Free Shopaholic Ties the Knot by Sophie Kinsella Page A

wore . . .”
    “Oh, Mum . . .” Impulsively I give her a hug. “It’s a . . . a really lovely dress . . .”
    How exactly do I add, But I’m not wearing it?
    “And it fits you perfectly,” gulps Mum, and rummages for a tissue. “But it’s your decision.” She blows her nose. “If you don’t think it suits you . . . just say so. I won’t mind.”
    “I . . . well . . .”
    Oh God.
    “I’ll . . . think about it,” I manage at last, and give Mum a lame smile.
     
     
    We put the wedding dress back in its bag, and have some sandwiches for lunch, and watch an old episode of
Changing Rooms
on the new cable telly Mum and Dad have had installed. And then, although it’s a bit early, I go upstairs and start getting ready to see Elinor. Luke’s mother is one of those Manhattan women who always look completely and utterly immaculate, and today of all days I want to match her in the smartness stakes.
    I put on the DKNY suit I bought myself for Christmas, brand-new tights, and my new Prada sample sale shoes. Then I survey my appearance carefully, looking all over for specks or creases. I’m not going to be caught out this time. I’m not going to have a single stray thread or crumpled bit which her beady X-ray eyes can zoom in on.
    I’ve just about decided that I look OK, when Mum comes busting into my bedroom. She’s dressed smartly in a purple Windsmoor suit and her face is glowing with anticipation.
    “How do I look?” she says with a little laugh. “Smart enough for Claridges?”
    “You look lovely, Mum! That color really suits you. Let me just . . .”
    I reach for a tissue, dampen it under the tap, and wipe at her cheeks where she’s copied Janice’s badger-look approach to blusher.
    “There. Perfect.”
    “Thank you, darling!” Mum peers at herself in the wardrobe mirror. “Well, this will be nice. Meeting Luke’s mother at last.”
    “Mmm,” I say noncommittally.
    “I expect we’ll get to be quite good friends! What with getting together over the wedding preparations . . . You know, Margot across the road is such good friends with her son-in-law’s mother, they take holidays together. She says she hasn’t lost a daughter, she’s gained a friend!”
    Mum sounds really excited. How can I prepare her for the truth?
    “And Elinor certainly sounds lovely! The way Luke describes her. He seems so fond of her!”
    “Yes, he is,” I admit grudgingly. “Incredibly fond.”
    “He was telling us this morning about all the wonderful charity work she does. She must have a heart of gold!”
    As Mum prattles on, I tune out and remember a conversation I had with Luke’s stepmum, Annabel, when she and his dad came out to visit us.
    I completely adore Annabel. She’s very different from Elinor, much softer and quieter, but with a lovely smile that lights up her whole face. She and Luke’s father live in a sleepy area of Devon near the beach, and I really wish we could spend more time with them. But Luke left home at eighteen, and he hardly ever goes back. In fact, I get the feeling he thinks his father slightly wasted his life by settling down as a provincial lawyer, instead of conquering the world.
    When they came to New York, Annabel and I ended up having an afternoon alone together. We walked around Central Park talking about loads of different things, and it seemed as though no subject was off-limits. So at last I took a deep breath and asked her what I’ve always wanted to know—which is how she can stand Luke being so dazzled by Elinor. I mean, Elinor may be his biological mother, but Annabel has been there for him all his life. She was the one who looked after him when he was ill and helped him with his homework and cooked his supper every night. And now she’s been pushed aside.
    For an instant I could see the pain in Annabel’s face. But then she kind of smiled and said she completely understood it. That Luke had been desperate to know his real mother since he was a tiny child, and now that