First Lady (28 page)

David opened his mouth to answer. “Well—”

“Enough chit chat,” Dev interrupted grumpily. “I am not getting married in my bathrobe.” She looked at David, suddenly feeling a little unsure. Maybe she should have paid more attention to the planning of this event. “Right?”

David blinked. “Of course not!”

“Then where’s my damn dress?”

Frank asked, “Haven’t you seen it?”

Dev shook her head in short, jerky movements that made her agitation clear. “They only took my measurements,” her gaze narrowed, “a dozen times. I’ve never seen it.” She turned panicky eyes to David. “What if the designer forgot it and is too afraid to admit it?”

With an exaggerated sigh, David pulled out his cell phone and dialed. He spoke quietly into the tiny device then flipped it closed, placing it on the table. “It’s on the way right now. Your mother is bringing it over after she takes care of some special guest.” The tall man shrugged.

Dev chuckled. “Since when is Aunt Myrtle special? The last wedding the woman went to, someone told her to bring birdseed to shower the happy couple with — the crazy old bird threw the entire bag at the bride and knocked her unconscious. The whole wedding party ended up in the emergency room, waiting for my cousin to come to.”

David just looked at Devlyn. “Is that a true story?” he asked incredulously.

Frank sighed. “I’m sorry to say it’s true. Aunt Myrtle is one of my more interesting relatives.”

“I guess that answers my question,” David muttered, taking another sip. “I’ll make sure security frisks her on the way in. Anyway, according to Agent Tucker your mother is due here in three minutes.”

Dev let out a tiny grunt. She didn’t want to be late for her own wedding.

“By the way,” David said, “the no-fly zone is in place.” A loud clap of thunder boomed. “Not that the tabloids would risk their helicopters in this weather anyway. Between that order and this weather, you’re going to have a nearly normal wedding.”

“Thank God.” Dev slumped down in her chair. She looked at David’s watch again, missing Liza and her ever-present alarms and electronic calendar.
 
“Aren’t the three minutes up yet? I want to see the dress that’s costing me a small—”

“Ahem.” Frank’s gave his daughter a look.

Dev blushed. “Sorry, Dad.”
 
She trained her eyes on her coffee cup. “That’s costing you a fortune.”

Frank gave her a small smile. “Devil, do you really think, with all the people working to make this day a success, the least of which is your mother, that anything is going to go wrong?”

Dev’s shoulders slumped. “I know, Dad, but I love Lauren so much. And I want this to be perfect for her. And you always expect something to go wrong on your wedding day. And—”

“Don’t say another word,” Frank warned, pressing his fingers against Dev’s lips. “Let’s not give the wedding gremlins any ideas, okay?”

“Good plan,” Dev mumbled against his fingers.

The door opened and Janet entered with a huge garment bag.
 
She was wearing a cream-colored suit, and low appreciative murmurs — that she was too preoccupied to hear — bubbled forth from Frank and David. She licked her lips and drew in a deep breath before addressing Dev. “Now, honey…”

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” Dev bolted from the chair. “That’s bad. You never start a conversation with those words unless it’s bad.” She turned wide eyes on David, who did nothing to comfort her.

“Very bad…” he agreed readily.

“What is it?” Frank asked impatiently, getting up from the table and loosening his bow tie as he moved towards Janet.

Janet closed her eyes and laid the garment bag on the table. Then she took a step back as though the bag was filled with explosives. Instinctively, everyone in the room mirrored her actions.

Gaping at the black bag, Devlyn began to sweat. “Oh, God. Oh, God,” she repeated numbly.

“You already said that.”

“Shut up, David, or you’ll be wearing whatever’s in that bag.”

Dev’s voice was as menacing as he’d ever heard it, and the redheaded man turned to gauge his boss’ sincerity. He gulped and looked back at the bag. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

“Come on, now,” Frank said reasonably. “How bad can it be?”

Three sets of incredulous eyes swung his way.

