“Nice to meet you, Elliot. You two met here at the diner?”
“We did,” Elliot said and smiled at Kara. “At first I thought she hated me, but then she started smiling at my jokes.”
“Because they’re horrible,” Kara said, but she was grinning. “I smiled at how bad they were.”
“They are pretty bad,” he said. Hope watched as the two of them exchanged a look, one of those “you’re amazing” exchanges. It was sweet, if not utterly unexpected. “Hey,” Elliot said. “Maybe we can all grab dinner sometime. I’d love to get to know Kara’s family more.”
“That sounds like fun,” Hope said.
He nodded and glanced between them. “Well, I’ll let you two talk.”
Once Elliot was out of earshot, Kara turned back to Hope nervously. “Well?”
“He seems really nice, Kar.”
Kara seemed to make a decision. She leaned in nervously, her fingers gripping the outside of the table. “I really like him. As a person, I mean. He’s decent, and kind, and he tries to be funny, which is cute in this whole other way. When we’re not together, I think about him a lot. Have you ever felt that way about someone?”
Hope smiled at the all-too-familiar description as of late. “Yeah, I have.”
“It’s kind of crazy to think about, but this feeling I have, it’s like I don’t ever want to be without it.”
“And Elliot feels the same way?”
Kara sat back against the booth. “I think so. But it’s like I’m afraid to get my hopes up. Good things don’t happen to me. They just don’t.”
The sentiment was heartbreaking, because Kara did deserve a guy like Elliot and more. “Don’t you dare sell yourself short. You deserve to be happy.”
“Yeah, well, not if Dominic has anything to say about it.”
“Does Elliot know?”
Kara nodded and gestured to her face. “It’s not like I could hide it for long. He was outraged and scared, but he doesn’t know anything about this life, Hope. He came to New York from Iowa to be an actor. Iowa.”
Hope took a deep breath. “We’re gonna figure it out.”
“I know.” She offered Hope a weak smile and it tore at her.
In an attempt to lighten the mood, she sat a little taller. “Now what does someone’s favorite sister have to do to get a cup of coffee around here? And maybe a short stack?”
Kara laughed. “Now that I can help you with. Coming right up.”
*
Mallory studied the sky from the window of her apartment the next evening. The normally swirling pinks and oranges of dusk had been replaced today with an angry grouping of charcoal clouds that seemed to signal a brewing storm. The beeping scroll on the bottom of her TV seemed to agree.
She checked her watch and hoped they made it to the anniversary party before the rain hit, but Mother Nature was one person she seemed to have very little influence over. Her late-afternoon appointment had canceled, which had afforded her the opportunity to come home and change from her business suit into a red cocktail dress. Was it possible she’d been told on a handful of occasions that she looked killer in the dress? Sure. Was it also within the realm of possibility that she’d selected it with the full understanding that Hope was her date? Most definitely.
Mallory surveyed herself in the mirror as nerves she found ridiculous fluttered in her stomach. Subtle red lipstick, her hair swept back on one side, and diamond teardrop earrings helped complete her look. She’d located the remote and silenced the news reporter advising residents to stay in if at all possible when the door to the loft buzzed. She located her clutch on the counter and slid the door open, only to halt everything right then and there, because dear Lord in heaven.
Standing there in silver heels and a black cocktail dress that fell across one shoulder was Hope. She had her hair fastened into a knot at the nape of her neck, with a free strand falling in an elegant tendril across her forehead. Mallory knew she should say something, utter some sort of customary greeting, but she found herself thrown in a manner she wasn’t prepared for. She’d never thought of Hope as someone who’d own a dress. She had a definite softness to her, but Mallory had always noticed the edge most. Apparently, there was still a lot about this woman she did not know.
Mallory shook her head. “You look…”
“Is it all right?” Hope asked, her eyes wide as she glanced down at her dress. “I wasn’t sure exactly. You said it was a fancy party, so I did my best.”
