“What?!” Therese turned to look at her friend excitedly, fairly skipping along as the group walked quickly down the sidewalk, leaning forward slightly against the wind that gusted up the avenue.

Her heart was bursting with excitement. She wanted to whoop it up, but having David there, in his natty pinstripe suit, so clearly Establishment New York, unmistakably well-born, well-connected, and … well-everything, made her keep her celebratory instinct in check.  If only to not embarrass Pernille.

“Yes! We want you!  David’s mother and my own mom are being picky with everything else, and I guess we’re willing to compromise on a few things, but for the pictures, we do want to have someone with your modern style to photograph this special day for us.  Not one of those traditional, stodgy crew that tends to take these stilted wedding pictures.”

Therese was almost taking leaps through the air as she bounced down the street. “I am just so excited to do this, Pernille!  Of course!  I will do it!”

“Easy, Therese,” David called out with a chuckle and looked across and over Pernille’s head at the smooth dark hair bopping next to his wife-to-be.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Therese answered, still trying to control the whoop! from bursting out.

Pernille and David’s wedding was being talked-about more and more. She’d even overheard Carol’s friends talk about it during a dinner party they’d hosted in Carol’s flat a couple of weeks ago.  “I would give my right arm to be at that wedding!” one had said.  Therese and Carol exchanged a quick glance.  Neither one chose to bring up the fact that the bride was a friend of Therese.

As the party wore on, Therese overheard someone else remark that connections made during a social event like that would be priceless for anyone hoping to break into that sort of circle. “You know Carol, people like Eleanor from McMillen, for example, are going to be at that wedding.  And if you could make that sort of connection … well, you’re made!  Nothing can top a credential like that in the furniture world.”

Later, as she watched Carol smooth some face cream on, fascinated, as always, by her lover’s movements, Therese asked, “What’s McMillen?”

“The most prestigious decorating firm in the country, dearest. Firms like that are difficult to make a sale to, because so many furniture shops like ours are competing to sell to them.”