CHAPTER TWO – HIGH OR LOW - KEY

As the main course of beef tenderloin and roasted fingerling potatoes arrived, the conversation mercifully took a different tack towards lighter topics - the latest society gala, summer plans in the Hamptons, and of course, the upcoming nuptials. "Have you two lovebirds decided on a venue yet?" Lillian asked, dabbing at the corners of her mouth delicately with her cloth napkin. Charlotte and Alexander exchanged a look. "We were actually thinking we might want to do something a little more...low-key?" she ventured. Diane visibly started, her fork frozen in mid-air. "Low-key? Whatever do you mean?" "Well..." Charlotte chose her words carefully. "Maybe not this huge elaborate affair. A smaller guest list, a non-traditional location...?" "But darling, you simply must have your wedding at one of the city's grand hotels like the Plaza," Lillian protested. "It's a rite of passage for Manhattan's elite." Alexander jumped in, his tone placating. "We'll definitely keep all the options open. We're just in the beginning planning stages." "Of course, of course," Diane said in a tone that implied she did not agree with them keeping any options remotely open. The conversation soon turned again, this time towards the couple's honeymoon plans. Marcus raised his glass of scotch. "You'd better make it an extra long trip. If my baby sister is anything like the firecracker she was back in her debutante days, you'll need a whole month just to recover, Monty!" A few halting chuckles rippled around the table, but Charlotte felt her cheeks blaze crimson. She snuck a glance at Alexander, who simply smirked and tossed back the remainder of his scotch in one smooth gulp. By the time coffee and petits fours were served, a more lighthearted, convivial air had settled over the gathering. Perhaps it was the alcohol loosening tongues or maybe the collective realization that the union of these two families was, for better or worse, locked into place. Either way, the barbs and undercurrents of tension had subsided into comfortable bonhomie. Charlotte leaned into Alexander, resting her head on his shoulder. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his arm slipping around her waist. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you ancient folks," Patrick boomed out, "But I could go for hitting up one of the clubs in Meatpacking later tonight. Really kick this party into high gear!" Raucous laughter filled the room, even from the normally reserved Montgomery side of the table. As Patrick launched into a story about his latest nightlife exploits, complete with dramatic gestures and impersonations, the strain of the earlier prickliness melted away. In that moment, Charlotte allowed herself to bask in the warmth and levity surrounding her, pushing aside any nagging doubts about overbearing family pressures or societal expectations. She was engaged to the man she loved and soon, they would step out into the world to start their own chapter - writing their own story together. It had seemed like such a simple idea at the time - gather up her bridesmaids and mother to visit the city's premier bridal salons in search of the perfect wedding dress. A rite of passage for any bride-to-be. Charlotte should have known nothing involving her mother would ever truly be simple. The day started off promisingly enough. Charlotte's best friends from childhood - Sienna, Jade, and Bianca - waited outside her townhouse on the Upper East Side, eagerly chatting and sipping mimosas from crystalline flutes. Even her mother Lillian seemed in uncharacteristically high spirits, greeting the girls with air kisses and doting hugs. "Oh, this is just so thrilling!" Lillian trilled as their glossy black town car pulled up to the curb. "Every mother dreams of helping her daughter pick out her wedding dress." Charlotte looped her arm through her mother's, a warm glow of affection swelling in her chest. For all of Lillian's faults - her snobbery, her obsession with propriety and optics above all else - she did truly want this special moment together. Their first stop was the opulent Flagship Salon of Amsale, the designer beloved by Manhattan's elite brides for decades. Even Sienna, no stranger to high-end boutiques, openly gawked at the lavish marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and hand-carved mahogany shelves displaying rows of confectionary-like gowns. An impeccably dressed consultant in a sleek sheath dress greeted them with a polite smile. "Welcome to Amsale, I'm Vanessa. Who is our blushing bride today?" Before Charlotte could introduce herself, Lillian looped a proprietary arm around her daughter's slim waist. "That would be my Charlotte. We have a rather classic, timeless aesthetic in mind." Classic and timeless, of course, when it came to Lillian's vernacular, roughly translated to outdated and overpriced. But Charlotte tried to keep an open mind as Vanessa ushered them into a plush viewing room, the racks of gowns and a multi-paneled mirror awaiting them. Over the next thirty minutes, a dizzying parade of dresses came and went. Organically structured ball gowns with endless layers of Italian silk taffeta. Sleek column sheaths dripping with French lace and crystal beadwork. Rich, ivory gowns flaring into dramatic trumpet trains. "Elegant and refined, just as Mrs. Jones specified," Vanessa declared, scrutinizing Charlotte in each dress with a critical eye. Charlotte, however, couldn't shake the nagging sense that something was...off with each sample. While objectively beautiful, not a single gown spoke to her modern yet romantic sensibility. "I don't know," she hedged after Vanessa presented an embroidered mermaid gown complete with a cathedral-length veil. "They're lovely, but a bit...I'm not sure 'refined' is my vibe, exactly?" Lillian audibly sucked her teeth, instantly zeroing in on her daughter like a laser-guided missile. "Charlotte Elizabeth, may I remind you that you're not getting married in some...some barn in the countryside? You're a Jones, for heaven's sake. We have certain standards and a legacy to uphold." Heat crept up Charlotte's neck as she shot her mother an imploring look. "I understand that, but it's still my wedding dress - " "Mom has a point, Charli," Bianca piped up from the loveseat where she had been ensconced with Jade and Sienna, chardonnay glasses in hand. "Those sleek, minimalist dresses would look totally basic on you. We need to go full-tilt glamour for your big day!" "See? Even your friends agree," Lillian stated matter-of-factly, as if that settled the matter. "Now Vanessa, I do hope you have some gowns that are a bit more...classical?" With a tight nod, the consultant disappeared into the showroom once more. Shoulders slumped in dejection, Charlotte joined her bridesmaids. "This isn't going how I'd hoped," she murmured under her breath. "Give it a chance." Jade rubbed her arm soothingly. "Once you actually try on dresses, I'm sure you'll get that bridal feeling."