Then he blinks — and it’s as though he’s closed the camera shutter. Back into normal mode. Businesslike. Sure of himself.
“Anyway. I’m glad Michael and I were able to make up,” he says, taking a sip from the water bottle he’s carrying.
“Me too.”
“He saw my point of view in the end. The publicity that we’ll get through the foundation will benefit the company enormously. The fact that it’s my mother’s charity is largely irrelevant.”
“Yes,” I say reluctantly. “I suppose so.”
I really don’t want to get into a conversation about Luke’s mother right now, so I open the vows book again.
“Hey, here’s one in rhyme…”
As we arrive back at Penn Station, it’s crowded with people. Luke heads off to a rest room, and I head to a kiosk to buy a candy bar. I walk straight past a stand of newspapers — then stop. Hang on a minute. What was that?
I retrace my steps and stare at the New York Post. Right at the top, flagging an inside feature, is a little picture of Elinor.
I grab the paper and turn quickly to the inside page.
There’s a headline, “How to Fight Charity Fatigue.” Then there’s a picture of Elinor with a frosty smile, standing on the steps of some big building and handing over a check to some man in a suit. My eyes run puzzledly over the caption. Elinor Sherman has battled against apathy to raise money for a cause she believes in.
Wasn’t the photo opportunity supposed to be for Luke?
I scan the piece quickly, searching for any mention of Brandon Communications. For any mention of Luke. But I get to the end of the page — and his name hasn’t appeared once. It’s as though he doesn’t figure at all.
I stare down at the page in disbelief.
After everything he’s done for her. How can she treat him like this?
“What’s that?”
I give a startled jump at Luke’s voice. For an instant I consider hiding the paper under my coat. But then, there’s no point, is there? He’ll see it sooner or later.
“Luke…” I hesitate — then swivel the page so he can see it.
“Is that my mother?” Luke looks astounded. “She never told me anything was set up. Let me have a look.”
“Luke…” I take a deep breath. “It doesn’t mention you anywhere. Or the company.”
I wince as I see him scanning the page; as I watch the sheer disbelief growing on his face. It’s been a hard enough day already, without discovering that his mother has completely screwed him.
“Didn’t she even tell you she was doing the interview?”
Luke doesn’t reply. He takes out his mobile, jabs in a number, and waits for a few moments. Then he makes a noise of frustration.
“I forgot. She’s gone back to Switzerland.”
I’d forgotten that too. She’s gone to “visit her friends” again, in time for the wedding. This time she’s staying for two whole months, which means she’s having the full works. She must have done the interview just before she left.
I try to take Luke’s hand, but he doesn’t respond. God knows what he’s thinking.
“Luke… maybe there’s some explanation—”
“Let’s forget it.”
“But—”
“Just forget it.” There’s an edge to his voice that makes me flinch. “It’s been a long, difficult day. Let’s just get home.”
THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF REBECCA BLOOMWOOD
I, REBECCA JANE BLOOMWOOD, do make, publish, and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament.
FIRST: I hereby revoke all former Wills and Codicils by me made.
SECOND: (a) I give and bequeath to SUSAN CLEATH-STUART my collection of shoes, all my jeans, my tan leather coat, all my makeup except the Chanel lipstick, my leather floor cube, my red Kate Spade handbag, 1 my silver ring with the moonstone, and my painting of two elephants.
(b) I give and bequeath to my mother JANE BLOOMWOOD all my remaining handbags, my Chanel lipstick, all my jewelry, my Barneys white cotton duvet set, my waffle-weave dressing gown, my suede cushions, my Venetian glass vase, my collection of jam spoons, and my Tiffany watch. 2
(c) I give and bequeath to my father GRAHAM BLOOMWOOD my chess set, my CDs of classical music that he gave me for Christmas, my Bill Amberg weekend bag, my titanium desk lamp, and the incomplete manuscript of my self-help book Manage Money the Bloomwood Way, all rights of which are hereby passed to him.
(d) I give and bequeath to my friend DANNY KOVITZ all my old copies of British Vogue, 3 my lava lamp, my customized denim jacket, and my juicer.(e) I give and bequeath to my friend ERIN GAYLER my Tse cashmere jumper, my Donna Karan evening dress, all my Betsey Johnson dresses, and my Louis Vuitton hair bobbles.