by Lynn LaFleur
Abby eliminated the two white dresses as soon as she saw them. One was a bridal gown, the other perfect for an afternoon barbecue.
Of the three in red, Mrs. Claus would have loved the first. All it needed was a white fur collar and cuffs.
The second would do but needed a fresh lining and the hem raised.
The third fit like it had been designed for Abby. A Fendi in tomato red silk, an asymmetric off-the-shoulder design.
“This is lovely,” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe someone didn’t snatch it up before today.”
Hayden’s manager had joined them. “It’s priced a bit higher than our customers usually want to pay. If you look closely at the seams, you’ll see it’s been altered too. Someone did an excellent job, but it’s no longer a true size. You’re quite lucky it fits you the way it does.”
Abby hadn’t seen the price tag. She took a deep breath and crossed her fingers. “How much?”
“The owner showed me a receipt for almost $1,900.00.”
Abby smile faded. She’d taken time off without pay and had refused to accept any money from Rose.
“It’s a consignment item,” the manager said. “She won’t release it for under $800.00.”
Abby turned in the three-way mirror. Nothing she’d ever owned would compare to the dress Madame designed for her, but this one came in a close second. She almost heard the plastic melting in her wallet.
“Would the owner consider renting the dress for the evening?” Judy asked.
Immediately, the manager shook her head.
“Then think about this.” Judy had been standing outside the dressing room. Now she nudged her daughter and Hayden aside and took her place beside Abby, facing the manager. “I’d bet the gal who owns this dress is attending the gala tonight.”
“I’m sure of it.”
“I’ll also bet she wore this dress to last year’s event and doesn’t want to be seen wearing it again.”
The manager stood with her hands on her hips but nodded. “You’re probably right.”
“That makes the design at least a year old. If she holds out for a higher price, by the time it sells, two years old.”
Again the manager agreed.
Abby wasn’t sure where Judy headed but she liked the direction so far.
“You know us poor folk shop here for bargains. We’re not going to pay that kind of money for a dress that’s two years old no matter whose name is on it.”
Abby silently watched the negotiations. She held her hands behind her back, her fingers crossed.
Finally the manager countered, “Seven hundred but not a penny less.”
“Seven hundred and that includes the lacy stuff for underneath.”
“All of our intimate wear is new, not resale. Seven-fifty.”
Seven hundred fifty dollars! After Abby paid her rent, she’d have nothing left to live on for the rest of the month. “Judy, I can’t afford…”
Judy stepped in front of her and pulled a credit card out of her pocket. Abby saw the name Love In Bloom pressed into the plastic. “Put it on this.”
The manager snatched the card out of Judy’s hand, likely afraid she might try to bargain further. “I’ll see to her underthings and meet you at the register.”
“We can’t do this,” Abby cried once the manager was out of earshot.
“Do what?”
“Charge the dress to the shop. My aunt will be horrified.”
“Au contraire. Rose knows the price of doing business. You’re representing Love In Bloom this evening. Knowing Rose, she’ll laugh when she sees the bill and say, ‘Well done, Judy’.”
Hayden piled into Judy’s SUV with them while Ashley phoned another friend. When they arrived at Rose’s house, a skinny little teenager with purple and pink bangs, pasty white makeup and every hair on her head cut a different length, stood waiting at the curb.
Hayden and Ashley looked at Abby’s hair and grimaced. “Don’t worry, Abby, Chantel can work magic, even with hair like yours.”
Abby grimaced too, not only at the prospect of a half-starved Goth taking charge of her hair, but at all of Chantel’s body piercings.
“You’d better be right about that,” Judy joined in. “Or all three of you will be grounded for life.”
At a little after seven, Abby carefully descended the steps and floated into the living room. Chantel followed behind her.
Between them, they had worked miracles. Chantel possessed a gift for hair styling. Somehow she’d managed to harness the natural curl in Abby’s hair and use it to soften some of the fatigue a nice hot shower hadn’t been able to erase.
