Whose Wedding Is It Anyway? by Melissa Senate Read Free Book Online Page A

conversation with Jane in my cubicle, Philippa had poked her head in the moment I hung up and said, “At least you have a love life, Eloise. At least you have a boyfriend, even if he’s always away on business with whatshername—What is her name, his flirty co-worker who’s always all over him?”
    Did Philippa listen to every phone conversation I had? Apparently so.
    “Ashley,” I’d said. But you can call me Ash because I smolder. Really. I heard her say it twice at Noah’s company Christmas party last month.
    “That’s right, Ashley. It’s number two on my list of baby names—not that I even have a boyfriend, let alone a husband. Let alone a baby! Hey, which do you like better for a girl—Ashley or Hayley?”
    She didn’t wait for an answer. After a five-minute monologue on the merits of each name in turn, she sat herself down in my guest chair and told me every detail of her lack of a love life at age twenty-five. I realized the only way to shut her up was to find her someone to date. So a few days later, when Noah returned from his latest trip, I asked him if he knew anyone to set Philippa up with, someone sort of nerdy yet polished. A refined geek. He came up with Parker Gersh, Hot News ’s managing editor at age twenty-seven. For their first date, the four of us went out for dinner, and four months later Philippa waltzed into work with a two-carat diamond ring from Tiffany’s sparkling on her finger.
    She insisted she owed her happiness all to me and Noah,that both of us simply had to be in their wedding as bridesmaid and usher. From that moment on, she’d tortured me with what she referred to as my bridesmaidly duty: flipping through bride magazines on our lunch hour, attending the New Brides Expo at the Javitz Center, listening to every single thing Parker Gersh said and did. When I myself came to work with my own ring, she said, “Fabulous! Now we’ll be in each other’s weddings!” (It was then that Astrid happened by, and none too soon, since Philippa had been about to put deposits down on a reception site.)
    Just like that, Philippa was one of my bridesmaids. Three or four or ten times a day ever since, she’d dropped by my cubicle to talk wedding, and I’d gleaned that she wasn’t close to her family and had no girlfriends. None. My girlfriends were, outside of my grandmother, the most important people in the world to me. I didn’t know what I’d do without them. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have no friends. Had Philippa not gone to high school? College? Work?
    “The Modern Bride and the Classic Bride are wanted in the conference room for a meeting,” announced Astrid’s assistant.
    Philippa’s face disappeared. I could hear her shoes clicking in the hallway as she ran.
    When I walked into the conference room, I had to blink. Twice. Where was I? The set of a horror movie?
    One end of the room had been turned into a dominatrix’s parlor. The other end was pure Laura Ashley. Both ends were clearly created out of Astrid’s office furniture.
    Philippa sat on a tall-backed toile-covered chair beside a lace-covered table. She was ogling the two wrapped gifts on the table. Behind her was a backdrop of a living room.A fake window with blue-and-white-checked curtains. Wood furniture, heavy on the Americana. A vase of sunflowers. A bookcase with…quelle surprise, the classics. Portrait of a Lady was prominent.
    At the other end of the room was Astrid’s bloodred leather ottoman. Propped behind it was another backdrop featuring the living room of a vampire’s New York City penthouse. The walls were painted gunmetal. There was one window, with a drawn shade that looked to be made of aluminum foil. A sofa, seemingly made of concrete. A coffee table made entirely of Popsicle sticks.
    “Eloise, please seat yourself in the Modern Bride’s dwelling,” Astrid said.
    “Which one is it?” I asked, but no one even cracked a smile.
    I sat on the leather ottoman. Next to it was