Page 94 of Fight for Me

Juanita appeared then with tea sandwiches, including Anne’s favorite: cucumber with dill and watercress.

“Have you bought the dress?” Maria asked, slathering a scone with clotted cream.

“We have an appointment tomorrow,” her mother replied, delicately sipping from her porcelain cup. “Vera is in Paris but she assured me we’d be well taken care of.”

“I get to come,” Maria announced. “Given my new official position.”

“Of course,” Anne agreed.

And that was how all three of them ended up in Vera Wang’s studio in New York the following day. Both Maria and her mother indulged in champagne.

Anne tried on more than a dozen gowns. Each more expensive than the last. Maria and her mother were no help. They liked them all. But none of them said “I’m the one” to her.

Just as she was about to give up, they brought out a dress.

The Dress.

Anne’s breath caught. They helped her into it, fastening buttons and pulling up hidden zippers. When they were done, her mother gasped audibly.

The neckline was V-shaped, but modest. The sleeves were pure handmade lace. The bodice was fitted and fastened with hundreds of Swarovski crystals that sparkled in the light.

Below the bodice, the skirt flared into a twenty-foot train, all of it embellished with lace and crystals.

“Oh, Anne…” her mother breathed. “I think that’s the one.”

Anne could barely breathe. Her gaze was caught on her reflection. This was it. This was her wedding dress. She’d marry Blane in this gown.

Her mom got up and came to stand by her side on the platform. “This is the one,” she said to Anne, tightly gripping her hand.

“Definitely,” Maria seconded, a huge smile on her face.

Anne looked up at her Mom, a watery smile on her lips. “I think so, too.” She turned to the assistant. “How much for this gown?”

“One twenty-five,” she replied.

Anne blanched. “Oh no, I can’t—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” her mother interrupted with a wave of her hand. “That’s the dress and that’s the end of it.” She looked at the assistant. “We want this one. Let’s get the order and measurements. The wedding is in six weeks.” She raised her eyebrows. “I trust that won’t be a problem?” She was using That Tone. The one that brooked no disobedience because money was the ultimate trump card.

“Of course not,” the assistant replied with a big smile. “We’ll get on it right away.” She must work on commission.

Anne endured another hour of pinning and measuring. Thankfully, not much alteration would be needed. She could only hope she wouldn’t be showing yet in six weeks.

Flowers were next. Anne was hopelessly outclassed in this area. Her knowledge was sorely lacking. She let her mother and Maria take care of it. She described what she wanted and they translated that into flower terms for the florist.

After that, she was exhausted. She was so quick to tire now. They headed home and she fell asleep in the limousine.

“Darling, go take a nap.” Her mother woke her when they arrived at home. “I’ll wake you in time to dress for dinner.”

Anne and Maria kissed cheeks and Maria promised to be by tomorrow, after all there was still the cake to order. Then she drove away in her Bentley.

Anne gratefully climbed the stairs to her room and fell into bed. Just then, her cell rang. Blane.

“Hello,” she answered.

“How did the shopping go?”

Anne smiled and curved herself around the phone. “I have a dress.” She was reminded of Julia Roberts inPretty Woman.

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