The Christmas Wedding - James Patterson [54]
We followed Serena out a door to a large landing pad—and a large, sleek silver-and-gray helicopter.
“Serena, really!” said Bryah, with maybe a hint of nerves. Bryah didn’t get out much. Her husband, Colton, was what you might call controlling if you were being polite. If you weren’t being polite, you might call him something else. Long and short of it, Bryah had never been on a girls’ weekend like this.
“Why drive when we can fly?” Serena ran over to the helicopter and climbed in. I couldn’t believe it—but then again, I could. Money was no object, and Serena wanted us to live a fantasy for four days.
“You couldn’t find anything bigger?” I asked.
Once we were fastened in, the helicopter lifted quickly, causing a minor rebellion in my stomach. But soon we were soaring over Monaco, and nothing else mattered but the sloping hills of the French Riviera, the blue expanse of the Mediterranean, dotted with yachts and sailboats heading back to port for the evening, and the pink-green sky as the sun began its descent toward the horizon.
“Did you know Monaco is the second-smallest country in the world?” Bryah asked.
“Fascinating,” said Winnie. She and I made eye contact, suppressing smiles.
“Bryah, honey,” I said, patting her leg, “we’re going to have fun. Don’t be nervous.” A mere seven minutes later, we were landing on a helipad by the beach. We unstrapped our restraints and waited for the pilot to open the door.
“Wait,” said Serena. She reached into her bag and removed three overstuffed envelopes, handing one to each of us. I opened mine and found a thick wad of euros.
“What is this?” Winnie asked.
“That’s fifty thousand euros each,” she said. “Gamble with it. Shop. Do whatever you want. Just promise me you’ll spend it.”
“Can I buy a car?” I asked. “A small island?”
“How about a movie star?” Winnie asked. “Think I can rent Brad Pitt for the weekend?”
“Brad Pitt? Too old, Win,” I said. “One of those younger boys. Zac Efron, maybe.”
“You want an athlete,” Serena suggested. “David Beckham. Rafa Nadal.”
“Rafa, maybe,” Winnie agreed.
We looked over at Bryah, who had remained silent. She considered the money, looked at Serena, and allowed a wry smile to play over her face. “You could get into a spot of trouble with this bit of money,” she said.
We looked at one another, giddy and slightly intoxicated, relaxed and eager, and broke into laughter. Outside the window of the helicopter was Monte Carlo, the playground for the rich and famous. We were all stifled in our own way, mothers and wives trying to adapt to life in a Swiss city, and these four days would be our chance to escape. To live someone else’s life.
“Bryah,” I said, “I think that’s the idea.”
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
THE INVITATION LIST
PROLOGUE: You’re Invited, or Else
BOOK ONE: Christmas Dreaming
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
BOOK TWO: The Days Before Christmas
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
BOOK THREE: The Christmas Wedding
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
A Preview of Guilty