The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (10 page)

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Forty-five minutes later, dressed in a new pair of skinny jeans, a navy and white-striped boatneck sweater and my old pair of red Chuck Taylors, I went up the elevator with Gilles to Aimee's ninth floor apartment.

I'd texted Felicity about Rose and even though we all knew we might have to slow things down for the little girl, she didn't mind.

"Hi Shar-wot! Hi Shee-lee!" came the loud, bubbly greeting from the living room when we walked in.

Rose was sitting primly on the couch, wearing a yellow dress, brown leggings, and hot pink sneakers, her dark brown curls parted into low pig tails. Her big, brown eyes were shining up at us, her cheeks apple-red.

 
"Hello, princess!" I said with a broad grin as I scooped her up in my arms. She giggled and threw her chubby arms around my neck, kissing me on the cheek. "You ready to hang out with me, Gilly and Fel today? We're going to see some pretty dresses and try different kinds of cake later."

The girl's head bobbed up and down, her curls bouncing. "I want to visit the park too, Shar-wot! Mommy said I could feed the ducks today. She packed me bread!"

"You don't have to go if you can't squeeze it in," Aimee said as she came into the room wearing her scrubs and slinging on her purse. "I know you have a busy day ahead of you. Thanks again, Char. I would've called up Nikki but she's not done her classes until three later today. If you want, you can call her and have her take Rose off your hands."

Nikki was the high school girl who sometimes baby-sat Rose. I shook my head. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure we'll all manage just fine. Right, Rose?"

The girl gave a solemn nod as I released her back on her feet. "I will be good, I pwoh-mis."

Aimee just grinned and bent down to kiss her daughter on the top of her head. "Mommy will hold you to that promise, okay, honey? Now, let's go get your backpack so you can be on your way."

The first part of our morning went well. We met Felicity for breakfast at a newly-opened pattiserie with a vast array of French pastries that I wanted to try. Felicity usually took care of paying for everything but I beat her to it today by handing cash over at the till before she could whip out the Brandon-mandated company card. She spent a good five minutes trying to get me to take the money back before she finally realized I wasn't budging.

We spent an hour there, eating with Rose and Gilles (who tried for a day to decline my invitation everytime Fel and I ate somewhere) as Felicity reviewed profiles with me.

Since I was being thrown into Brandon's world with very little preparation, she'd devised a crash course for me to familiarize myself with some of the high-profile people who knew the Maxfields either as friends or business acquaintances. The list was long. She had a binder with pictures and a brief general info for each person. I did my best to remember as much as I could since some of them were invited to the engagement party this weekend. Some of them didn't sound half as bad as I worried at first but I wouldn't really know until I met them.

After breakfast, we went to the private dance studio where I had been taking some basic dancing lessons with expert Vicente because according to Felicity, it came in handy during some events. I knew how to dance but it was never formal. I didn't mind this—dancing was fun and the flamboyant Vicente always made sure I had a blast. Even Rose twirled around the dance floor on her own later since the whole place was empty during our session.

I changed back into my regular clothes after showering at the studio and headed to Marcellina's, a local but very high-end design house in charge of creating my dress for the engagement party and the whole set for me and my wedding entourage.

Despite my new elevated status as soon-to-be Mrs. Brandon Maxfield, I was still uncomfortable with luxury. I still got too awed by grand things that I was awkward being indulged in them.

Marcellina had a very exclusive client list. They kept their business small and highly selective which made them all the more sought-after. I hadn't been comfortable setting foot in it a day ago. I especially felt more out of place when I walked into it today in sneakers and jeans, a purple Dora The Explorer backpack strapped on my shoulder, and a four-year-old girl with a sticky face holding my hand.

The Maxfield-tag though would ensure every courtesy and comfort.

"Hello, Mademoiselle!" Celeste, the design house's manager, greeted us in a falsetto voice and her grating attempt at French, her generous frame filling the doorway. She always dressed dramatically and today was no exception with the fiery orange bustier she wore over a black silk dress. I didn't know much about fashion but I could tell when it was overkill.

