Love, Alice

by Barbara Davis

  Gemma lit up. “I just love this song. I haven’t heard it in years.”

  Kristopher folded his napkin and set it aside. “Perhaps you’d care to dance?”

  Gemma glanced toward the empty expanse of parquet with thinly veiled longing. “No one else is.”

  “Who better to break the ice than the guest of honor?”

  Before he could stand, Austin pushed to his feet. “I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Bloom. Mother?”

  Gemma gave her son a quizzical look but allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. There were murmurs of approval as they began to move to the music, a smattering of applause as Austin steered his mother through a slow and graceful spin.

  “Sorry,” Dovie said, eyes trained on the dance floor. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

  Kristopher nodded toward the floor. “Care to trip the light fantastic?”

  “The only tripping I’m likely to do is over my own feet. I’m afraid I’m a bit rusty.”

  “Darling, in that getup no one—and I mean no one—is going to be looking at your feet.” He stood then and held out a hand. “Shall we?”

  Dovie felt almost light-headed as she stepped onto the floor with Kristopher. She was starting to see why William had fallen for this man. He was gorgeous, charming, and had a wicked sense of humor. It was a heady combination.

  The song ended and another began, this one slower and more fluid. Kristopher held her close, perhaps a little closer than was necessary, their cheeks touching now and then, his hand pressed to the small of her back as he steered her across the floor. The man seriously deserved an Academy Award for this performance.

  “You’re amazing,” she told him as he spooled her out, then reeled her in, molding her tight to his body.

  “Your boyfriend isn’t the only one who took dance lessons,” he murmured against her ear.

  “He isn’t my boyfriend. Not even close.”

  “But you’d like him to be.”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Before she realized what he was up to, he had steered them through the smattering of couples until they were swaying beside Gemma and Austin. Gemma lit up when she saw them.

  Kristopher took his cue. “May I cut in?”

  For a moment, Dovie considered kicking him in the shin. She had seen enough old movies to know what was supposed to happen next. The customary thing, the polite thing, was to trade partners. She also knew Austin couldn’t always be counted on to do the customary thing. She held her breath, waiting. Finally, he held up his arms and Dovie stepped into them. They said nothing for a time, moving almost mechanically. They were both watching Kristopher and Gemma, who were murmuring and laughing like old friends.

  “Your mother looks beautiful,” Dovie said, hoping to ease the tension. “Last week, when I called, you said you were spoken for. I didn’t realize . . .”

  “That I was talking about my mother?”

  “Yes. It’s . . . nice.”

  “It’s her first public event since my father died. I didn’t want her sitting here on her own, smiling and faking her way through the evening.”

  “I’d say her smile looks pretty genuine at the moment.”

  “And why not, with Prince Charming on her arm? Where’d you find him anyway?”

  “We met through a mutual friend.”

  “So he said. He also said you have a lot in common. Frankly, I don’t see it.”

  Dovie tipped her head back, eyes wide. “Don’t you?”

  “No.”

  “You’d be surprised,” she said, laughing. She had begun to enjoy herself enormously. Or maybe it was the wine she’d had with dinner. And before dinner.

  Austin was still scowling across the dance floor. “He looks like a male escort with his hair slicked back like that. Kristopher Bloom. What the hell kind of name is that anyway?”

  “Dutch,” Dovie said pithily. “It’s spelled with a K.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “He happens to be a very nice guy.”

  “A very nice guy who’s currently making a move on my seventy-year-old mother.”

  Dovie laughed again, her head swimming a little as the orchestra struck up yet another song. “I promise, she’s quite safe.”

  “You’re that sure of him, are you?”

  “I am, as a matter of fact. He’s just being . . . Kristopher.”

  Austin sniffed as he eyed Kristopher again. “That’s what I’m worried about. Come on, let’s get some air.”

  “Are you sure you trust them alone, with just two hundred people to chaperone?”

  “Funny. Let’s go.”

  She was still grinning as she trailed Austin out onto the balcony. The night had grown chilly and she’d left her wrap at the table. She shivered as she looked up at the night sky, crystal clear and pocked with stars, the air washed clean after days of rain. The drone of happy guests filtered out onto the terrace, a low pleasant hum. Or maybe the hum was all in her head, the giddy by-product of success and champagne. Closing her eyes, she breathed deep, reveling in the music spilling through the open doors, sweet and oozy, like honey pulled through a straw.

  She was surprised when Austin took her hand, but even more surprised when he curled it against his chest and pulled her close, swaying to the music. She tipped her head back, trying to meet his eyes, shadowed now by the moonlight. “I thought we were done dancing.”

  “We weren’t.” He ran his fingers along the length of her spine, the touch surprisingly warm through her gown. “I just needed some air. I was feeling . . . confused.”

  “About what?”

  “About why I sat through dinner plotting ways to murder Kristopher with a K. It never occurred to me that you might show up with someone, and certainly not someone like him. I just assumed . . .”

  “That I’d be sitting at home, pining for you?”

  “It just surprised me, that’s all. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

  “I’m not. Kristopher and I are just friends.”

  “What kind of friends?”

  “The safe kind.”

  “He doesn’t look all that safe to me.”

  “Trust me when I tell you he’s as safe as it gets. Our mutual friend was William. The thing—the only thing—we have in common is William.”

  Austin’s jaw went slack. “You mean Kristopher with a K was—”

  “William’s lover, yes. And as strange as it seems, we’ve become friends.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned. I had no idea.”

  “So, is that what we’re doing out here? I showed up with a guy who threatened your masculinity, so you thought you’d better stake your claim?”