“Really,” he persisted. “Surely you’ve seen it before this morning, Janet. You—”

“No,” Janet corrected quickly. “That damn designer got all sensitive when I wanted to see it. He pitched a fit and started to cry. To cry!”

“Real tears?” Frank asked, astonished.

“I swear to God,” Janet answered, wringing her hands. “There was so much else to do and Michael assured me that Devil had approved everything. But—”

“Enough!” Dev groaned. “Mom, I take it you peeked in the bag?”

Janet nodded miserably, her lower lip trembling, though Dev couldn’t tell if it was from laughter or tears. “May God have mercy on my miserable soul.”

“Where’s the liquor?” David asked loudly, on his way to the refrigerator to see what he could scrounge. “I need a drink.”

Dev’s arm shot out, and she grasped David by the lapel. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re going to open that bag and show me what I’ll be wearing on the biggest day of my life.”

“A smile?” David said, trying to salvage a bit of good humor.

“Only if I get to kill someone.”

“Open the bag, Frank,” David instructed, rapidly moving as far away from Devlyn as he could. Where was Beth when he needed her? She could tackle Dev if she had to, while he ran and hid behind the Secret Service.

“For Pete’s sake! What in the Sam Hill is wrong with you people? It’s only a dress.” Frank quickly unzipped the bag and, with some effort, pulled out the dress, not really taking the time to look at it as he tugged it free. “There.” He held it up, and his voice faltered. “See.”

Collective gasps went around the room.

“Holy shit!” Frank exclaimed, dropping the dress as though it was on fire.

Janet’s mind raced as she tried to think of something, anything, to make Devlyn feel better. “Well, it’s… um… pink and… err…”

“Poofy,” David supplied.
 
“Really, amazingly, gravity-defyingly-poofy.”

“Sweet Mother of God!” Dev’s eyes were the size of saucers. She wasn’t sure whether to burst into tears or laughter. Maybe she’d just do both. “No!” she scrambled away from the dress as though it was a plague shroud. “Wait.” She suddenly stopped. “You don’t really think I’m going to wear this, do you?” She looked hopefully at her mother, who couldn’t meet her gaze.” I don’t believe this!
 
“No way! No! I will not wear that to my wedding. I’ll look like Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother… on crack!”

“But I like the big floppy flowers glued onto the sleeves,” David supplied, smiling wanly at Dev’s murderous glare. “They remind me of those things you put on the bathtub floor to keep from slipping. Only the ones in my house are better looking.”

“I won’t do it,” Dev announced, lifting her chin. “I won’t.” She waggled her finger at her mother. “And you can’t make me. I don’t care if you went through 29 hours of brutal labor. No. No. No.”

“Honey,” Janet soothed. “The wedding is due to start in 20 minutes. You could wear the pants you came over in, I suppose. Or just go ahead and wear the dress, it is the style… umm… somewhere, I’m sure.” But the doubtful note in her voice was clear. “Anyway, we just don’t have time to find anything else. You’re too tall to borrow anything of mine.”

“Maybe it’s not that I’m too tall,” Dev said pointedly. “Maybe it’s that you’re too short. Ouch!” She wasn’t quick enough to move away from her mother’s pinching fingers.

Devlyn began ticking off examples on her fingers. “Jeans. Sweat pants. My underpants. David’s underpants. Bare-assed, buck-naked. All of those options are better than that dress!”

“Devlyn,” David began, taking a deep breath and hoping his life insurance policy was up to date, “Toby Yagasuki is
Japan
’s most renowned designer and the emperor’s cousin. The emperor himself called to say how honored he was that you selected him for this momentous occasion and what an honor it was for his family as well as his nation. Next month we begin trade negotiations in
Tokyo
. If you don’t wear this dress — well, I hate to say it, but it could hinder everything we’re trying to do there.”

Just then Ashley, Christopher and Aaron burst into the room. The boys were in tiny black tuxedos, their fair hair slicked back and their chubby cheeks pink from playing more rowdily than usual while all the grownups were preoccupied. Ashley wore a pale yellow dress that set off her dark hair, which was styled just like her mother’s.

