The Matchmaker's Gift(90)

Abby left her drink at the bar and followed Jessica to the bathroom. Inside, three willowy twentysomethings stood in front of the oversized wall mirrors, quietly chatting and touching up their perfectly symmetrical faces. Jessica had disappeared into a stall, so Abby waited on the tufted bench near the door. She stared at the black-and-white-checked marble floor and tried to calm her fraying nerves.

She’d been sitting for only a minute or two when Diane pushed her way through the doorway. “There you are!” Diane hissed, her eyes flashing with anger. The women by the sinks turned their heads in unison—their lipsticks and mascara wands paused in midair. When Diane saw them staring, she reconsidered her outburst and lowered her voice.

“He isn’t going to sign,” she said cryptically, careful not to mention any names. “He hasn’t given me any real explanation, but in the meantime, I’ve made up my mind. You can pick up your things on Monday, Abby. As of this moment, you are fired.”

Diane left as quickly as she had arrived, leaving both Abby and the trio reeling. For a moment, the bathroom was painfully quiet. Abby’s eyes began to tear, and a moment later, the three tall strangers gathered around her in a show of support.

The first handed Abby a tissue, while the second offered a mint from her purse. The third woman—Abby swore she knew her from somewhere—asked if Abby wanted a glass of water. “I can run to the bar and get you one,” she volunteered.

“Thanks,” said Abby, dabbing her eyes. “But I’m okay.”

“No offense,” said the woman who gave her the tissue, “but your boss seems like a terrible person.”

The woman with the mints nodded emphatically. “We have good instincts about these things.” She lowered her expertly shadowed eyelids and stared at Abby. “You seem really nice though. I bet you weren’t happy working for her anyway.”

There was something about this circle of strangers that Abby found oddly comforting. They were right. The worst was behind her. Abby had been so worried about losing her job that she had stopped asking herself whether she still wanted to keep it.

The familiar-looking woman who’d offered her water flashed a cover-worthy smile. “It’s all going to work out,” she said kindly. “Now, get back to the party and try to have fun. And may I just say, for the record, that your boobs look really good in that dress.”

It was the first thing to make Abby laugh in weeks. “I just bought this bra yesterday!” she said. “My grandmother told me I needed a new one.”

The young woman nodded. “Smart lady,” she said.

Never underestimate the power of a quality undergarment.



* * *



No sooner had the three women left than Jessica emerged from the stall. “I could only hear half of what was going on,” she said. “What on earth was happening out here?”

“Victor won’t sign the prenuptial agreement, Diane fired me from my job, and I’m pretty sure Christy Turlington just complimented me on my boobs?”

Jessica took a seat on the bench. “Wow,” she sighed. “That’s a lot for one trip to the ladies’ room.”

“It is,” Abby agreed. “Diane thinks I meddled in her clients’ personal lives, and I can’t honestly say she was wrong.”

“Are you losing your job because of me?” Jessica looked as if she was about to cry.

“Jessica, no. It’s not because of you—I promise. Ever since my grandmother died, my life has been … complicated. I’ve been having flashes, like when Victor kissed your hand. Little things only I seem to see. And I get these feelings about people … things no one else seems to know. It’s been a mess, but it’s not only you. It happened with Evelyn Morgan and her husband.” She took a breath. “It happened a few weeks ago with Nicole, too.”

A blush crept into Jessica’s cheeks. “Victor told me they’re calling off the wedding,” she whispered.

“I figured,” said Abby, hugging her friend. “The only thing left to figure out now is why they still went ahead with this party.”

“Victor said they’re making some sort of announcement. I think it’s going to happen soon.”



* * *



Abby spent the next half hour trailing the waiters who carried the tastiest hors d’oeuvres. If it hadn’t been for Victor’s surprise announcement, she would have already gone home. The events of the evening had already depleted her, and there wasn’t much left for her to do. But curiosity won out over exhaustion, and she vowed to stay for as long as the miniature hamburgers held out. She was in the middle of consuming her fourth when the servers requested that everyone make their way to the stairs. “Mr. étoile and Ms. Blanchard invite you to join them on the rooftop.”

From up on the terrace, the city sky was a swath of blue ink and crystalline stars. The moon had shrunk to a crescent shape, but it shone with a soft and pearly luster that lit up the terrace in such a way as to make the guests gasp out loud. The rooftop floor was covered with a white velvet runway lined with rows of chairs along both sides. Near the edge of the roof, behind a podium and microphone, an enormous white silk sign was suspended. It bore the silver étoile logo with the words “et Soleil” added in gold.

After the guests had taken their seats, Victor and Nicole approached the platform. Under the lights—both electric and celestial—both of them looked especially radiant. “Welcome, everyone,” Nicole said. “You know, when Victor and I first thought about this party, we intended to celebrate our engagement. Now that the evening is upon us, however, we have decided to celebrate a different kind of union.” Nicole ignored the murmurs of the crowd and continued with her speech. “When I first met Victor étoile, I fell in love with his creative vision. He was the only designer who spoke to me as an equal. He encouraged my questions and my ideas. We embarked on a relationship of mutual admiration and respect. Eventually, as all of you know, we began a romantic relationship as well.” Here, she paused and took Victor’s hand. “Over the past several weeks, however, Victor and I have come to realize that although we are a perfect match creatively, our hearts are meant for other people.” The murmurs of the crowd grew exponentially louder, and Victor stepped up to the microphone.