The Black Door (25 page)

LIMOUSINES STRETCHED
for miles down Fifth Avenue, inching their way toward Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, the majestic Gothic-style church where services were held for New York’s who’s who. And it seemed that every dignitary and socialite in the city had shown up for today’s service. Ariel sat nervously in the back of her limo, praying that traffic would ease so she wouldn’t be late. Though she had left in plenty of time, the seconds were dragging by at a snail’s pace, and the longer she sat, the more anxious she became.

“How much longer before we get to the church?” she asked the driver.

“Just two more blocks, but in this traffic that might take five to ten minutes,” he said over his shoulder.

“Let’s hope not,” she said, and then focused her attention on the crowded sidewalk. People were busy with their daily routines, rushing to and from work, shopping in the boutiques that lined Fifth Avenue, and lunching casually with friends. She marveled at how normal everything seemed, how the world didn’t stop when life threw you a curveball or two. Ariel closed her eyes for a second to collect her thoughts, but before she could take a trip down memory lane, the driver spoke.

“We’re here, miss.”

Ariel opened her eyes and saw familiar faces filing into the church one by one. She wasn’t in the mood to speak, so she waited for a few minutes until most of the people were inside before exiting the car. She climbed the alabaster marble steps to the grand entrance and walked through the ornate double doors into the sanctuary. A pipe organ was playing softly, the melody wafting through the flying buttresses overhead and echoing gently off of the rose stained glass. Ariel stood for a moment and took in the beauty of the century-old church. As she inhaled, she could smell the scent of orchids and calla lilies, with undertones of frankincense and myrrh. As she slowly exhaled, a sense of calm washed over her, settling the butterflies fluttering in her belly.

“Are you ready?” asked the assistant priest.

“Yes.” She nodded.

He took Ariel by the elbow and escorted her to the front of the church. She was grateful for his support, because her legs were so wobbly that she thought she would stumble forward at any second. From the distance, she could see Preston, as stiff as a board, and tears began streaming down her face.

When she reached the altar, his stoic expression softened into a warm smile, and he took her hand. “You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.” He reached into his tuxedo jacket, took out a white handkerchief, and dabbed the tears from her cheeks.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Ariel Renée Vaughn and Preston Hendricks II into the state of holy matrimony,” the priest said, beginning the wedding of the year. After an hour of singing, receiving communion, reciting of vows, the blessing and exchanging of rings, and lighting of the unity candle, it was official.

“May I introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Preston Hendricks II,” the priest announced after the ceremonial kiss.

Ariel—in a flowing, pearl-white, strapless Elie Saab wedding gown with satin, opera-length gloves—and Preston, in a tailored Armani tuxedo, were the picture of perfection as they strolled down the center aisle of the cathedral. Their faces beamed with happiness as they waved to well-wishers on the way to the waiting limousine.

The reception was held at Cipriani in the landmark Bowery building on Forty-second Street. With its soaring sixty-five-foot ceilings, Corinthian columns, inlaid Italian marble tiling, and dazzling chandeliers, Cipriani was the perfect venue in which to celebrate such an auspicious occasion. Tuxedoed waiters were standing at attention—Buckingham Palace—style—armed with trays of beluga caviar, carpaccio, crab croquettes, asparagus wrapped in pro-sciutto, grilled shrimp bruschetta, and baby lamb chops. There was also an army of waiters ready to serve chilled flutes of Cristal champagne.

Ariel and Preston arrived ahead of their guests and positioned themselves near the entryway, forming an abbreviated receiving line. First to greet the happy couple was none other than Ariel’s foster mother, Mrs. Grant.

“Oh, baby,” she gushed, grabbing both Ariel and Preston in a tight bear hug. “I’m so happy for you two. The ceremony was beautiful. You know I’ve never been to a Catholic wedding, and I thought it was going to be boring, but it was much better than I expected,” she said, without mincing words.

“Thanks, Mom,” Ariel responded, kissing her on the cheek. “You’re sitting at the bridal table.” She pointed to a white, linen-draped table over to the right.

“Okay, baby.” She kissed Ariel on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

Preston and Ariel shook hands, air-kissed, and greeted a parade of some of their closest friends, local politicians, and business associates. Ariel’s toes were beginning to ache from standing on her feet for hours on end, and she was ready to sit down and enjoy the reception, but there were a few more people to greet.

“Congratulations, Dad,” Trey said, shaking his father’s hand.

He clenched Trey’s hand with both of his. “Thanks, son.”

“Judge Hendricks, I hope you’ll be as happy the rest of your life as you are today,” Michele said, looking cuttingly at Ariel.

“Thank you so much.” He hugged Michele. “Hey, who knows? Maybe you guys will be next to walk down that aisle.” He winked.

Ariel wanted to gag, but she just smiled politely, hoping that they wouldn’t linger longer than necessary.

“Excuse me, darlings,” Meri said, interrupting the pseudo-love fest, “but I must kiss the bride
and
groom.”

Ariel couldn’t have been happier to see her old friend, and she reached out and pulled Meri in closer. “Thanks for saving me. I didn’t know how much longer I could stand listening to Michele’s phony well wishes,” she whispered.

“Anytime, darling, but I need to talk to you privately. You’ve been so busy planning your wedding that we’ve missed our weekly chat sessions. And though I just witnessed you getting hitched, I’m still having a hard time wrapping my mind around everything that’s happened in the past few months,” she said softly, to keep Preston from hearing.

“Okay, just give me a minute and I’ll meet you in the back.”

WHEN ALL THE
guests were seated, drinking and chatting among one another, Ariel took the opportunity to steal away.

