The Christmas Wedding - James Patterson [53]
There is also some news out of Boston, where the other newlyweds are frolicking. Now they have another reason to rejoice. I’ll get right to it: Farrar, Straus and Giroux bought Seth’s novel. Of course, they want a million changes, and, of course, they don’t have a release date, and, of course…well, who cares? They bought it! So now he and Andie are going to get to work on their children’s book…and…all’s well that ends well.
Last, and certainly not least, Claire, Gus, Gabrielle, and Toby have moved to Stockbridge. This is indeed good news. Next year, Gus will be attending Stockbridge High, where I will be watching over him myself.
I guess that’s it for now.
Oh, yes. One other thing.
Marty and I couldn’t be happier.
Thank you all for being a part of this adventure—like no other, I suspect. I don’t know what we would have done without you. Seriously, that’s it for now. I’ve got to go sort through the mail, then we’ll have a little bit of wine, then I’ll see what lesson I have to teach tomorrow, then I’ll make sure we have enough food for the breakfast tomorrow, then…
Hold my hand, Marty. Hold it tight. You’re such a doll.
[Camera moves to Marty:] I am a doll, aren’t I. You’re a lucky girl.
I don’t have the slightest idea why I’m starting to cry. Maybe because I am the luckiest girl in the world. Our family has had its share of heartbreak and failure, of sickness and death, but we always have each other.
So I’d better stop talking.
Oh, wait. There is one last thing I wanted to say…
See you next Christmas, and see you in my dreams.
Yay.
What happens in Monte Carlo…
could get you murdered.
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JUST OVER SEVENTY minutes after leaving Bern’s airport, the jet touched down on the tarmac in Nice so smoothly, it felt like we’d landed in butter. Or maybe it was the champagne, already numbing my senses, coloring everything wonderful. Wonderful is what I had been promised. Wonderful is what all of us, for different reasons, needed. We needed to bathe ourselves in luxury. We needed a four-day dream.
“I am officially on vacation!” I announced to the group, taking the last swallow of my champagne.
“It’s about bloody time, love!” Winnie reached across the aisle and grabbed my arm. Serena, seated across from me in the small cabin, raised her empty glass and tossed her long blond hair. “Bonjour, Monte Carlo. And that, my friends, is the limit of my French.”
“Don’t forget chardonnay and merlot,” I added.
“Touché,” she said.
“See, your vocabulary’s getting better by the second.”
I looked around at my friends. How did I get so lucky? Serena Schofield, the Amazon blonde—a former U.S. Olympic skier who placed fifth in the downhill at Lillehammer. Bryah Gordon, born in Johannesburg under apartheid, the youngest of our clan at thirty-one and the smartest by far, our resident encyclopedia on topics large and trivial, also a beauty, with flawless coffee-colored skin and kinky African hair cropped at the chin. And Winnie Brookes, of course, the exotic Brit—the Diva, we called her—as breathtaking as any runway model working today, who, most of the time, seemed utterly oblivious to her beauty.
Then there was me. Abbie Elliot. What these interesting and gorgeous women were doing with me was anyone’s guess. For all the complaints I had about leaving the States and moving to Switzerland, all I had to do was look around at these women to find a silver lining.
“I think for the rest of this trip, I’m going to speak with a British accent.” I turned to Winnie. “Bloody good show, love,” I tried, aiming for something out of Monty Python.
“And I’m going to be an American,” she replied. “Hey, how ya doin’? You got any countries we can invade?”
We disembarked the private jet—thank you, Serena—and were bathed in the rays of a welcoming, lowering sun. An SUV drove us to the area of the Côte d’Azur Airport marked “Private Aviation,” where our bags were waiting inside.
“Do we have a car?” Winnie asked.
“Cars? Cars are so pedestrian, dahling,” said Serena in her best Zsa Zsa impression,