Page 9 of My Best French Wedding
Exactly her MO, Walter reminded himself, watching Hildy’s curls sway. Was she shaking her head or shuddering?
Even after she turned the corner, her parting salvo rang in his ears. She had to be bluffing. What the hell was all that talk about victory and defeat if the award didn’t matter to her?
Unless she meantWalterdidn’t matter. In which caseeverything that had just happened between them was a nonevent, of negligible importance.
Amazing how she could make him feel like a massive loser even when he “won.”
He really should have been used to it by now.
Wedding Bells for Prescott Heiress?
AGratz on ThatSpecial Report
Ever since news of Fiona Prescott’s engagement to Robin Schafer leaked (pro tip: don’t sport a five-carat pink diamond onthatfinger if you don’t want people to know your business), the world has been waiting to hear where (and how) they would tie the knot. Lake Como? A private island? One of the family estates? Mount Kilimanjaro?
Well, guess what, C-listers and wannabes: Privacy is the new celebrity. News about the Prescott/Schafer nuptials is locked down tighter than a freshly Botoxed forehead. Rumor has it invites went out this month. If you, like us, were left off the list (boo-hoo!), we’ll have to wait for someone to spill all the behind-the-scenes details, because you know this is going to be one for the books.
2Hildy
TWO WEEKS BEFORE THE PRESCOTT-SCHAFER WEDDING
NEW YORK—Sometimes Hildy liked to pause in the middle of a staff meeting to pat herself on the back. Not literally, because she didn’t want to pull focus from junior members of the editorial team. This was more of a quiet inhale of satisfaction.I fucking did it. Built my own magazine from the ground up.
Maybe their offices weren’t on the top floor of a skyscraper with million-dollar views, and their bottom line could be more robust, but you had to savor your victories. This sage advice came directly from a guest columnist in one of the first issues ofLife, Styled. What was the point of winning if you didn’t enjoy it? Or pretend to be happy just to be nominated, if the occasion demanded.
Hildy shook off that unpleasant memory. Nothing but blue skies from now on. Total domination of the lifestyle journalism market was almost within reach.
Good luck stealingthisprize, Walter.Hildy was about to checkmate him so hard he’d be seeing stars.
The thought of scoring the ultimate victory after all this time was like turning her face up to the sun following a decade of winter. Was there a greater feeling in the universe than being in possession of a hot scoop? Especially when the intel was this juicy—and you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt your nemesisdidn’t have a clue. This time, Walter Burns was going down for the count.
She fought to contain a smile as she made a note for a future listicle (Better than Sex: Feelings We Wish We Could Bottle), earning a sharp glance from her managing editor. Corinne would find out soon enough. The only thing more delicious than holding on to a secret this big was blowing someone else’s mind with the reveal. Plus they needed to pack, so time was of the essence.
“Thank you,” Hildy said when the last report had been delivered. Ordinarily she would have had follow-up questions about the concept of vegan ceviche, but today there were bigger fish to marinate. “Corinne, could you hang back for a minute? I need to pick your brain.”
Judging by the speed with which her features, fashion, and food editors fled the room, they must have assumed the discussion was about to turn to data and metrics, aka Corinne’s domain.
“Spill before your head explodes,” Corinne said as soon as they were alone. Her refusal to pander to Hildy’s moods was both her best and worst quality as a co-worker.
Hildy propped her elbows on the table, leaning forward to make intense eye contact. “Guess who’s going to France?”
“You know I hate guessing games. And rhetorical questions, if that’s what you were going for.”
It occurred to Hildy that she could have found a more receptive audience for her headline news, but she couldn’t risk the information leaking beyond this room.
“You and me,” Hildy informed the curmudgeon in the charcoal wool dress.
Corinne’s frown deepened. “We don’t have time for a vacation.”
“Good thing this is work.” Which would strongly resemble a vacation, but that was a fringe benefit.
“What kind of work?” Corinne asked, still wary.
“We’re changing up the August issue.” Hildy made a show oflooking over both shoulders. “I have a hot lead for Turning the Page.”
“Who’s getting married?”
“How do you know it’s a wedding?” The entire point of their most popular monthly column was to commemorate all kinds of major life events, from weddings to graduations, house buying to divorce, childbirth to empty nests, with a lavish full-color photo spread and accompanying feature. Part of theLife, Styledmission was to show there were many chapters in a person’s story, including ones that didn’t come with presents and cake.