Meri was seated alone near the rear of the room, far away from the rest of the guests. At her side was a champagne stand with a chilled bottle of Crista!; she handed Ariel a flute of bubbly when she sat down. “Lucy . . . you got some ‘splaining to do!” she sang in a Spanish accent, perfectly mimicking Ricky Ricardo.

“I know. This has been one hell of a crazy whirlwind.” She exhaled, taking a sip of champagne. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“You can skip all the boring stuff and get right down to the nitty-gritty.” Meri scooted her chair closer and perched both elbows on the table, eagerly awaiting the juicy details.

Ariel chuckled slightly. “But of course. Well. . .” She paused and looked toward the ceiling as if recalling the events that led to this day. “You already know that Preston had a mild stroke, but what you don’t know is that the stroke short-circuited his short-term memory.”

“Are you telling me that he doesn’t remember your blatant confession of fucking his son?”

Ariel had called Meri right after she called the paramedics the night Preston collapsed. While in the waiting room, Ariel told Meri verbatim what happened minutes before Preston’s stroke. After a few hours of waiting, the doctors told them that Preston was stable and sleeping comfortably. Meri insisted that they both go home and get some rest, but when Ariel returned later that day, the doctor told her that Preston had lost his short-term memory. He said it wasn’t uncommon with the type of stroke that he had had, and that his memory would probably return in a few months, if not sooner. Ariel realized right then and there that she had a second chance with the one man in the world who truly loved her unconditionally. She couldn’t believe how stupid she had been to believe that Trey loved her. He may have loved sleeping with her, but he surely didn’t love her in the true sense of the word. Their connection was purely physical and nothing more. Ariel had let her feelings of abandonment cloud her judgment. Her mother had left her as a child, and Preston’s preoccupation with his career had brought back those same unworthy feelings. She got involved with the first person who showed her any attention, and unfortunately, that person was Trey But now the past had momentarily been erased, and she didn’t waste any time getting Preston to the altar before he regained his memory

“Fortunately for me, he doesn’t remember the last forty-eight hours prior to the stroke, but the doctor said that his memory could return at any given moment,” she said, with a sense of panic.

“What are you going to do when he remembers the events that led to his stroke?”

“Deny, deny, deny.” She laughed nervously.

Meri looked at her like she had lost her mind. “You don’t honestly think that Preston will simply take your word that none of this happened, do you?”

“It won’t only be my word.” She raised her brow.

“What do you mean?”

“Trey and Michele have both agreed to back up my story,” she said, matter-of-factly as if they were best friends sworn to a secret pact.

“What?” Meri cocked her head to one side, trying to make sense of what she had just heard.

“I know it sounds bizarre, but once Trey found out about his dad’s stroke, he came directly to the hospital from the airport. Apparently, he and Michele had gone away for a long weekend. Anyway, Preston was asleep when he arrived, so I took the opportunity to tell Trey everything that had happened—”

“What did he say?”

“At first, he was mortified that I had confessed our affair, and saddened when I told him that his dad had lost any chance of sitting on the Supreme Court because of his ownership of The Black Door. Once that information sank in, he became furious and—”

“At you?” Meri asked, interrupting.

“Thankfully no. He was furious at the senator for not recommending his dad for the nomination.”

“Why? It’s not like the senator was the man behind The Black Door. Trey was the one who ruined his dad’s chances, not the senator,” Meri said, without of any remorse for Trey.

“I know.” Ariel nodded in agreement. “That’s why Trey called in a huge favor.”

“A favor from whom?”

“Remember that guy who escorted me to the Lancaster benefit a few months ago?”

“How could I forget the good ‘doctor’?” Meri said, referring to Mason’s cover for the evening.

“Apparently, one of Mason’s clients is none other than . . .” She paused for effect. “Are you ready for this?” she asked, lowering her voice so that she wouldn’t be overheard.

Meri scooted her body closer to Ariel, “Who? Who is it? Wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess,” she said eagerly, as if she were on a game show. She thought hard for a moment, and then said, “Libby Lancaster,” referring to the millionaire matriarch.

Ariel shook her head, but before she could continue, Meri spouted out another name. “Bitsy Reynolds?”

“No, it’s not Bitsy; she’s too busy spending her husband’s money on lavish social events to be involved with The Black Door. Mason’s undercover client is none other than Angelica Oglesby,” she whispered.

“Who?” Meri knew all the New York socialites, but this name didn’t ring a bell.

“Angelica Oglesby,” she repeated. “You know, Senator Oglesby’s wife!”

Meri threw her hand to her mouth, her eyes widened with shock. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she shrieked softly.

“No, I’m not kidding. It seems the senator’s loving wife has been busy loving Mason. Anyway, Trey used Angelica’s membership to convince the senator that it would be in his best interest to keep The Black Door under wraps and reconsider his dad for the nomination. Can you believe it?” she asked, still finding it hard to believe the story herself.

Meri exhaled. “Wow, what a story! But what happens once Preston regains his memory?”

“Well, that’s the million-dollar question,” Ariel said, with a tinge of sadness in her voice. “Hopefully, when that day comes, Preston will be a justice and he’ll be so ecstatic about finally achieving his lifelong dream that he’ll forgive me and Trey for deceiving him.”

“What about Michele? Aren’t you afraid that she’ll help Preston refresh his memory sooner rather than later?”

“She’s so happy about being with Trey that she’ll keep her mouth shut in order to keep him. Besides, working for a Supreme Court justice is much more impressive than working for a county judge, and we both know that Michele is quite the little social climber. So you see, with Trey, Michele, and me working together on the same agenda, everything should be fine . . . at least for now.” And with that said, Meri and Ariel rejoined the festivities and par-tied like everything was right with the world.