She’d helped Abby apply her makeup too, offering suggestions that even Madame’s minions hadn’t thought of.
The teenager approved of Abby wearing the earrings Brett had given her, but really wished Abby had a pair of nice lace-up combat boots to wear instead of the T-strap dancing slippers Brett had sent. Abby won that battle.
“Oh, Abby, you look soooo beautiful!” Ashley crooned.
“And soooo hot,” Hadley added.
Abby took Chantel’s hand. “You two were right. Chantel is a miracle worker.”
“I’ll say,” Judy agreed a little too enthusiastically. “I never thought you’d pull it together, even in a Fendi.”
“Thanks to you.” Abby hugged Judy. “And you and you and you.” She spread hugs all around. “Now where are Rose’s car keys. I’m late enough already.”
Judy shook her head. “No way we’re letting you out of this house alone. I want to make sure you don’t chicken out in the parking lot. Got your ticket?”
Abby fished it out of the beaded purse she’d carried to Whispers. “Lily’s ticket, right here.”
“Come on, gang, we can’t keep Cupid waiting.”
On the way over, Hayden, Ashley and Chantel huddled in the backseat chattering in code no adult would ever understand, except for the “ums” and “you knows”. With each mile closer, Abby’s anxiety grew. Judy glanced over at her and smiled.
“If we’d let you drive, you’d be turning back right about now, wouldn’t you?”
Abby nodded. Her stomach had bunched into knots and with each mile closer to the club, the knots tightened.
Judy reached over and squeezed her hand. “You look wonderful. Definitely not the lone sardine in a tin of caviar.”
That made Abby smile.
Looking serious now, Judy continued, “The Universe is handing you and Brett a gift, Abby. A once-in-a-lifetime gift.”
“I know. I hope it’s not too late.”
“The Universe doesn’t make mistakes, only the people who are unwilling to accept its gifts. Nothing about you says second chair, girlfriend. Grab what’s offered and hold onto it with both hands. You deserve it.”
Abby swallowed hard. She’d met Judy for the first time less than a week ago. In those few short days, she realized she wanted Judy as a friend for life. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I love you.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Showtime!” Judy slowed her SUV and brought it to a stop behind a white stretch limousine. Young men attired in white dress shirts and glittering red jackets scrambled to assist them.
Judy had driven halfway to the club when Abby realized she’d forgotten to buy a mask. Always the problem solver, Judy had snapped her fingers, said, “No big deal,” and whipped a U-turn. After backtracking a few miles, they pulled up to the curb in front of Love In Bloom. Judy ran inside and plucked an elegant red mask made of feathers, sequins and silk ribbon ties from the front window display. She was back behind the wheel before they’d lost more than a minute or two. Hadley and Chantel spent the rest of the trip bickering over how best to secure the mask without ruining Abby’s hair.
At the club, a handsome young valet opened Abby’s door and offered his hand. With his help, she slid gracefully out of the tall vehicle. “Thank you all again,” she called over her shoulder.
Hayden waved, Ashley gave her a thumbs-up,
Chantel two.
“Break a leg,” Judy added.
The mask helped bolster Abby’s courage. She hoped to hide behind it long enough to reach her table before she ran into Jordan again.
Abby walked quickly along the red carpet, up the three steps leading to the verandah, and stepped into the magical world Seaside Party Production had created. Not even the most senior club member would have recognized the lobby. With expert lighting design and draping, the production company had turned a formal, staid lobby into a starry night with a pathway through the heavens. Clouds of spun gold and angel’s hair swayed with the stars that lighted the way to a curved path made of gilded flagstones and led into the ballroom. The path was lined with flowering pink, white and red rose trees and white doves cooing inside their spacious gilded cages.
After taking the gilded path, partygoers entered the ballroom through a twenty-foot tall glittering heart and past another of Ronn and Judy’s floral masterpieces. Abby hadn’t seen anything as lavish since the classic musicals of the thirties.