“No. It’s better than all right.” But Mallory was only halfway engaged in reassuring Hope, because the other half of her was still reacting in delicious ways to the image in front of her. She’d been physically attracted to Hope from the beginning. She was capable of admitting that, but the reaction her body was having now had her questioning whether they should just forget this party altogether and step back into her apartment.
“Oh,” Hope said and smiled. “Thank you. You look great too.” The words didn’t give much away, and she might have thought Hope was unmoved at the sight of her, except for the fact that her gaze seemed noticeably drawn to the slight glimpse of cleavage the red dress offered. Yep, jackpot. Maybe this dating thing wasn’t so daunting after all.
“Shall we?”
“After you,” Hope said.
They were lucky enough to find a cab quickly in the midst of rush hour, a shocking feat, but Sly, Mallory’s doorman, was the best ever. Their ride to the Upper West Side, however, was met with raindrops on the cab’s windshield.
“Should you give me the rundown on who we might encounter tonight?” Hope asked, and traced a delicate pattern across the top of Mallory’s hand. Mallory stared at the contact and took in the diabolical things it was doing to her body.
“Not if you keep that up, as I won’t be able to concentrate on much else.” Hope met her gaze with a smug grin. They were going to flirt their way through this night, it seemed.
“Sorry,” she said, still enjoying herself. “Go on.”
“My parents will be there, of course. Robert and Marjorie Spencer.”
Hope nodded. “Robert and Marjorie of the Upper West Side Spencers. Got it.”
Mallory smiled at the categorization. “That would be them, kind but pretentious people. They mean well. My mother’s a meddler. My father’s a workaholic. I take after him.”
“What do they do?”
“Both attorneys,” Mallory said. “Though my mom doesn’t work. Just wanted the prestigious degree, I guess. She does donate her services to various charities when they need paperwork drawn up or legal guidance.”
“Wow. They’ve done well for themselves.”
“They have. The money, however, is family money. It’s always been there, though we were never encouraged to rely on it. Achievement was everything and we were pushed hard.”
“Wow. They must be so proud of you then. You’ve accomplished a lot.”
Mallory tilted her head back and forth. “More so now. But in the beginning, when I told them I wanted to buck the corporate path and start my own business, they were furious, as small-business owner was probably less impressive to report to their friends. Just gave me something to prove.”
“I see. It lit a fire.”
“It did, and it hasn’t gone out since.”
Hope took this in, her expression unreadable. “Who else will we encounter?”
“My siblings. All but my little sister Ellen, who’s in college in London. The golden child. But my three brothers will be there, talking about the market and their latest tee time. Kind of obnoxious, I’m warning you now. My sister Chelsea, however, is driving in from Vermont with her family. She’s good people.”
But they were out of time for further explanation as the cab pulled alongside her parents’ building nestled just on the corner of Ninety-seventh Street, right up against the park. With views alone worth several million, it was a property that had been in her family for generations.
“Okay, now I’m nervous,” Hope said
, staring up at the structure.
“You’re here for me. Focus on that.”
Hope passed her a look that said not a problem and they journeyed upstairs. The elevator opened to the foyer of her parents’ home, and an attendant met them instantly to secure Mallory’s coat.
“Ms. Spencer,” he said.
“Hi, Henry,” she said, smiling. Henry had been a part of her growing-up years and was responsible for teaching her chess at a young age. She considered him family.
The luxurious living room bustled with guests, the hum of chatter drifted casually through the space along with waiters carrying trays of canapés, crostini, and jumbo shrimp.
“Whoa. Lot of people here,” Hope said quietly.
“Well, we are about half an hour late.”
“Thirty-five minutes to be precise,” her mother said, appearing just behind them.
“Happy anniversary, Mom!” Mallory said and kissed her mother on both cheeks.
“This is a pretty dress,” her mother remarked. “I’ve always loved you in red.”
“Thank you,” Mallory said.
