Page 114 of Fight for Me
That was a first. Anne hid a smile.
Her mother looked radiant in Alexander McQueen, her dress an elegant form-fitting gown she had no trouble pulling off. It was scarlet like Maria’s, but with a shoulder length cape attached to the shoulders which was white with scarlet flowers. Her blonde hair was swept up in a sleek updo and she didn’t look old enough to have a daughter Anne’s age.
“Oh, Anne,” Maria breathed. She was blinking back tears. “You look beautiful. Just beautiful.”
Maria was nothing to sneeze at. Her crimson gown had been tailored to fit perfectly. Her hair was up as well, revealing a slender neck. Earrings of rubies and diamonds glittered in her ears, and she wore a necklace with a ruby pendant.
There was a knock on the door and Juanita poked her head in.
“Come in,” Anne called out.
Juanita hurried into the room, her face wreathed in smiles when she saw Anne. A flood of Spanish left her lips. Anne didn’t comprehend a word, but she understood the sentiment. She tried to hug Juanita, but she jumped back, her eyes wide. Apparently, she thought she’d mess up Anne’s dress.
“I need to sit down,” Anne said. She didn’t think she’d be nervous, but there it was. Her stomach was in tight knots.
“Of course! Of course!” Jean and her mom helped her to a chair in front of the vanity, holding up the train and adjusting as Anne gratefully sat down. “There’s plenty of time. The ceremony isn’t for another half an hour.” Jean glanced at her mom. “I’m just going to go check on things. I’ll be back shortly.”
They were in a fancy, expansive dressing room in the Washington National Cathedral. Anne’s desire for a smallish, intimate wedding had been shot down by the media, all the politicians sucking up to Blane, and her own mother—and kept shooting at it until it rolled over and died. The guest list had been a combined effort between mom and Blane, and she’d been happy to let them take care of it.
The seating at the reception had been another nightmare that Anne had gladly passed off to Blane, Mom, and Jean. Apparently, there was some kind of etiquette involved in where to seat Blane’s fellow officers depending upon rank. It made Anne’s head hurt.
The size of the reception had easily grown to five hundred and change. The cost of the surf-and-turf dinner her mother had insisted on made Anne wince. But her father hadn’t batted an eye. He’d even taken it upon himself to meet with the chef and sommelier at the Willard to discuss the wine and champagne selections. “Only the best for my daughter,” he’d gruffly declared.
Her mother had gone with him to inspect the place settings, the pattern of china, centerpieces, linens, silver, and crystal. They decided on centerpieces to match Anne’s bouquet—deep red roses and calla lilies. Candles on every table with two gorgeous candelabras for the head table. Her mother absolutely adored that sort of thing and Anne trusted her taste. Her mother was excellent at class without being ostentatious.
Her mom, Maria, and Juanita were all enjoying a glass of champagne, which Anne envied. A glass of wine might calm her nerves. At least the morning sickness had stopped. The scale said she’d gained five pounds despite throwing up every morning for the past ten weeks. At least her dress still fit.
She shouldn’t be nervous. Anne wanted to marry Blane more than anything. It was just…this was her wedding day. The. Big. Day. Her life was headed for huge changes very quickly. She just…needed a minute.
“Are you all right?” Maria asked. “You know, you don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that,” Anne said. “Just a bit nervous.” She gave her a small smile.
“That’s perfectly normal,” her mom assured her. “Goodness, I couldn’t eat a thing the day I married your father. And your grandfather would have been more than happy for me to leave him at the altar.”
Anne’s attention was sufficiently diverted. She’d not heard this before. “Really?”
“Oh yes.” Her mother took another sip of champagne. “He was very disgruntled at my choice in your father. But mother would just look at him and he’d grumble, but then he’d be still. Mother always knew just how to handle Papa.” She laughed lightly.
Anne could say the same thing about her mother and father, but she held her tongue.
“I was also nervous on my wedding day,” Maria added. “I think it just comes with the territory. But once I saw Brian waiting at the end of the aisle, all my nervousness just evaporated.” She wore a wistful smile, and her gaze was far away.
They all chatted a bit more, the ladies refilling their glasses, and Anne gradually relaxed. She was as pretty as she’d ever be and now was anxious to see Blane. He’d be wearing his dress whites today and she couldn’t wait to see how he looked in them.
Finally, Jean poked her head in. “It’s time!”
Maria and her mother helped Anne stand and adjust her train. Jean handed her the bouquet—a waterfall arrangement of the crimson roses, calla lilies, and babies’ breath along with magnolia leaves and ferns. It was breathtaking and the aroma filled the room.
Her mom gave her one last loving look, and very lightly hugged her. “I’m so happy for you, my precious baby girl,” she whispered.
Maria and Juanita both gave her slight hugs as well, Juanita fighting tears.
“Don’t cry,” Anne chastised her with a smile. “If you cry, I’ll cry.”
Juanita laughed and departed with her mom and Maria to take their places. There was a knock at the door and Jean let in her dad. He stopped short when he saw her, his mouth falling open.
Anne laughed. “I hope that’s because I look good and not the opposite,” she teased.