Page 62 of Degrees of Control
“Dad certainly rides in style,” I say, raising my eyebrows at the over-the-top extravagance as the privacy glass in front of and behind us slide into place.
“It’s custom made for privacy,” my mom says shrugging, seemingly embarrassed a little herself by the opulence. The driver veers into the vast lanes of traffic and I’m awed by the sheer magnitude of the city as we drive right through the heart of it. Mom pushes a button on the side of her door that engages the internal speaker system, giving instruction on which shops we’ll be stopping at.
I am swept from one bridal boutique to the next in search of the perfect dress. It is hard not to get caught up in their exuberance and after hours of shopping and laughing, I find the perfect mermaid style dress. “Mom, this is the one,” I say, staring at the gown in the window.
“Could I try it,” I ask?
“The dress in the window is just a design. We do not have that particular dress in any size but the one on display. It may be close, though,” the seamstress says, assessing my size.
While not the perfect fit, it is everything I could have imagined. It has long white lacy sleeves, connected only by the sheerest of tiny straps that connect at the shoulder, and then crisscross down my back to the top of my hips, leaving my back completely bare. It has a flowing train that swirls around me, and I am absolutely in love with it.
“Dear, turn around now,” the seamstress says, tucking and measuring as we talk, sharing that the dress was handmade by a new designer who provided it as a window display in hopes that someone would like the design. After another hour of fittings, I am assured the dress will fit me just as though it were costumed tailored and be done in plenty of time for the wedding.
We are just leaving the bridal shop when my phone rings and I answer recognizing my father’s number. “Hi Dad. I’ll check with her. She might have left it on silent or in the car,” I say, gesturing to my mom’s purse.
“How’s the shopping coming?”
“Excellent, I found a dress, but I think they are going to drag me around to a few more shops,” I say, feigning dismay.
“Well, have fun and let your mom know to respond to my text when she has a chance,” he says.
“Will do.”
They proceed to drag me to Dolce and Gabbana for lingerie, Chloe for a couple stylish dresses and shoes, and just for good measure we shop in Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and Prada at Saks Fifth Avenue. We have had a great day, but I am thoroughly exhausted of shopping.
“No more,” I say, slumping into the cool interior of the limo.
“Now you can say you’ve shopped New York City,” Jenny says, laughing at me as we all slide into the middle section of the limo.
“Oh my God, that’s my shopping trip for the year!” I say.
“I was pretty impressed with Sheldon’s team. They were pretty good at staying within range, but letting us have our own space,” she says.
“Definitely. Did you see Matt deal with the reporter outside of Gucci?”
“Yep, pretty smooth,” Jenny says.
“You know at one time the level of security we have in place would have made me crazy, but I’m really thankful for it,” I say, sending Chase a message.
Message:Found a dress. Almost to my parents’ house.
Reply:Excellent. I can’t wait to see you in it.
Message:Not until Christmas Eve!
Reply:Still planning to be home tomorrow?
Message:Yes, Dad’s taking us out for dinner tonight. Jenny and I are going to Torzial in the morning to scope out the space.
My phone begins playing Chase’s ringtone immediately.
“Where are you going for dinner? Jay didn’t mention it to me earlier,” he says.
“My mom just mentioned it to me before I texted you,” I say, rolling my eyes upward for my mom and Jenny’s benefit. “You’ll also be pleased to know that I sent a text to Sheldon before I messaged you. I think he’s working with Jay and Dad’s team on the logistics for tonight. Everything is fine,” I say.
“You’re halfway across the country and that maniac is still out there somewhere,” Chase says.
“Chase, we’ve been shopping all over New York City today. Security was with us the entire time. We’re going to dinner, that’s all. I’m sure Sheldon has it all under control,” I say, hoping to reassure him.