“Is it designer?”
“Possibly. Let me introduce you to Hope Sanders.”
Her mother’s eyes brightened and she turned energetically to Hope. “Why, hello!” She moved in for the requisite double-kiss, and Mallory watched as Hope maneuvered what was probably an unexpected greeting. The double-kiss was a signature with this group. “Are you two…?” Her mother’s gaze alternated between Mallory and Hope.
“Here to celebrate your anniversary? Why, yes, we are!” Mallory said with gusto.
Hope laughed and her mother pouted. “Mallory never brings us dates. Never.”
That’s because I rarely go on them, Mallory thought. But times might be changing.
“There’s my tiny girl,” her father said and pulled Mallory into a warm hug that came with the recognizable scent of peppermint and aftershave.
“Hi, Daddy. Happy anniversary!”
“Thank you. And who is this?” he asked, studying Hope expectantly.
“This is Hope. I brought her to help me deal with all of you.” At Hope’s caught-in-headlights expression, Mallory squeezed her wrist. “Kidding. But only a little.”
“Welcome to our home,” her father said to Hope, kissing her on either cheek before moving past them to work the room.
Mallory shook her head subtly as she watched him. On first glance, one would think he was a politician, the way he handled people. She found herself often taking notes. Robert Spencer was well known in the city for being charismatic, good-looking, and smart, and if she generated half the respect he did, her career would be something to be proud of.
“Your parents are nice,” Hope whispered in her ear, once her mother rejoined the party.
“They are. But you haven’t met my brothers yet. I apologize profusely in advance.” They stepped down from the entryway into the living room, and Mallory snagged them two glasses of champagne from a passing tray. She gestured to their surroundings. “Welcome to my youth.”
Hope looked around, honestly astonished at what she saw. This place was opulent in a way she hadn’t been prepared for. High ceilings, marble flooring, accessorized with what had to be antique furniture. “Are those actual marble columns?” she asked, pointing to the two round pillars on either side of the room.
“In fact, they are.”
Hope tried to imagine what it must have been like to grow up in a place like this and honestly had no clue how to even begin that fantasy. “And you grew up here? As a child?”
Mallory sipped her champagne, watching Hope in amusement. “I did. I know how odd that must seem. This place looks more like a train station than a New York City apartment. I get it.”
“It’s not odd. It’s you. I’m just trying to picture it. Where did you play?” she asked, remembering the forts she and Kara had constructed in their matchbox of a bedroom, or the basketball games in the streets she often watched until she was big enough to join in. But living in the city, in an apartment where half the place was breakable, didn’t exactly lend itself to that kind of free play.
“At the park occasionally. I also had a lot of lessons. Art, language, flute, so not a ton of downtime.”
Hope held up a hand. “Hold the phone. You play the flute?”
“I used to play the flute. Hello, Mrs. Masters,” Mallory said to an older woman passing their way. “But it’s a thing of the past.”
“I’ll need to hear a flute recital after this.”
Mallory shook her head, but the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “No. Not going to happen.”
“Can you play ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’?”
“We’re not having this conversation,” Mallory said, folding her arms.
“I’d like to request that one and possibly ‘She’ll Be Coming ’Round the Mountain.’ I’ll sing along. It’ll be magic.”
“You’re trouble.”
Hope raised a shoulder. “True. But I get the feeling you like trouble.”
“A recent occurrence apparently,” Mallory said in wide-eyed mystification. “Do you play anything?”
“I’m working on the strings of your heart,” she said dramatically.
Mallory covered her mouth. “That was possibly the worst come-on line in history.”
“Oh, I’ve got worse.”
“Please tell me that’s true.”
Hope gestured with her champagne glass to an older gentleman approaching an even older woman. “See that guy? He’s now saying to her, ‘are those your eyes or did diamonds just fall from the sky?’”
“That’s horrible. Truly bad.”
“But now she’s going home with him,” Hope explained. “It’s gonna be a hot night.”