“Welcome to Hearts Afire, Ms. Granger, we’ve been waiting for you.”
The woman’s voice startled Abby. She’d been so caught up in the decorative details, she hadn’t noticed the group ahead of her had been ushered inside.
How does she know my name?
“You are Lily Granger, aren’t you?”
Just for tonight. “Yes, I’m Lily Granger. Did I meet you earlier?”
The woman didn’t answer except to smile and nod to another attractive young man. “Will you show Ms. Granger to her table, please?”
“Right this way, ma’am.”
The celestial theme continued into the ballroom. The draping and soft lighting enhanced the fantasy. Tall candlesticks lighted the tables that were covered with either red or white linens, and matching chair covers with tie-back bows. A soft din of laughter and chatter floated on the air.
Abby didn’t see an empty seat until her escort stopped at table fifty-seven. He helped her with her chair and waited until she settled in.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Ms. Granger. Please enjoy yourself.”
Abby opened her napkin and glanced around at the local gentry, all beautifully attired in a fortune’s worth of designer gowns along with enough bling to light the room.
Most of the older men wore black tuxedos with red cummerbunds and bow ties. The younger men replaced the cummerbunds with more stylish red vests and straight ties.
A few of the women wore plain, glittered masks. Most sported ones even more ornate than Abby’s.
She remembered the floral staff had prepared sixty-five centerpieces for tables of eight, ten for smaller tables, and one for a table for two. The stage had not been placed by the time she and the Love In Bloom crew left for the day. None of the draping had been hung either. The ballroom looked so different now she had difficulty finding the small table over which she and Ronn had worked so hard to hang Cupid’s clouds. Two gilded chairs with red velvet padded seats sat side by side under the canopy of roses and stephanotis. Two crystal champagne flutes sparkled under the lights, alongside a four-branched candelabrum with twenty-four-inch white tapers. A panel of satin Austrian drapes served as the backdrop. How odd, Abby thought. With the dinner service only minutes away, no one sat at the table.
Seating for a small orchestra had been set up on the risers at the back of the stage. Abby saw their instruments in place, which meant they had likely taken a post-reception break.
On the stage proper, the crew had set up a podium with a tall bronze vase and four dozen long-stemmed roses in front of it and a small table beside it. Abby silently groaned. Tables like that usually held plaques to be awarded at some point in the evening, the dullest point.
Her tablemates introduced themselves and included her in the usual small talk. She smiled and participated until she saw Brett and Jordan walk onto the dance floor. They’d come from somewhere behind the back of the stage. Brett looked amazing in a white tux with a red vest and tie. On his lapel, he wore a single red rose. Jordan wore a full length raspberry red silk gown with a short train. The gown clung to her slender frame and emphasized her perfectly toned body. She wore a strand of pearls and a white rose pinned near her shoulder. They looked stunning together.
Brett walked a little behind her and guided her with a hand on her elbow. She gazed up at him and smiled, a smile Abby saw glowed from across the room—the smile of a lover.
Once again, unshed tears burned Abby’s throat and stung her eyes. Why had she come? Did she need to be hit over the head with a brick to understand that their night at Whispers had been Brett’s last fling before committing to his real soul mate? The new kid in town had been nothing more than a convenient sexual diversion.
Crestfallen, she slumped against the back of her chair. This evening could not end soon enough.
The wine stewards began moving through the room while members of the orchestra filed onto the stage. Once they’d taken their seats and readied their instruments, three screens descended slowly from the ceiling. Brett walked up on the stage and to the podium.
Abby was powerless to stop her heart from skipping. She’d seen him dressed in formalwear twice in two days. She’d also seen him naked, with her eyes, her hands and her mouth. Now she saw him on the three large screens and began taking in every facet of him, starting with his hair, so thick and wavy, the cut of his jaw, his perfect nose, and his full soft lips.
The camera didn’t do his blue eyes justice. She preferred to remember the way they’d shone each time he brought her to orgasm.
