Chapter 17 SEVENTEEN
Monday morning, Patricia called at eight AM. Lennox was still in bed, half asleep, when her phone started buzzing.
"Good morning, darling! I hope I didn't wake you. We have so much to do today."
Lennox sat up, confused. "Do?"
"The wedding, of course. We need to get started immediately if we're going to pull this off in three weeks. I've already scheduled appointments with three dress boutiques, and we need to finalize the venue by Wednesday at the latest."
"Three weeks?" Lennox's brain was still catching up. "I thought we had more time."
"Callum didn't tell you? He moved the timeline up. Something about wanting it done before the end of the month." Patricia's voice was all business now. "Meet me at Kleinfeld at eleven. Don't be late."
She hung up before Lennox could respond.
Three weeks. They were getting married in three weeks.
Lennox stumbled out of bed and found Callum in the kitchen, already dressed for work, reading something on his tablet.
"Your mom just called. She said the wedding's in three weeks?"
"Yes." He didn't look up. "Is that a problem?"
"You didn't think to mention it?"
"I'm mentioning it now." Callum finally glanced at her. "The sooner we're married, the sooner the clock starts on the two-year requirement. It's logical."
Logical. Right. Because this was all just a business transaction.
"She wants me to meet her at Kleinfeld at eleven. For dress shopping."
"Alright." Callum pulled out his phone, typed something quickly. "Marcus will drive you. He's my personal driver, he'll be downstairs whenever you're ready."
"I can just take an Uber…"
"No." His tone left no room for argument. "You're my fiancée. You don't take Ubers."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black card, set it on the counter between them.
"Use this for whatever you need. The dress, alterations, anything my mother decides you should buy." He went back to his tablet. "There's no limit. Don't worry about the cost."
Lennox stared at the black card sitting on the marble countertop. American Express Centurion. She'd heard of these cards but never actually seen one. No limit. Just spend whatever.
"I can't…"
"You can and you will. We're getting married in three weeks. You need to look the part." Callum grabbed his briefcase, checked his watch. "Marcus knows all the boutiques my mother frequents. He'll take you wherever you need to go today."
"Callum, this is too much…"
"It's nothing." He was already heading toward the elevator. "I have meetings all day. Gerald will handle anything else you need."
And just like that, he was gone. Left her standing in the kitchen in her pajamas, staring at a black card that probably had more money behind it than she'd see in ten lifetimes.
Lennox picked it up slowly. It was heavier than a normal credit card, made of some kind of metal. The only noticeable thing on it, asides from the word centurion that marked it an American Express Centurion card, was just "C. Westbrook" in small letters.
She got dressed in a daze, still processing. A driver. A black card. "Don't worry about the cost."
This was her life now. At least for the next two years.
Marcus turned out to be a man in his fifties with kind eyes and a patient smile. The car was a black Mercedes-Maybach. He opened the door for her like she was someone important, which she guessed she was now.
"Ms. Rivers. I'm Marcus. Mr. Westbrook said you have appointments today?"
"Kleinfeld at eleven. And apparently other places after that."
"Of course. I know it well." He waited until she was settled before closing the door gently. "If you need to stop anywhere else, just let me know."
She made it to Kleinfeld at 10:58. Patricia was already there, sitting in the fancy waiting area like she owned the place. Probably did for all Lennox knew.
"There you are. Come, they're ready for us."
What followed was three hours of being stripped down and dressed up like a doll. Consultants bringing dress after dress, Patricia making snap decisions about what worked and what didn't.
"Too much lace. Too plain. The neckline is wrong. That color washes her out."
Lennox stood on a platform in front of mirrors while strangers pinned and tucked and adjusted. The dresses were beautiful, all of them. The kind of things she'd never imagined wearing. But none of it felt real.
"What do you think of this one?" the consultant asked, gesturing to a dress that probably cost more than a car.
"It's beautiful."
"But do you love it?"
Lennox looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like a bride. But the face staring back felt like a stranger's.
"It's fine," she said.
Patricia made a sound. "Fine isn't good enough. Try the Vera Wang."
More dresses. More pinning. Patricia debating trains and veils and whether cathedral length was too much.
"What do you want, Miss?" the consultant asked gently after the tenth dress.
"I don't know. Whatever works."
"But it's your wedding."
Not really, Lennox wanted to say. It's a business arrangement that apparently came with a wedding.
"The Vera Wang," Patricia declared finally. "It's perfect. Classic, elegant, not trying too hard. We'll take it."
The consultant looked at Lennox for confirmation. She nodded because what else was she going to do? The dress was gorgeous. It didn't matter that she'd barely looked at it, that Patricia had made the decision in thirty seconds.
When the consultant rang up the dress, forty-eight thousand dollars, Lennox pulled out the black card with shaking hands. The woman didn't even blink. Just swiped it like it was normal to spend that much on a single dress.
They moved on to venues. Patricia had narrowed it down to three options, all of them ridiculous. Ballrooms and gardens and places with names Lennox couldn't pronounce.
"The Plaza is classic but might be too obvious," Patricia said in the car between locations. She had decided to ride with Lennox for ‘ease’. Marcus drove them smoothly through traffic while Patricia scrolled through her phone. "The botanical garden is beautiful but November weather is unpredictable. And the estate in the Hamptons is lovely but it's far for guests."
"What does Callum want?"
"He said whatever I think is best." Patricia didn't look up. "He's busy with the company. It's better if we just handle this."
So they did. Patricia handled everything. The venue- The Plaza, because classic and obvious apparently won out. The flowers- white roses and orchids, elegant and timeless. The photographer, the caterer, the string quartet for the ceremony.
Lennox just nodded and agreed and showed up where she was told. Pulled out the black card when asked, watched numbers that made her dizzy flash across screens.
By Wednesday, she'd been to twelve different appointments and made exactly zero decisions. Patricia had an opinion about everything, and since Callum didn't care, there was no point in fighting.
"You're being very flexible," Patricia said after finalizing the menu. "I appreciate that. Some brides are nightmares about every little detail."
"I just want it to be nice."
"It will be perfect. I promise." Patricia patted her hand. "You just focus on being a beautiful bride. I'll handle the rest."
Lennox didn’t want to have to handle the arrangements especially considering there was nothing romantic about it, so, even for that alone, she was grateful for Patricia.