Brooke:Would you like to continue freaking out or are you feeling better?
Annette:I think I'm okay.
Brooke:I know you're okay.
Chapter Thirteen
Brooke
Depreciation: the allocation of value over a period of time to account for the loss of value as an asset ages or is rendered obsolete.
April
Annette staredat her reflection in the mirror as she pivoted on the pedestal. "I'm not sure."
"Aren't you supposed to have an involuntary reaction? Something more interesting than a sneezing fit, but less troublesome than a seizure?"
She glared at me in the mirror. "This was your idea."
"You're the one who got engaged," I argued from my perch on the tufted white sofa. "Suggesting we find you a wedding dress doesn't seem ridiculous to me."
"But this," she cried, fisting the ball gown's heavy skirts, "thisisridiculous."
"Oh my god, yes." I drained my champagne. Everything in this bridal boutique was blindingly white and the dresses were questionably fashionable, but at least the champagne was free. "Take it off immediately and return it to the America's Cup team. I'm sure they're pissed about someone stealing their sails."
"Perhaps a slimmer silhouette," the saleswoman offered as she flew to the racks. "Something form-fitting, like a column or mermaid."
Annette met my gaze in the mirror, shook her head. She blinked quickly as tears filled her eyes. That was my cue. "Sandra, you've been such a treasure today. We're going to pause here, but we'll be back when the bride has narrowed her ideas. Let's get her out of this giant cupcake, okay?"
Sandra stepped away from the sea of tulle and lace. "You're so lucky to have such a caring maid of honor," she said to Annette. "Butyourinterests are my priority. What doyouwant?"
"I want to get out of this dress and never see it again," Annette replied.
"You are breathtaking in this dress," the saleswoman argued. "Look what it does for your figure. It's just magical." She smiled despite Annette's deep frown. "Let's try it with a veil!"
"I want to get out of this dress," she repeated.
The saleswoman shook her head. "Try to see it with your own eyes. Don't let the opinions of others"—a pointed glare in my direction as she went in search of a veil—"change your mind."
"My eyes are annoyed that I'm still wearing this," Annette replied.
I pushed up from the sofa and moved to my friend's side. Lacing my arm around her waist, I said, "I can have you out of this corset in thirty seconds flat."
"You should add that to your résumé. At least your LinkedIn profile." She patted my head. "It's strange being taller than you."
"Maybe, but now you're at the perfect height for me to nuzzle your boobs." I dropped my cheek to her chest. "I can see why Jackson wants to marry you. These are amazing."
"I know, they really are," she agreed with a laugh. "You can't hear it through the ten miles of satin fabric I'm wearing, but my tummy is rumbling like a thunderstorm."
I pointed to the front of the gown. "You pick up that end. I'll get the other end. We'll waddle back to the dressing room." The saleswoman appeared again, veils draped over her forearms and her hands outstretched as if she meant to help. "We've got this, thanks."
"Oh, well—"
"I wouldn't argue with her, Sandra," Annette interrupted. "She was president of Kappa Alpha Theta at Yale for three years and would've served a fourth year, but the bylaws didn't allow new pledges to take office."
The saleswoman trailed after us as we shuffled toward the dressing room. "Okay, but—"
"And she's the only female hedge fund manager in her firm's one hundred and nineteen year history," Annette continued. "She has a black belt in tae kwon do, speaks fluent French, German, and Mandarin, and consistently reels in the biggest catch during the bonito run. But, go ahead. Tell her she doesn't know how to properly exit me from this whipped cream avalanche."
