Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Your mother was kind enough to find me a client—” Celia began.
“Yes, Penelope Penobscot—you remember her, darling—don’t you?” Mother Frances cut in. “Of the Boston Penobscots? But Cece here wants to charge her to decorate her condo!”
Peter frowned and raked a hand through his thinning blond hair.
“Cece darling, really? You should know you can’t charge a friend—especially one of Mummy’s dear friends. Why always this obsession with money?”
Dios! Because I don’t have any! Celia wanted to shout. Because I didn’t grow up obscenely wealthy like you and your snobby family!
But she held her tongue, as she always did. She didn’t want to drive a wedge between Peter and his mother—she’d already heard them fighting over the fact that he was “Marrying the Help” on at least one occasion. Now that Mother Frances was finally beginning to accept her and the fact that she and Peter were actually getting married, Celia didn’t want to ruin it.
“I know you grew up in a, er, disadvantaged situation,” Peter went on, not waiting for Celia to answer. “But you won’t ever have to worry about money again once we get married. Can you believe the wedding is just over a month from now? An elegant Christmas Eve wedding—it’s going to be just perfect!”
“I’m excited about the wedding too,” Celia began. “But the point is—”
“The point is to be happy together on this wonderful day,” Peter interrupted smoothly. “I mean food, fun and family—what more could one ask for?” He looked at the bag of marshmallows that Celia had out for the candied yams and shook his head. “But speaking of food…Darling, I really hope you’re not eating any of those—you know how sweets go straight to your hips. You want to fit into that gorgeous wedding dress we picked out—right?”
“They’re for the candied yams—I haven’t touched them!” Celia said quickly, her cheeks getting hot. All of Peter’s family seemed to be naturally skinny—his sisters didn’t ever have to exercise—and they all had the anatomy of toothpicks. Even her Mother-in-Law-to-be was thinner than she was—though she’d been dieting for months.
Unfortunately, Celia wasn’t sure that would ever change. She had always been big in the hips and ass department. It was probably part of her heritage—though she couldn’t be sure since she’d been raised in the Foster Care system and didn’t actually have contact with any of her family.
“Now speaking of the wedding, I really have to go over the guest list with you again, sweetums,” Mother Frances said, hooking her arm through her son’s. “I’ve had to add a few more people to fill out the church, since there’s almost no one on the bride’s side…”
And she towed him into the other room, still talking rapidly.
Madre de Dios… Celia watched them go and then turned back to the task at hand with a sigh. She was peeling potatoes in the sink and she looked out the window at the cars whizzing by on the winding road some distance away.
Bayshore Boulevard was a long, curving road which boasted the longest unbroken stretch of sidewalk in the US. It was featured in all kinds of articles and Instagram posts about moving to Tampa (though these same articles neglected to mention that it was hot, humid, and sticky 3/4ths of the year and that hurricane season was no joke.) The main thing was, it was expensive. If the Tampa Bay area was a Monopoly board, Bayshore would have been Boardwalk. And the mansion Peter had bought—and Celia had decorated—was one of the most expensive properties in the area.
It still amazed Celia that she was living in such luxury. It seemed only yesterday that she’d been trapped in a one-bedroom apartment, struggling to make ends meet and hoping her business wouldn’t fold. But then Peter had come into her life and hired her to decorate one of his properties—an office building in downtown Tampa that he had recently acquired.
Celia had only put in a bid on a whim—and she’d priced it as low as possible, thinking that if she got it, she could use the fact that she’d decorated for Peter Thielgood as a selling point on her resume. But she’d never expected to actually get picked—or for Peter to sweep her off her feet as he had done.
He claimed to have fallen in love with her “Latin looks”—her long dark hair and large brown eyes. They were the exact opposite of his own colorless blond hair and pale blue eyes. He also claimed to love her “fiery spirit” though to be honest, he often got annoyed when she disagreed with him about anything.
But that was to be expected, Celia told herself, since he’d been raised rich and his mother pretty much agreed with everything he said or did. It was natural to be a bit arrogant considering his upbringing.