I never liked Celeste from the moment I met her. She forced an air of patronizing, girlish sweetness that did nothing to conceal the haughty glint in her eyes and the condescending smile curved on her scarlet lips. 

She'd looked horrified when she first laid eyes on me, when she walked in on me flipping through a lookbook while Felicity spoke with one of the assistants who showed us into the viewing suite. She glared at me before turning to Felicity with a sweet smile and and a near ode to how big an honor it was for her to meet the future Mrs. Maxfield. Felicity had just looked at me in utter bewilderment before lightening up and telling Celeste that she was a mere assistant to the real future Mrs. Maxfield. She then walked over to me and made the introductions.

I didn't care if everyone thought Felicity was the future Mrs. Maxfield. She surely looked the part and most of the pictures the tabloids had of me were grainy. With our blond hair, it wasn't hard to mistake one for the other. It didn't surprise me that between the two of us, Felicity looked like the more likely candidate. The fact though that Celeste had flushed a deep red after realizing her mistake, gave me a most pleasant and smug feeling of satisfaction.

Today though she made no mistake in greeting me first even though her gaze swept over me covertly for what I knew was criticism. Her expression just got nastier when she glanced at Rose who was sucking on her fingers before grasping Celeste's long, flowing red skirt with her hand to get the woman's attention.

"Miss, when do I get my dwess?" Rose asked.

Celeste forced out a laugh but quickly backed away, sweeping her skirt aside briskly as if to touch it any further would contaminate her with something awful. "Well, if it isn't little Rose again. Good to see you, darling. Your dress will be done in a few days. You'll have it on time, I promise."

"That's right, Rose—and only if you're a good girl," I added as I hunched down on my knees and touched the little girl's shoulders. "And you're a good girl, aren't you?"

She nodded, her dark eyes large and serious. "Good girls grow tall like you and marry a pwins. Just like you is what Mommy said. I'm gonna be good, Shar-wot."'

I grinned and ruffled her hair. "Yes, you're going to be a good girl, Rose. And grow tall and marry the handsomest prince in the world."

The girl's brows furrowed together as she bit her lower lip in thought. "But the 'andsomest pwins is married to Kate. The next one is not the marry-type. Mom says Bwandon is the next 'andsomest but you're marrying him!"

Felicity and I exchanged amused glances before bursting out laughing "That's right. And when you're tall and old enough, there will be another handsome prince. There's always going to be one for a princess like you. Now, be good and let Charlotte try her dress on, okay?"

"Come sit over here, Rose," Felicity said, patting the seat next to her on the sofa and reaching for the Dora backpack I slipped off and handed to her. "Charlotte is going to try on a really beautiful dress and you can draw it later if you'd like."

"No one is drawing any of our designs anywhere!" was Celeste's sharp exclamation that startled all of us.

I gave her a tight smile. "Rose is four. I think it's safe to say there won't be much of your design in her scrawl."

Celeste recovered quickly with a brittle laugh. "Of course not. I just wanted to make sure you didn't ever worry about our exclusive designs being so carelessly protected, Ms. Samuels."

Not with a fire-breathing dragon like you prowling the grounds and eating small children.

Determined to get on with the fitting so that we could get the hell out of there, do my chat with the paps and finally make it to the food-tasting which I was totally looking forward to, I followed one of the assistants to the viewing suite and found Noli. He was the young, shy designer in charge of creating everything for me and my engagement party and wedding. We walked in on him fussing around a cushioned dress form that displayed his stunning creation for me.

"Wow," I said breathlessly as I slowly walked around the elevated platform where the dress was displayed.

It had a short but full ballerina skirt made of rose pink tulle. The fitted top was beaded with pearls,  rhinestones and flat metal studs in an intricate vintage pattern, the shoulders topped delicately with soft gold cup sleeves. 