For a second, Devlyn forgot about the dress and smiled down at her children, her gaze full of maternal pride. “Don’t you all look great,” she said softly.

“Thanks, Mom,” Ashley chirped.

“Is this your dress?” Christopher questioned with wide eyes.

Spell broken, Dev made a face. “Yes.”

“Whoa,” Aaron crooned loudly. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s the greatest, Mom,” Ashley agreed heartily. “I can’t wait to see you in it. Lauren will be so happy.”

“You are going to wear it, right, Mom?” Christopher asked, touching the fabric with a tentative finger; he’d been told by several adults that the wedding was almost ready to begin.
 
“It’s just like you promised. I knew you’d keep your promise!”

Dev covered her face with her hands and whimpered her defeat, sending a silent wish to Lauren that she, at least, was having better luck with her specially designed wedding day creation.

*
 
*
 
*

“Stop cursing.”

“I will not.” Lauren’s face was the very picture of disgust. She and Devlyn had traded locations earlier that morning and she was getting dressed in the cabin. “Beth, there is no way on God’s green earth that I am going to wear this monstrosity. None.”

“It doesn’t look as bad on as it did off.” Beth winced, knowing her lie was pitiful.

“Bullshit. I’d rather go naked. And don’t give me that
Japan
trade negotiation excuse again. That won’t work on me. I prefer to buy American anyway. And I saw Mr. Yagasuki skulking around earlier. He was wearing Armani. And his clothing,” she pointed at herself, “wasn’t bright, blinding, and a hideous purple!”

Beth bit back a smirk. Mostly. “It might have been Armani, but he was still wearing lime green slippers.”

“Shut up.”

“You and Dev said no white,” Beth reminded, perching against a tall oak dresser. She was dressed in a tasteful, silk, coffee-colored pantsuit and was, for the first time, glad she was a good 40 pounds heavier than Lauren, who was eyeing her outfit enviously.

With difficulty, Lauren lifted her purple-encased arms and rubbed her throbbing temples. “We didn’t want white because we’ve both been married before. Not because I wanted to look like a whore today.”

“You do not look like a whore.”

Lauren just stared.

“Much.”

“Yankee bitch.”

Beth couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. She loved the way Lauren’s gentle Southern twang made “bitch” sound like “bee-ach.” “Okay, enough lying. That is the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Of course it is,” Lauren said reasonably. “Michael Oaks is out to get me, the bastard. I should have known he’d pull something like this. He won’t have the nerve to do it to Devlyn though.” Her voice turned wistful. “I’ll bet she looks stunning.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Like always.”

“Yeah.” Lauren laughed throatily, feeling immensely appreciative of that fact. “Pretty much like always.”

“I don’t think Michael did this on purpose, Lauren.” Beth didn’t much like being in the position of defending the annoying man. But in this case it was only fair.
 
“Did you see the Oscars this year? I saw a dress or two like this.”

Lauren threw her hands in the air. “On whores!”

Beth’s forehead wrinkled. “Jesus, Lauren. Duh. They weren’t really whores. They only played them in the movie.”

“Did you see the movie? Those were their costumes!”

A tiny snigger escaped Beth.

“God, I hate you.”

“And who could blame you?”

Lauren put a hand on her hip, gestured down her body and looked at Beth with a beseeching expression. “Would you wear this?”

The dress was strapless and very low cut, with nothing but feathers covering both her breasts. The body of the dress fit her like a second skin, lizard skin to be exact, and the hem, which reached the floor, was slit up to mid thigh and also covered in purple feathers.

Beth bit her lower lip. “Not on a dare.”

Lauren nodded. “Help me out of this then. I think I have a skirt in my bag back at the main house. It’s better than jeans. Devlyn will understand.”

Beth pushed off the dresser only to pause mid-step when there was a knock on the door.

Lauren’s gaze burned a hole through the door. “If that’s Michael Oaks or that designer from Hell, tell him to come right in.”