Mallory covered her mouth to stifle the laughter. “We’re going to hell.”
“No, we’re not. But Mrs. Diamonds-For-Eyes over there is about to take a trip to heaven.” This pulled even more laughter as it turned out that stuffy parties actually had the potential to be a lot of fun.
“What’s this about heaven?” Hope turned as a slightly taller, slightly older version of Mallory approached.
“Chels!” Mallory said, pulling the other woman into a tight hug.
“Mallory Spencer in red. I love it,” the woman said.
Mallory scanned the room. “Where are my nieces and nephews?”
“Upstairs with a movie. I’m no fool. You can catch up with them this weekend. In the meantime, introduce me to your friend,” she said and turned expectantly to Hope.
“Hope, meet my sister, Chelsea. She picked out all of my clothes until I was eight.”
“When she refused to let anyone tell her what to do any longer.”
“Chelsea, meet Hope.”
“A pleasure,” Chelsea said, extending her hand. But her gaze lingered on Hope, as she seemed to try to make up her mind about something. “Did you two meet through friends?”
“Not entirely,” Hope said, glancing at Mallory.
“Business then,” Chelsea stated matter-of-factly.
Hope shook her head apologetically, and Mallory held up one finger. “Hope owns an establishment I’m rather fond of. I’m a patron of hers.”
“And what establishment is that?” Mallory’s mother said, rejoining the group. She turned to Chelsea in appreciation. “You’re getting more out of them than I did.”
Hope opened her mouth to answer, but Mallory beat her there. “Hope owns one of the hottest craft-cocktail bistros in New York.”
A craft-cocktail bistro sounded awesome. She should use that. “Mallory is being nice,” she said, leaning in. “I hope that description matches one day, but for now, the bar’s doing okay.”
Mallory’s mother smiled widely. “Another entrepreneur, like Mallory. Where did you go to school?”
“Oh,” Hope said. “I didn’t. I guess you could say I’m self-taught.”
The smile on the mother’s face didn’t budge. Hope got
it. Lack of schooling wasn’t exactly a badge of honor for an accomplished family like this, but she was proud of what she’d managed on her own and wasn’t planning to apologize. To anyone. She was doing okay.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Chelsea said, a bit too emphatically. “School is not the route for everyone. That’s for sure.”
“Where did you go?” Hope asked Chelsea.
“Yale.”
She nodded. “Impressive.”
“Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should check on my children and see which one is tied up. It varies. Mother, I think Mrs. Barksdale’s attempting to flag you down. Don’t you dare agree to anything for that charity of hers. You have no time as it is.”
Mallory’s mother raised her eyebrows and regarded them. “My eldest daughter can be bossy. Enjoy yourselves, girls. Have some shrimp.”
“Let’s do brunch this week,” Chelsea said to Mallory, and then they were gone. If the exchange had unnerved Mallory, she sure didn’t show it. Cool as a cucumber over there.
“Thirty more minutes and we can sneak out,” Mallory said apologetically to Hope.
“We don’t have to do that. We can stay as long as you’d like.”
“What if I want us to sneak out?” And that’s when Hope understood that Mallory had other plans for them, and that meant thirty minutes couldn’t come fast enough.
“Other plans work for me too,” she said, quietly.
The sound of a spoon against a glass rang out across the room. “If I could be so bold as to have everyone’s attention,” Mallory’s father said from the top of the entryway steps. The room fell silent and all eyes turned to Mr. Spencer. “You’re here tonight for one very special reason, and that is to help me celebrate thirty-seven wonderful years with my wife, Marjorie. Thirty-eight years ago, I got down on my knee and asked the love of my life to be my bride. She made me the happiest man alive and said yes. Six children later, and I have never been more in love with you, my dear. I’m still the happiest man alive.” He raised his glass and the rest of the party followed suit. “You’re the reason for my smile tonight. Happy anniversary. To many more, my love.”
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