Two hours later, Jack was zipping my red sleeveless dress. Caroline was right. Ihadneeded to lose weight in my shoulders. I’d been sweating and grunting through arm exercises daily for the past few weeks, but my hard work was already beginning to pay off.
I felt free and alive, as if I were floating on air. That doctor’s appointment, like life, could so easily have gone the other way. But my girl was OK. She was going to be OK. I’d had exactly, to a tee, the same issue in my twenties, and while it was something that had been monitored closely for the next several decades, it had never given me any major trouble.
“So what do you think Caroline’s surprising us with?” Jack asked as he tied his black bow tie.
I walked to him, untied it, tied it again, and, pulling it tight, said, “With Caroline, you never know.” Then I stood back to admire him. Jack was devastating in a tux. And he was all mine.
Jack smiled. “It’s the best thing and the worst thing about her.” Then he pulled me in, kissed me, and said, “You look sensational.”
Twenty minutes later, a limo filled with my girls and practically overflowing with champagne pulled up outside the Plaza. James got out to let us in, in his tux, looking every part the movie-star husband, despite the fact that he was actually a lawyer. Adam looked the best I had seen him since he arrived home. But nothing could have been more gorgeous than my three girls, all in gold floor-length gowns of varying styles, their hair fixed and makeup on. I suddenly had the most glorious feeling that we were all going to be OK. Adam was holding Sloane’s hand and smiling, Mark’s arm was draped around Emerson’s shoulder, and I realized that this was my family now. These daughters. These men. They would be in my life forever.
“You look like Oscar statuettes,” Jack said, smiling.
“That’s what we’re channeling,” Emerson said.
She was glowing. I could almost feel her relief. She had been handed a Get Out of Jail Free card today. And she knew it.
“Let’s keep guessing,” Sloane said.
“I think we’re going to the opera,” Emerson said, and Mark, James, and Adam groaned.
“I think we’re going to a movie premiere,” Adam said.
“You can quit guessing,” Caroline interjected. “Because you will never guess. We could do this all night long, and you will never ever figure it out.”
Two minutes later, the limo stopped. I tried to see out the window, but the car was so low and the buildings so tall that I wasn’t sure where we were. Everyone shifted around, sitting on laps and leaning over on hips so that Caroline and James could get out first.
Then Emerson tied a silk scarf around my eyes, despite my protests. “Are you all in on this together?” I asked.
“I swear, Mom,” Emerson said, “I have no idea what’s going on.”
Sloane got out first, and I heard her gasp, followed by Emerson’s “Oh, my God.”
I could feel the butterflies welling in my stomach.
Jack maneuvered me out onto the sidewalk, and I heard Caroline say, “Are you ready, Mom?” Even she seemed nervous.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
She fiddled with the knot on the scarf and said, “OK. You can open your eyes.”
It took me a moment to adjust to the dark sky and bright lights, and at first, I only saw huge glass picture windows. Gorgeous, enviable picture windows with stunning vignettes of furniture and accessories.
Then I looked up. And my gasp joined my daughters’. Right here, on Fifth Avenue in New York City, was a scrawling gold logo against a black granite façade. It read:Sloane Emerson New York.
“How?” I asked in amazement.
“I’ve been working on it for a while,” Caroline said. “I just didn’t want you to know until it was a done deal. That’s why I asked if I could come work for you. I needed to open accounts with your vendors and learn more about your business. I wanted to get it right. I wanted it to be something you could be proud of.”
Tears sprang to my eyes as I hugged my daughter. My beautiful, bold daughter.
“Well, for heaven’s sake,” Sloane said. “Let’s go in!”
Caroline opened the door. She handed me a glass of Veuve Clicquot. I was utterly, totally speechless.
There was no arguing that Caroline had gorgeous taste. The ceiling was gold leaf, the floors dark wood, and the walls an off-white with the most beautiful moldings I had ever seen. In the center of the room, hanging over a round wooden entrance-hall table that was a bestseller in my store, was a tremendous beaded chandelier.
The “before” pictures blown up and scattered around the room displayed a bleak, cold, empty shell with studs for walls and concrete floors. I ran my hand along the marble counter that served as the checkout area.
