One To Watch(96)
Bea knew Lauren wanted what was best for the show—to avoid another depressing episode on the order of the boat catastrophe. But she also couldn’t help feeling that Lauren had grown attached to her, had begun to root for her success. And she was right, in any case, about their goals at this stage being aligned. It wasn’t Luc’s fault that Sam and Asher had rejected her—there was no sense in punishing him for it.
“Okay,” Bea told Lauren. “I’ll do my best.”
Bea wasn’t sure what Lauren meant by “something special,” but when they got to the hotel in Amboise and began filming, she saw Johnny lounging beside a full-on Cinderella horse-drawn carriage. It was painted gold, driven by a man in fancy pantaloons and a white powdered wig, and drawn by four white horses with elaborately curled manes.
“What is all this?” Bea laughed, somewhere between giddiness and horror.
“I have an invitation that explains everything,” Johnny pronounced, then handed her a scroll that was tied with red ribbon. Bea unfurled it and read aloud:
“Dear Bea, you’ve spent the whole season planning such amazing dates for me and the other men here.” This was hardly true, she noted internally—Lauren and the producers did most of the planning. But she read on anyway: “So today, I wanted to plan something special for you. Will you join me for a royal ball at the Chateau de Chenonceau? I’ll see you there when the clock strikes five. Oh, Jesus,” she added despite herself.
“Do you accept the invitation?” Johnny asked.
“Who would say no to a royal ball?” Bea laughed, giving in to the ridiculousness of it all.
“Excellent.” Johnny held open the door of the carriage, and Bea climbed in.
When they arrived at the Chateau de Chenonceau, they couldn’t see the castle itself—just a small building for buying tickets and an elaborate tree-lined avenue that ran through the immaculate gardens before it reached the palace beyond. The little ticket building had a space that was usually a gift shop, but today, it had been remade into a dressing area for Bea.
“Just wait until you see.” Alison grinned. “Christian Siriano asked if he could make something for you.”
She led Bea to a room filled with light, where a spectacular ball gown was waiting on a dress form. The corseted bodice was a rich forest green with a wide portrait neckline and bracelet sleeves, and the full princess skirt was hand embroidered with thousands upon thousands of swirls of crinkled tulle, deepening in an ombré from the palest mint green at the skirt’s waistline to a green as dark as the bodice at the hem. This wasn’t just a custom gown—this was couture, worthy of the cover of Vogue, of any runway in the world. Made personally and especially for Bea.
“I know it’s not exactly your style,” Alison was saying, “but when Christian called, I knew right away that this would be the perfect occasion. What do you think?”
Bea could barely raise her voice above a whisper. “It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”
As Bea’s team put the finishing touches on her hair and makeup, Bea thought back to her interview with People—could it really have been just seven weeks ago?—when she’d told the interviewer she’d never heard of a fairy tale featuring a fat princess. Now, here she was, feeling more beautiful than she ever had in her life, on her way to attend a ball with a man handsome enough to be cast as a prince in any movie, a man who’d spent the better part of their time together working to convince her how strongly he felt about her. It was going to be a big, special moment on television—but even more than that, it felt to Bea like she had reached a real turning point in her own life. Last winter, alone and missing Ray so intensely, she’d fervently wished for her life to change; today, she couldn’t deny that it had. That she was becoming someone new. That she was believing, despite all the mess of the week so far, that she was on a path toward something better.
“So?” Alison asked. “How do you feel?”
She felt like a dream. She felt like a fraud. She felt like a fucking princess.
“Grateful.” She turned to Alison with tears in her eyes. “I feel really, really grateful.”
Back outside, climbing into the horse-drawn carriage was considerably more difficult now that Bea was wearing a massive gown, but she was fully committed, and with the help of a couple of intrepid sound guys, they made it work. The carriage drove down the center of the tree-lined avenue to the Chateau de Chenonceau, the afternoon sunlight dappling through the leaves and making everything look magical.
The Loire valley was home to dozens of magnificent castles that had belonged to one French noble or another, but the Chateau de Chenonceau was Bea’s favorite. The chateau was built over the Loire river instead of beside it, the castle itself becoming a sort of graceful bridge, its piles and arched girders serving as the foundation of the home. As the outline of the magnificent structure came into view, Bea saw that there were people everywhere, all dressed in period garb like the courtiers who would have been here hundreds of years ago.
“This is incredible,” Bea laughed with amazement—and then she saw Luc.
He was standing at the castle doorway in an immaculate black tuxedo finished with a crisp white bow tie—of all the people there, they were the only two in modern dress—and he was so handsome, she couldn’t humanly believe he was there for her. Luc helped her down from the carriage, then took a moment to admire her.