd rented that DVD twice.

"Guilty as charged," Rabbi Hirsch said with a dimpled smile. He hurried away with Abbey's neighbor, leaving Magnolia to penetrate the crush of guests in the hallway.

"She knows how to throw a party, huh?" Cameron said, coming up to her from behind. "Now I see why she didn't get jazzed when my idea of a great date was Niko's on Broadway."

"You can feed me their moussaka any day, but Abbey's allergic to plastic grapes dangling from ceilings," Magnolia said, smoothing her ruffles. "By the way, I'm only in this ridiculous dress because Abbey forced me to wear it."

"I was just thinking I like you all girly," Cameron said, clicking her gla.s.s with his.

"That's high praise coming as it does from a man whose idea of sartorial elegance is L.L.Bean."

"You just wish you owned a cap that repels ticks," he said. "And I'm pretty sure I've seen you in a Bean Mad Bomber hat."

"I'm pretty sure you gave me that hat," Magnolia said. "And, for the record, I love it."

The two of them wandered back to the bar for refills. "By the way, you actually look very handsome tonight." He did. Magnolia couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Cameron in a sport coat. They leaned against the dining room wall, which was painted a deep per simmon, a perfect backdrop for Magnolia's brown gown. "How did your Bebe deposition go?" Magnolia wasn't the only one who'd been living in lawyers' offices.

"Interminable," Cam said. "Was it true that during Ms. Blake's vacation in Baja you sent her two hundred e-mails in one day? Did you hear Jock Flanagan say Ms. Blake would be thrown off the magazine if she had any more 'bulls.h.i.t hissy fits'? Did you call Felicity Dingle a 'harpy'? Like that. And by the way I didn't call Felicity a harpy. I called her something much worse."

"So how are you spending your time when you're not in a lawyer's office?" Magnolia asked. Phoebe was staying home with her baby, Sasha was studying for the LSAT, Ruthie got nabbed by Lucky, and Fredericka was skiing in Switzerland with a German school friend who now owned half of Hamburg.

"Write, write, write."

"You're not job hunting?"

"I think my ill.u.s.trious career as a managing editor may have ground to a halt," Cam said, as his cell phone rang. He looked at the name. "Find you later. Got to take this."

Magnolia began to search for someone else to talk to when Abbey walked over. "Can I steal you away?" she said. She pointed toward the hall. "In my bedroom."

Abbey closed the door behind them. She kicked off her silver san dals, pushed aside a profusion of embroidered silk pillows, and crawled onto her bed. From the bedside table, she handed Magnolia a small box. "For you," she said.

"Another gift?" Magnolia said. "It's not my birthday, Abbey. You're spoiling me." She shook the box. Maybe it was the spiral earrings Bergdorf's ordered. Inside, however, was a small gold locket that dan gled from an almost invisible chain. Magnolia opened it to find a pic ture of the two of them, victorious after their first six-mile race. They looked very young, very sweaty, and very happy.

"Put it on," Abbey insisted. The locket sat below Magnolia's collar bone at exactly the right spot. "It's my way of thanking you."

"For what?" Magnolia said. "Being a best friend doesn't require thanks." She gave Abbey a lingering hug.

"Being a maid of honor does," Abbey whispered, still embraced in Magnolia's arms.

Magnolia pushed her away so she could see her face and said very quietly. "Excuse me? You're getting married?" Magnolia decided not to add "again."

"Yes!" Abbey said and started to cry. "I know it's abrupt, but he's the one. Daniel and I together are magic."

Magnolia fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. "When's the wedding?" she asked.

"Soon," Abbey said.

"How soon?"

She heard Abbey draw a breath. "In ten minutes."

Magnolia bolted upright. Abbey grabbed a tissue next to her bed so the tears streaming down her face wouldn't drop on her dress. Her wedding dress. "Hold on." She darted into her bathroom.

Hold on, that's for d.a.m.n sure. Get a grip, Magnolia thought, as she fell back on the bed and began to take short, hyperventilated breaths.

Abbey walked out of her bathroom, holding two nosegays: one with white roses and lilies of the valley tied with garnet-red silk ribbon and another of chocolate brown rununculus and lilac roses, which she handed to Magnolia.

"Your bouquet," Abbey said, placing her own bouquet on the bed. "Now, please help me with this veil. It's your job." From her closet she pulled out a wisp of tulle attached to a comb jeweled with garnets that matched her bee pin. "I stayed up all night, trying to get this right."

She sat down at her silvery mirrored antique desk and faced its matching mirror. Magnolia put the veil on Abbey's head but it wound up crooked. Abbey looked deranged. Magnolia tried again, but her hands were shaking too hard to get the comb in place. Abbey gently pulled Magnolia's hand off the headpiece and futzed with it until she looked like the bride on the top of a cake. She grabbed Magnolia's hand. "I know you think I'm making a mistake-another mistake, even bigger than Tommy."

"That's not what I'm thinking," Magnolia said, "because I don't know what to think."

"It's crazy, but it's good crazy," Abbey said. "We'll live here and Daniel will commute, and in the summers we'll live in France near his vineyards, and of course I'll go to Paris whenever I can." Abbey's words were flying faster than Magnolia could catch. "I love his family, and they love me." Magnolia stared at Abbey in continued shock. There was a tap at the door.

"Who is it?" Abbey said.

"Veronique," a French-accented voice said.

"Entrez, s'il vous plait," Abbey said. The lissome blonde whom Magnolia had seen Daniel greet entered the room. "Magnolia, I'd like you to meet Daniel's sister, Veronique. Veronique, mon amie, Magnolia." The blonde kissed Abbey, and then Magnolia, three times each-on their right cheek, left cheek, and then right again.

"Tu est prete, ma cherie?" Veronique said.

"Ready," Abbey replied, as Veronique returned to the living room.

From faraway, Magnolia heard the music switch from jazz to "Chapel of Love." "That's your cue," Abbey said. "Just walk out the door and down the hall through the living room. My brother will have already asked people to be still. You'll figure out the rest."