Gabi stood and smoothed her skirt.
Oh, she loathed the black suit with a gold logo and the heavy, cowl-necked cream top. It was the perfect outfit for a funeral director, not a wedding planner.
If it were her own business she would wear a willow-green check with a hint of pink. Gabi had already chosen the fabric.
And she would not wear the black high heels that Bernadetta insisted on, for she felt too tall and bulky as she walked through the foyer alongside the future bride.
And then she saw Alim and Ms Blonde stepping into his private elevator, and Gabi scowled at his departing back, for she envied the intimate experience they were about to share. Ms Blonde was coiling herself around him and whispering into his ear.
Thank God for gated elevators.
They were excellent for regaining self-control, for they slammed shut on the couple and as the world came back from the peripheries Gabi recalle
d that there was a wedding to be arranged.
There were large double doors to the ballroom and Gabi opened them both so that Mona could get the full effect as she stepped in.
It truly was stunning.
Huge crystal chandeliers first drew the eye, but it was a feast in all directions.
‘Molto bello…’ Mona breathed, and it was a relief to slip back into speaking Italian. ‘The ballroom is nothing like I remember it.’
‘Alim, the owner, had it completely refurbished. The floor was sanded back, the chandeliers repaired. The Grande Lucia is once again the place for a wedding.’
‘I know it is,’ Mona admitted. ‘It is actually where James and I met. I was here for my grandparents’ anniversary. James was here, visiting…’ Mona stopped herself from voicing whatever it was she had been about to say. ‘I just don’t like it that Fleur is calling all the shots just because her…’ Mona clapped her lips together. Clearly she didn’t want to say too much.
Gabi, curious by nature, wished that she would.
Fleur was being very elusive.
From the draft guest list, the groom’s side seemed incredibly sparse. Just a best man from Scotland would be flying in and that was all. There was no mention of James’s father.
Gabi wondered if Fleur was widowed.
But Gabi wasn’t there to wonder and her mind turned, as it always did, into making this the very best of weddings.
‘Imagine dancing under those lights at night,’ Mona said.
‘There is nothing more beautiful,’ Gabi assured her, and then pointed up to a small gallery that ran the length of the westerly wall and imagined the select audience watching the proceedings in days long gone.
‘The photographer can get some amazing overhead shots of the dance floor from up there. A photographer I…I mean Matrimoni di Bernadetta regularly uses does the most marvellous time-lapse shots from the gallery. They are stunning.’
She could see that Mona was starting to get excited.
‘When you say you were here for your grandparents’ anniversary,’ Gabi probed, because the thought of time-lapse photos had got her thinking…
‘My grandparents were married here,’ Mona told her. ‘Sometimes they take out the record they danced to on their wedding night.’
‘Really?’
‘I even recognise the floor from their wedding photos. It’s like stepping back in time.’
Yes, even the ballroom floor was stunning—a parquet of mahogany, oak and redwood, all highly polished to reveal a subtle floral mosaic.
‘Your grandparents still dance to their wedding song…’
Mona nodded and Gabi could see she that she was already sold on the venue.