"Noli, it's gorgeous!" I gushed at him, my cheeks hurting from too much smiling. "I never imagined it would look like this."

Even Felicity and Rose oohed and aahed at the sight of it. I couldn't blame them.

Noli had a deadline shorter than a micro-miniskirt but when we first met two days ago, he took the time and asked me what I envisioned as my engagement party dress. All that I managed to tell him was that it needed to be feminine and elegant but fun and spirited. He didn't even show me a sketch or anything. He just told us last night to come in today and try the dress on because he'd worked on it for thirty-hours straight without stopping, afraid to let his sudden inspiration run out.

The young man grinned. "I thought it would be perfect for you. It's dainty but whimsical. Sweet but tough. Why don't you try it on?"

I excitedly went into the plush, luxuriously appointed fitting room and shed my clothes. A couple minutes later, Noli and two of his assistants came in to help me get into the dress, taking great care not to damage anything, especially the beadwork on it. I wasn't comfortable letting other people help me out of and put me into clothes but when I ripped a seam the first day I tried on something, I decided I couldn't trust myself not to ruin anything. With the kind of price tag my dress had, I got over my shyness very quickly. Besides, Noli made it very clear that he was not interested in women.

Once I was all zipped up, I slowly walked out to my captive audience and did a slow pirouette on bare toes. Rose giggled and Felicity just clapped her hands in delight, proclaiming that I looked stunning in it.

"I love it but do you think Brandon would like it?" I asked as I studied myself in front of a large, three-paneled mirror.

"I think Brandon will want you marry you on the spot," Felicity said as she stood up and walked to the platform, circling me in inspection. "I think if we put your hair up in some kind of messy bun with a vintage pearl headband or something like that, you would look so effortlessly glamorous. What do you think, Noli?"

The three of us discussed options for my hair, headpieces, shoes and accessories. Finally, the assistants led me back into the fitting room to help me get out of the dress while Felicity and Noli finished going over some details. 

I had just gotten the zipper down when I heard loud voices arguing—more like shouting—outside of the viewing suite. One voice sounded distinctly like Gilles.

Frowning, I zipped my dress halfway back up and poked my head out of the fitting room.

Felicity and Noli were no longer talking. My assistant was marching her way out of the viewing suite.

Never having seen Felicity that cross since we met last week, I bolted out of the viewing suite, slipped on my red Chucks, and hobbled after my assistant despite the protests of the women who'd been helping me undress.

"What's going on?" I asked as I stepped into the main hall and found Felicity now arguing with a red-faced Celeste who had pulled herself up to her full height, her chin high with indignation.

Gilles was standing by the open door, yanking himself away from the grasp of a burly man I recognized as one of the design house's security. 

"Fel, Gilles! What's going on?" I demanded, stepping forward. 

Felicity turned to me, her expression clearly upset. "I'm sorry I didn't notice but Celeste found Rose eating a Wagon Wheel and wiping her hand on the couch which stained it with a little bit of chocolate. She dragged Rose out and Gilles saw her but she intercepted him and let one of her security guys take Rose outside and tell her to stay there. Gilles was just about to get you."

My eyes widened in disbelief before anger fisted through my gut.

I turned and glared at Celeste, my hands clenching at my sides. "Is this true? Did you kick out a four-year-old girl because she smeared chocolate on your couch?"

Celeste's upper lip curled into a sneer. "I told her to keep her grimy hands to herself and she wouldn't listen. So I taught her a lesson in respecting her elders and doing what she's told because she's clearly being spoiled. I thought it would do her some good. And the sofa is a rare collection piece imported all the way from Bombay and—"

"And you could've just billed me for it!" I snapped before marching past her and following Gilles out of the shop.

He was crouched down in front of a sobbing Rose who leaned against the wall, her head down, her tiny hands clutching her now-melting, half-eaten Wagon Wheel.