His shoulders, larger than most men’s, looked even bigger in a white jacket cut to emphasize his narrow waist. As much as it hurt to know she’d never be with him again, she wanted to savor each detail. On Monday, when she left Seaside for good, she’d take only memories with her.
“Good evening and welcome to Hearts Afire!” he began. “I’m Brett Kincade, and it is my pleasure tonight to serve as your KIMSOE…”
The buzz in the crowd quieted. Abby too wondered what a “kimsoe” was.
“In case you’re wondering, that’s our chairwoman’s acronym for Keep it moving, sonny, or else.”
That brought chuckles and a round of applause, especially from the men in the crowd.
Next, Brett introduced the hospital brass and asked them to remove their masks. Their smiling faces filled the three screens.
With that completed, Brett addressed the audience again. “This has always been one of my favorite rituals, where everyone removes his or her mask. Wine stewards, may I ask you to step back from your tables?” The wine servers quickly complied. “Cut the lights please.”
The room fell into total darkness. “Beginning with table three, please stand and remove your masks.” A spotlight broke through the darkness and shined on Jordan Ito, Lauren Kincade, a man who looked a year or two older than Lauren and had to be Brett Kincade, Sr. Next to them, the screen showed a woman about Brett’s age unmasking a little boy while what had to be her husband, unmasked their little girl—twins. Abby didn’t need Sherlock Holmes to tell her they were Brett’s sister Melanie and her family.
Hail, hail the gang’s all here. She tried to fight off the gloom of seeing Brett and his family, with Jordan right in the thick of it.
The spotlight moved quickly and so did the guests. Abby watched carefully as the light neared her table. At the last second, before the spot would have fallen on her and projected her image, she nudged her handbag. It fell to the floor. While her tablemates stood and removed their masks, she bent low, pretending to search for it.
The spotlight moved on. Abby exhaled the breath she’d been holding since he’d called the table before hers and removed her mask.
At the conclusion of the unmasking ritual, the spotlight dimmed and the house lights rose. Brett said, “Now enjoy your dinner, everyone. We’ll see you afterward.”
Abby looked around at the tables closest to her. With everyone unmasked she realized she knew no o
ne. What am I doing here?
“Excuse me, madam.” A waiter stood beside her, holding a dinner plate with a broiled lobster tail and a small filet. “Medium rare?”
“That’s fine,” she answered. It didn’t matter if they’d charred the steak to cinders. She had no appetite. Tonight even the fragrance of the béarnaise made her dizzy. She had to get out of there—now.
Stewards and servers hovered near their tables and clogged the aisles. She would have created more of a stir trying to get away at this time than if she stayed and waited until the dinner plates were cleared and dessert served. At that point, she knew Brett would return to the stage and begin the evening’s program. She quietly gathered her handbag, mask and program, ready to bolt at her first chance.
The lights rose at the same time Abby realized she had nowhere to go. She’d forgotten Judy had dropped her at the entrance and driven off before they’d made plans to pick her up. She hadn’t brought her cell phone because the beaded handbag she carried was too narrow to close around it. She’d have to find someone to lend her theirs or stay until the party ended and hope Judy showed up.
Fighting the panic of someone marooned, she looked around and saw the young man who’d seated her heading in her direction. Surely he had a cell or could direct her to one of the pay phones.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Granger,” he began before she had a chance to ask. “There’s been a horrible mistake. We seated you at the wrong table. Please, come with me now.”
She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary, I’m leaving as soon as I can find a phone.”
“No, please come with me. This was such a mistake.”
Abby didn’t want to stay but the worried look on his face tugged at her heart. She looked down at her handbag and then at him. “All right, lead the way.”
At first she guessed Jordan must have found an extra seat somewhere and assigned it to “Abby Horton”. Probably right outside the kitchen or the hallway leading to the restrooms. Until her escort walked her across the back of the ballroom and then headed toward the stage.