Falcon’s house was a beehive of activity. It seemed like the whole population of Riquewihr was there. Catering trucks lined the driveway and some even spilled out towards the back of the house and along the road leading to the driveway.
In the distance, Carla could see men assemble a huge white tent elegantly adorned with folded curtains. Smaller tents of similar color stood with their awnings swaying in the gentle breeze. Two men unloaded a heavy carpet and proceeded to roll it out on the grass.
From inside Falcon’s bedroom, Carla could hear doors slam as florists whose arms were laden with multicolored roses, irises and lilies, filled every nook and cranny with stunning creations.
On top of all the activity, Carla sighted Jacques leading the pack, gesticulating wildly with his arms as he directed the men where to proceed. He must have noticed her looking out from the window above and gave her a thumb up.
Carla, her naked body covered with a sheet, returned the gesture.
Falcon strolled out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Water still dripped from the sides of his neck and down his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist as he stood behind her.
“Ready for the big ceremony tonight?” he whispered in her ear.
Carla wrinkled her nose and replied, “It all seems so chaotic.”
“Your wedding planner seems to be doing alright,” Falcon gestured at Jacques below who was berating a delivery boy pushing a cart full of wine boxes.
“At the back…at the back,” they heard him say, shooing the poor man away.
When Falcon proposed, Carla was ecstatic. She would have been happy just living with him without the sacredness of a wedding ceremony. When she accepted his proposal, he said he wanted a big wedding back in New York.
Carla disagreed.
“I want to get married in Riquewihr, in your house,” she suggested.
Carla was afraid of a big wedding in New York. A prominent name such as Manchester meant celebrities and high society, people who populated his world.
Falcon was more than willing to give her whatever she wanted.
Carla didn’t realize it only meant that the guests would be flying in to Paris, ferried by limousines to the house, instead of arriving in their own cars.
The guest list blew her mind. Senators and other government officials confirmed their attendance. So did movie stars and celebrities from the entrainment world. Falcon’s friends in the cosmetics and perfume industry were coming too. A whole choir of young boys with angelic voices from a neighboring town was contracted to sing during the wedding. A famous quartet and a band were hired to provide the dance music.
Her wedding dress brought its own share of challenges. Carla had no idea where to start and who to call. The list of ateliers who were eager to show off their creations was as long as her arm. Thankfully, she remembered Esmee who was so excited to hear about the news, she practically wept.
“I just thought it would never happen for him,” Esmee said, smiling happily.
Esmee took over all the details and scoured the whole of France in search of seamstresses who were experts in the art of intricate beading. They worked day and night to finish the gown which was embellished with 70,000 different varieties and sizes of Swarovski elements. French lace for the lining and tulle fabric on top, added with a Baroque lace embroidered with French sequins, it had to be the most beautiful gown Carla had ever seen.
The days that followed were a whirlwind of activities that left Carla feeling strained. Everything was so overwhelming.
“We should have eloped and gotten married in front of a judge,” Carla commented.
“And take away the pleasure of showing you off? No way,” Falcon retorted.
Carla smiled and twisted around to face him. She studied his beautiful face. The crescent moon shape that was his brows, the penetrating eyes that stared deeply into hers, the patrician nose and flinty jaw, and the lips that stole a kiss from her.
It still hadn’t sunk in that in a few hours she would be standing in front of a minister promising to love and to hold, to cherish and to care for him for the rest of her life.
“How could I be so lucky,” she thought.
Carla grabbed a corner of the bedsheet wrapped around her and wiped the moisture of his face. Last night she thought they would follow the tradition of not seeing each other the day before the wedding. She had come to terms with that although she missed him already.
But Falcon didn’t believe in those traditions, commanding her to stay with him. Carla was fine with it because she spent the whole night and half of this day in his arms.
“Have you decided where you want to go for our honeymoon?” Falcon asked.
He had earlier suggested Africa, Scotland or anywhere in Asia. Carla had the whole world to choose from and Falcon would indulge her.
