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Two Months Later
We could have had the wedding anywhere, but Paul and I chose New York City. While we fell in love in Paris and romanced in Rome, New York was our beginning. We first met, kissed, and made love here. We shared our darkest time that became a ray of hope. There was no better place to make our forever bond of love.
As I was told, it was tradition for Cranes to marry at The Frick Collection. One look at the museum was instant love. And for Paul Crane, the board of trustees closed it for a week to allow us to prepare for seventy guests in their garden court to celebrate our day. The list had been exclusive to our family and friends, though a few celebrities and dignitaries were included in our event.
Sitting in The Bouchon Room epitomized grandiosity, wealth, and privilege. It was a Rococo-fashioned boudoir, and nothing could be more excessive. But today, it was my dressing parlor. How I ended up here was still baffling. I still felt like a Cudahy girl who knit, trail walked, and laughed at corny jokes with my parents. But Paul Crane fell in love with me and couldn’t let me go. He wanted me forever.
“Oh, Nadia, you look so beautiful.” Mom’s eyes misted. She never wore more than gloss, but today, her eyes were enhanced by a light shadow. Her hair was twisted with a small crystal and diamond ornament above the bun. Tomas also designed her dress—a beige embellished gown of satin, pearls, and chiffon lace.
“How are you feeling?” The nurse in Mom scanned me for any signs of fatigue. The pregnancy was still at moderate risk, and I had to rest more than usual. I was showing, but the cut of the gown hid some of my baby bump. “I’m fine, Mom, really.”
We were cleared to travel for our honeymoon. Where? I didn’t know. Paul loved to surprise me.
Mags had covered the mirror while styling my hair and makeup. It had taken time for the curls and jewels she added to my long wavy hair. “May I present the future Nadia Crane.” She removed the cover from the mirror with a flourish.
Crane. I’m going to be Paul’s wife. Excitement and joy filled my chest, and my reflection left me speechless.
My hair was a work of art, with pearls and jewels interwoven into my dark waves that were twisted and braided into an elegant chignon. The dress was an off-the-shoulder silk gown with lace organza, caviar beading, pearls, and crystals. She kept the makeup light, with only a muted shadow on my eyes and blush pink gloss on my lips. “Thank you so much, Mags. It’s perfect.”
“I’m happy to be here for you, Nadia. Thank you.”
Tomas and the photographers came in for the shoot. He was impeccable in his tailored suit.
We had considered a remake of my mom’s wedding dress. I laughed, remembering Tomas’s expression when he saw the eighties dress Mom wore on her big day—complete with oversized lace puff sleeves. He compromised by listening to eighties music while his team worked on his design.
“Eighties mom,” he teased her, and she laughed as he kissed her cheeks.
“You look stunning, Nadia.” He kissed my cheek, and Mags fixed it. “Where are the jewels?” he asked.
Harry Winston’s team walked in as if on cue and placed the princess-cut diamond necklace around my neck and cluster diamond earrings in my ears. They were something borrowed.
Our marriage had additions that couldn’t be ignored. Marrying a Crane made me a part of a famous family. That meant a worldwide photo shoot with press. Every stage today had been filmed or photographed, but today’s shoot was for the official release.
I smiled and tried hard not to blink as flashes of light surrounded me. I was positioned before a decorative mirror, the chaise, and the ornate fireplace, holding my wedding bouquet of white roses and lilies. Our wedding photos would be released globally, and it was daunting to think of so many seeing one of our most private moments.
Dad walked in and did a slow spin in his tuxedo. My heart contracted. He was still thin, but the cancer hadn’t returned. He did every treatment and therapy these last few months so he’d be able to walk me down the aisle today.
The photographer positioned my parents next to me, and we held hands. Our happiness shone in our gazes, and I was sure it would be a picture I would treasure always.
“Perfect,” Tomas finally said. He kissed my cheeks and Mom’s, then shook Dad’s hands. “Cecil and I will see you after the ceremony.” Mags and the photographers also left to give me a few moments with my parents.
“How about a quick check of wedding traditions?” Mom asked. “You need something new and blue to complete the wedding tradition of love, purity, and devotion.”
“Two out of three,” Dad half-joked, and Mom scolded him, “It’s all three. Purity also means transparent. You’re going before the world to devote your life together.”
We are devoted to each other.
“Paul sent over something blue, Mom.”
He gave me a pale blue sheer thong and garter to wear, which I agreed to only if he would remove it. His gift and request, but he wasn’t the only one with provisions. He agreed to abstain from sex for two weeks. Sex was something only work could keep him away from, and even that didn’t stop him most of the time. I adored him for it.
“I have something for you that I hope will be our family tradition.” Mom cleared her throat. “When I was a girl, I dreamed of getting married and having a daughter. It was something I wrote about in my diary, and I kept it all these years. I had hoped that one day, I could give it to my daughter, and she would also dream and get married and give the same to a child of her own.” Her hands trembled as she placed an intricate, cast-iron heart-shaped key pin in my palm. “My gift is my book of dreams. This is a key to the diary. I had it made into a pin for you. I hope one day you will make a diary for your children with your hopes and dreams for them. Because with dreams and grace, I have been truly blessed.”
The air whooshed out of my lungs. My eyes watered. “Oh, Mom, it’s perfect.”
“We love you so much,” she choked, and dabbed my eyes.
I looked at Dad, who had tears in his eyes. “My best girls.”
