Mama Rose’s heart fell with the dismissal of her affection as she took the notepaper, glancing down at it only a second, it appeared to be a big list of some sort.
“This is the guest list, so far, for the wedding” Tiresa flicked an invisible piece of fluff off her perfectly manicured fingernail whilst she talked,” Mika’s parents have added their preferences and we have added ours we thought you might want to look over it for numbers and catering etc”
As Tiresa talked, Mama Rose took her in…from her shiny red stilettos, and strapless tube that hugged a size 8 figure that looked to be a tad on the short side for her towering 6″ height, to the deep rouge stain on her lips which incidentally matched her polished fingernails, the shimmer of pink blush that accentuated high elongated cheek bones, and long black eyelashes that framed her big round brown eyes, to the long silky brown hair falling gracefully down her back that was brought up artistically around her face into a fashionable pouf. She looked gorgeous, perfect even…well, thought Mama Rose If it wasn’t for the big eyeful of breasts that looked as if they would tumble out of that tube given half a chance.
“We are thinking along the lines of a big traditional dinner” Tiresa went on never once looking Mama Rose directly in the eye, preferring to look everywhere else, shifting uncomfortably from heel to heel as she stood, out of place, in the modestly quaint kitchen she had grown up in and once called home “We can self cater at the country club venue and Mika and I thought you and the aunts could just organise the menu and run it by us… we are trying to keep costs down after all…”
Yea so that you can splurge on that big honeymoon/shopping spree you have planned in Paris. Tiresa continued talking about wedding plans as Mama Rose’s lips curled slightly, into a rueful smile as her thoughts took the same road they often traveled.
If only her darling, namesake, Rosalie, were still here. How different life would have been for those two. Instead they were left with one sister so hard, and unforgiving, a bitter shadow of the former vibrant self she had left behind and the other sister so self absorbed, image focused, and negligent she didn’t care who she hurt along the way to the next Gucci bag or Jimmy Choo Pumps.
At the ages of 8 & 10 they had been ‘soul sisters’ never spending a moment away from each other. They played hard, fought even harder, but were the first to come to each others defense if the need arose. They were young, vibrant, loyal, and content. The result of a strong happy family situation. For awhile there in their early 20’s that sisterly bond had seemed to be restored but years of being apart had made that bond fragile and it disintegrated at the first sign of trouble.