Shopaholic Ties the Knot
Page 42
“We haven’t really talked about it.” I look at Luke. “But I’ve had some ideas. We need to go somewhere really nice and hot. And glamorous. And somewhere I’ve never been before.”
“You know, I’m not sure I’ll be able to fit in much of a honeymoon,” says Luke with a small frown. “We’ve just taken on NorthWest and that means we may be looking at expanding again. So we might have to make do with a long weekend.”
“A long weekend?” I stare at him in dismay. “That’s not a honeymoon!”
“Luke,” says Michael reprovingly. “That won’t do. You have to take your wife on a nice honeymoon. As best man, I insist. Where have you never been, Becky? Venice? Rome? India? Africa?”
“I haven’t been to any of them!”
“I see.” Michael raises his eyebrows. “This could turn out to be some honeymoon.”
“Everyone has seen the world except me. I never even had a gap year. I never did Australia, or Thailand…”
“Neither did I,” says Luke, shrugging.
“I haven’t done anything! You know, Suze’s mother’s best friend in the whole world is a Bolivian peasant.” I look at Luke impressively. “They ground maize together on the plains of the Llanos!”
“Looks like it’s Bolivia,” says Michael to Luke.
“You want to grind maize on our honeymoon?”
“I just think maybe we should broaden our horizons a bit. Like… go backpacking, maybe.”
“Becky, are you aware of the concept of backpacking?” says Luke mildly. “All your possessions in one rucksack. Which you have to carry. Not FedEx.”
“I could do that!” I say indignantly. “Easily! And we’d meet loads of really interesting people—”
“I know interesting people already.”
“You know bankers and PR people! Do you know any Bolivian peasants? Do you know any homeless people?”
“I can’t say I do,” says Luke. “Do you?”
“Well… no,” I admit after a pause. “But that’s not the point. We should!”
“OK, Becky,” says Luke lifting a hand. “I have a solution. You organize the honeymoon. Anywhere you want, as long as it doesn’t take more than two weeks.”
“Really?” I gape at him. “Are you serious?”
“I’m serious. You’re right, we can’t get married and not have a proper honeymoon.” He smiles at me. “Surprise me.”
“Well, OK. I will!”
I take a sip of champagne, feeling all bubbly with excitement. How cool is this? I get to choose the honeymoon! Maybe we should go to an amazing spa in Thailand, or something. Or some spectacular safari…
“Speaking of homeless,” says Luke to Michael, “we’ll be out on the streets in September.”
“Really?” says Michael. “What happened?”
“The lease on our apartment is up — and the owner’s selling. Everyone out.”
“Oh!” I say, suddenly diverted from pleasant visions of me and Luke standing on top of one of the pyramids. “That reminds me. Luke, I heard this really odd conversation just now. Some people were saying that we were going to move to this building. Where did they get that from?”
“It’s a possibility,” says Luke.
“What?” I stare at him blankly. “What do you mean, it’s a possibility? Have you gone mad?”
“Why not?”
I lower my voice a little. “Do you really think I want to live in this stuffy building full of horrible old women who look at you as though you smell?”
“Becky—” interrupts Michael, jerking his head meaningfully.
“It’s true!” I turn to him. “Not one of the people who lives in this building is nice! I’ve met them, and they’re all absolutely—”
Abruptly I halt, as I realize what Michael’s trying to tell me.
“Except… for… Luke’s mother,” I add, trying to sound as natural as possible. “Of course.”
“Good evening, Rebecca,” comes a chilly voice behind me, and I stand up, cheeks flaming.
There she is, standing behind me, wearing a long white Grecian-style dress that falls in pleats to the ground. She’s so thin and pale, she looks just like one of her own pillars.
“Hello, Elinor,” I say politely. “You look lovely. I’m sorry I was a little late.”
“Rebecca,” she replies, and offers me a cheek. “I hope you’ve been circulating? Not just sitting here with Luke?”
“You know, I’m not sure I’ll be able to fit in much of a honeymoon,” says Luke with a small frown. “We’ve just taken on NorthWest and that means we may be looking at expanding again. So we might have to make do with a long weekend.”
“A long weekend?” I stare at him in dismay. “That’s not a honeymoon!”
“Luke,” says Michael reprovingly. “That won’t do. You have to take your wife on a nice honeymoon. As best man, I insist. Where have you never been, Becky? Venice? Rome? India? Africa?”
“I haven’t been to any of them!”
“I see.” Michael raises his eyebrows. “This could turn out to be some honeymoon.”
“Everyone has seen the world except me. I never even had a gap year. I never did Australia, or Thailand…”
“Neither did I,” says Luke, shrugging.
“I haven’t done anything! You know, Suze’s mother’s best friend in the whole world is a Bolivian peasant.” I look at Luke impressively. “They ground maize together on the plains of the Llanos!”
“Looks like it’s Bolivia,” says Michael to Luke.
“You want to grind maize on our honeymoon?”
“I just think maybe we should broaden our horizons a bit. Like… go backpacking, maybe.”
“Becky, are you aware of the concept of backpacking?” says Luke mildly. “All your possessions in one rucksack. Which you have to carry. Not FedEx.”
“I could do that!” I say indignantly. “Easily! And we’d meet loads of really interesting people—”
“I know interesting people already.”
“You know bankers and PR people! Do you know any Bolivian peasants? Do you know any homeless people?”
“I can’t say I do,” says Luke. “Do you?”
“Well… no,” I admit after a pause. “But that’s not the point. We should!”
“OK, Becky,” says Luke lifting a hand. “I have a solution. You organize the honeymoon. Anywhere you want, as long as it doesn’t take more than two weeks.”
“Really?” I gape at him. “Are you serious?”
“I’m serious. You’re right, we can’t get married and not have a proper honeymoon.” He smiles at me. “Surprise me.”
“Well, OK. I will!”
I take a sip of champagne, feeling all bubbly with excitement. How cool is this? I get to choose the honeymoon! Maybe we should go to an amazing spa in Thailand, or something. Or some spectacular safari…
“Speaking of homeless,” says Luke to Michael, “we’ll be out on the streets in September.”
“Really?” says Michael. “What happened?”
“The lease on our apartment is up — and the owner’s selling. Everyone out.”
“Oh!” I say, suddenly diverted from pleasant visions of me and Luke standing on top of one of the pyramids. “That reminds me. Luke, I heard this really odd conversation just now. Some people were saying that we were going to move to this building. Where did they get that from?”
“It’s a possibility,” says Luke.
“What?” I stare at him blankly. “What do you mean, it’s a possibility? Have you gone mad?”
“Why not?”
I lower my voice a little. “Do you really think I want to live in this stuffy building full of horrible old women who look at you as though you smell?”
“Becky—” interrupts Michael, jerking his head meaningfully.
“It’s true!” I turn to him. “Not one of the people who lives in this building is nice! I’ve met them, and they’re all absolutely—”
Abruptly I halt, as I realize what Michael’s trying to tell me.
“Except… for… Luke’s mother,” I add, trying to sound as natural as possible. “Of course.”
“Good evening, Rebecca,” comes a chilly voice behind me, and I stand up, cheeks flaming.
There she is, standing behind me, wearing a long white Grecian-style dress that falls in pleats to the ground. She’s so thin and pale, she looks just like one of her own pillars.
“Hello, Elinor,” I say politely. “You look lovely. I’m sorry I was a little late.”
“Rebecca,” she replies, and offers me a cheek. “I hope you’ve been circulating? Not just sitting here with Luke?”
