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"Urn ..." Eliza began to feel her cheeks become very red. Just as she was trying to back away from the aggressive reporter, she was accosted by several of her old friends from Spence.
"Liza! Oh my God! We just heard! Congratulations! And by the way, that is an ice rink!" Lindsay said, admiring the ring while the other girls oohed and aahed.
There was nothing like a ring viewing to cause a commotion, and soon even more reporters were swarming around. New York magazine wanted to know if they were having the reception in the city or on the beach. WWD inquired as to the ring's provenance (Neil Lane from Beverly Hills). The Observer asked if she would do a "bridal blog" on their site. Every question directed toward Eliza had nothing to do with her store launch or the collection but instead focused on her engagement to Jeremy "Five Carat" Stone, as the "Tawker" reported had quickly dubbed him.
It was everything she'd ever dreamed of for herself when she was growing up, and yet--and yet--the ring was starting to feel incredibly heavy on her finger. And she was beginning to become just a teensy bit annoyed that not one of the reporters had asked about her new collection.
Finally, when Eliza could no longer hide the fact that she
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didn't have very many details on the impending nuptials, the rest of the reporters ended the bridal inquisition and scattered to attack the goody bags, leaving her alone with the "Tawker" writer once again.
"So, did he have anything to do with the store?" she asked Eliza.
She caught sight of Jeremy across the room. He was politely talking to a few buyers from Japan, who didn't know anyone else at the party and spoke limited English. He really was such a sweetheart. "Oh yes, he built the whole interior," Eliza replied. "According to my design, of course." She smiled fondly, thinking of the two of them throwing paint at each other over the winter and how they had laughed when the ceiling caved in, covering them in plaster, while Jeremy was renovating. She glanced at the corner where he was laughing at something the Japanese buyer was saying.
She caught his eye and he raised his glass to her. She raised hers to him, feeling a pang that she hadn't even had time to say hello. No matter--if the ring promised anything, it was that they had all the time in the world.
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MARA DOESN'T SPEAK EX-BOYFRIEND
"RYAN," MARA BREATHED. AFTER THAT NIGHT ON THE
beach, she'd chalked up that odd jittery feeling she'd felt on seeing him to the fact that she was naked at the time. But now that she was fully clothed, why were her hands still shaking? And why was her throat suddenly dry? Was it just because David was thousands of miles away? And had left her stranded in an airport? Maybe if David were here, seeing Ryan wouldn't affect her so much. She tried to get ahold of herself and stood up straight, willing her voice to stop trembling. "Good to see you."
"Oh, hey," Ryan said, looking a bit uncomfortable when he spotted Mara at the door, blocking his way. "You're off?" he asked. "I mean, it's obvious you're leaving. But didn't the party just start?"
"No, I mean, yes, I mean, I don't have to," Mara said, kicking herself for sounding so flustered. What was it about Ryan and those beautiful greeny blue eyes of his that turned her into a blithering idiot?
"You don't--I mean, you don't have to stay if you don't want
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to. But if you want to, it's, uh, cool." Ryan shrugged, sounding a little nervous himself. "I mean, you can do whatever."
A few people behind him waiting to get inside the party began to harrumph and complain. "Excuse me!" an annoyed forty-something woman cried as she pushed past them, clutching her pink invitation. "Can I get through?"
"Yes, of course," Ryan said, jumping out of her way and into the store. Mara immediately followed him back into the party. They found a quiet corner by the wall of handbags.
"I thought you hated these things," Mara said abruptly as Ryan accepted a caviar-stuffed blini off a white-tuxedoed eater-waiter's tray.
"I thought you lived for these things," Ryan retorted, licking sour cream off his fingers.
Mara frowned. That was a sour statement. She had spent last summer chronicling the social scene for Hamptons magazine, which necessitated attendance at dozens of these kinds of events-- events at which Ryan had rarely made an effort to join her, choosing to sulk at home at being abandoned by his girlfriend instead. "I'm not writing for Hamptons this summer. I'm back on baby duty," Mara explained. "The Finnemores? Eliza's dad is dating the mom. They live a few streets over from you guys."
"The house with all the fake statues?" Ryan asked.
"Bingo."
A smile fleetingly appeared on Ryan's lips, but it disappeared just as quickly.
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"Oysters?" A eater-waiter appeared, offering fat bivalves on a tray of ice.
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