Page 7 of Wedding Games
‘How many?’ asked Zoe, squeezing his hand. Even though they’d planned a small celebration, she would rather the money was put into the estate.
‘Five hundred,’ Barbara replied.
‘Oh my god!’
‘No, no, no,’ said Rory. ‘That’s nuts.’
Barbara sighed. ‘Is it? Take the Foxbrookes. If you include the illegitimates, that’s ten people. And if any of the children are wed, that number only increases.’
‘No,’ Rory repeated.
Zoe elbowed him. ‘One hundred and fifty,’ she said to Barbara.
‘Four hundred,’ she replied, her cornflower blue eyes glinting with victory. ‘And exclusive rights given to Vanity Fair or Vogue.’
‘Zoe—’
‘Two hundred,’ said Zoe, cutting him off. ‘We have a veto on all pictures and the fee goes to a charity of our choice.’
‘Three hundred and fifty, and the gift list is with Harrods.’
‘Two hundred and twenty-five. No gift list but charity donations encouraged.’
‘Three hundred. And your dress is couture.’
‘No. I’ve already bought it. Two hundred and fifty, and whoever the Foxbrooke illegitimates are, they still get an invite.’
Barbara raised an eyebrow. ‘Two hundred and seventy-five. That’s my final offer.’
‘Two hundred and fifty is mine.’
Silence.
‘Deal,’ said Barbara, extending her hand.
Zoe shook it.
Rory sighed and hung his head.
2
Tuesday – Four days before the wedding
In his adult life, Rory had been dumped from a great height by his ex-fiancée, been thrown out of aeroplanes, been shot at too many times to count, and survived being blown up. However, none of these gut-churning situations created the same sort of anxiety as the prospect of spending an evening watching his mother and future mother-in-law circle each other like stags spoiling for a fight.
Zoe’s mother and his parents had grown up in Kinloch but were each separated by a decade. Mary was ten years older than Barbara, his mum, and Rory’s father had been ten years older still. His dad had been a playboy, but had decided to settle down upon turning forty. His eye landed on Zoe’s mum, but when she refused him, he decided ‘no’ was a word he no longer understood or accepted. Barbara, only just turned eighteen and fiercely ambitious, had set her heart on the title of Countess and saw Mary as an obstacle to be removed.
The situation got completely out of hand and was only resolved when Zoe’s mum ran away to England with Zoe’s dad, and his father paid proper attention to the beautiful teenager trying to catch his eye.
Now Barbara and Mary were meeting formally again.
Zoe had suggested a dinner on neutral territory at a restaurant in Inverness. However, with Brad being one of the most recognisable faces on the planet, interference from the public would not have helped with social bonding. Rory didn’t want them to use the cabin for the meal. It was too small to contain such big personalities, and he wanted to be able to escape to it if everything went south.
The castle was the compromise. Rather than use the long, rectangular table in the dining room, a round one was set up in the library, so no person was perceived to have a preferential position at it. Barbara and Mary were to be placed on either side of Rory, with Brad and Arnold on either side of Zoe. Clive, the owner of Kinloch’s only pub, had been drafted in for the night with his daughter, Kayleigh. Other waiting staff were assisting, with one of Clive’s chefs in charge of the food.
Rory hoped that Clive’s presence in the room would help curb his mother’s tongue, but he was leaving nothing to chance. The lighting was flatteringly low and designed to cover micro-expressions of animosity, the food had been selected to please everyone’s palates, and Zoe had hidden aromatherapy diffusers around the room filled with relaxing essential oils. The meeting had been planned with more care and redundancies built in than one between rival Afghan warlords.
That morning, Mary and Arnold had completed their drive up from England and were resting at Morag’s house, where they were staying for the week of the wedding. Barbara and Brad had flown in from LA by private jet and were staying in the castle’s self-contained flat.