  Austin took an abrupt step back, chin jutting mutinously. “First, and let me make this perfectly clear, Mr. Wonderful does not threaten my masculinity. Second, I’ve never treated you like a conquest, or whatever you seem to think I’m up to. In fact, it was me who pulled away the other night, because I wanted to be up front with you. You might try remembering that the next time you decide to throw rocks at my head.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. Why did you bring me out here?”

  “Like I said, I needed some air. And I—”

  The sound of approaching footsteps made Dovie turn. It was Kristopher, his smile flashing in the thin moonlight. “I was wondering where you’d gotten to. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

  Dovie found Austin’s eyes in the darkness. “Is he?”

  “Not at all. We were just about to go in, as a matter of fact.” He reached for Kristopher’s shoulder, giving it a hearty slap. “She’s all yours, Bloom. I need to go round up my own date.”

  Dovie said nothing as she watched Austin go.


  “Sorry,” Kristopher said when he had disappeared. “I didn’t mean to break anything up. I just hadn’t seen you in a while and was afraid I was being a bad fake date.”

  “You didn’t break anything up, but you can drop the fake date thing. I outed you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he thought you were putting the moves on his mother.”

  “On Gemma?” He seemed to consider that a moment. “I could do a lot worse. She’s thoroughly charming, and still quite beautiful. And something tells me she could do with a bit of fun in her life. Maybe I’ll give up the gallery and become her pool boy.”

  “I don’t think they have a pool.”

  “Pity. Oh, I almost forgot, your boss was looking for you. Something about the crowd starting to thin.”

  Dovie glanced back at the doors. “Right. I better get back and make sure everyone’s leaving happy. He’ll string me up if I let Gemma slip out without saying good night.”

  Inside, the crowd was indeed thinning, shaking hands and kissing cheeks as they drifted toward the exits. She couldn’t say she was sorry to see the night finally drawing to a close. Her wine buzz was wearing off, taking the last of her enthusiasm with it. Wearing her best hostess smile, she began to circulate, thanking guests for coming, and for their very kind generosity. She meant it, too, and in the morning, when she could feel her feet again, she would bask in the glow of a successful event and what it meant for the museum going forward.

  “Dovie, honey, there you are.”

  Dovie turned to find Gemma standing behind her, clutching her wrap and purse. “Kristopher has offered to take me home, and assures me you won’t mind, but I want your blessing before I steal your date. We thought we’d stop somewhere for coffee, or maybe a drink downtown, so we can talk a little business. He’s been thinking about opening another gallery here in Charleston, and I’d love to help grease the local wheels for him. Austin said he doesn’t mind dropping you home.”

  Behind Gemma, Austin stood stonily, his face unreadable. Kristopher, on the other hand, looked rather pleased with himself, knowing full well there was no way for her to wiggle out of this without looking rude. She shot him a look, though he pretended not to notice. Instead, he nodded almost imperceptibly in Austin’s direction, the corners of his mouth turned up in smirk that clearly said, You’re welcome.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Austin watched his mother slip out the door with Bloom at her side. He loved her to death, but there were times when she was about as subtle as a jackhammer. For whatever reason, she had set her sights on Dovie Larkin—a subject he’d be broaching first thing in the morning. He didn’t need saving. And sure as hell not by someone who was still navigating her own disasters.

  He watched as she stood chatting with her boss and his wife, charming, radiant, and completely unaware of how lovely she was. After a few moments she turned, running her eyes over the guests still milling about. He lifted a hand, feeling an absurd pang of pleasure when she spotted him and began to move in his direction.

  “I’m sorry about this, really. Why don’t I just call a cab? It’s late, and I’m sure you want to get home.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re right on my way.”

  In the parking lot, Austin opened the passenger door, then went around to slide behind the wheel. “Are you tired?” he asked as the BMW purred to life.

  “A little. There’s always a kind of letdown after an event. Even when it’s gone well. Why?”

  Austin hesitated, wondering if it was wise to do this now—or at all, really. He had hoped the night would go differently, less . . . awkward. Then again, after the way things had gone on the balcony, maybe now was the perfect time for a peace offering. “I was wondering if you were up for a little ride. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

  “Now? I don’t know. It’s getting late. And I—”

  “It won’t take long, I promise. Then I’ll take you straight home.”

  It took less than twenty minutes to reach the Isle of Palms. Not nearly long enough to figure out how he was going to do this thing—or to explain why he even felt the need. It didn’t really matter. They had arrived.

  Dovie eyed the three-story beach house through the windshield. “Where are we?”

  “My place.”

  Before she could say anything he was out of the car, coming around to open her door. A parade of emotions clouded her expression as she looked up at him. “I thought you wanted to show me something.”

  “I do. And this is where it is.” He grimaced even as the words were leaving his mouth, like some slick first-date line. “It’s okay, really. I’m not being creepy.”

  She fixed him with a skeptical look but finally took the hand he offered, allowing him to help her out of the car and along the stone path that led to the back of the house. She dropped his hand when the path ran out, and stood staring out over the moon-bleached sand and an endless stretch of silver sea. “You wanted to show me the beach?”

  “No. I just like to come out here when the moon is full and everything looks like it does now. It’s like you and the marsh, I guess.” He paused, filling his lungs with chilly salt air. “I take a walk every night before I go to bed, so I can sleep. Most of the time.”

  “Most of the time?”

  He could feel her looking at him, but didn’t turn. “Sometimes your head goes places you don’t want it to go, and you just can’t shut it off.”

  “Do you want to walk? Now, I mean?”

  “No. You’ll ruin your dress. I just wanted a minute after all the noise, and all those people. Honestly, I don’t know how my mother did it all those years, smiling and being gracious at all those parties, when my father knew damn well she’d rather be anywhere else. But then, she’s always been a trouper.”

  “Well, I hope tonight was a little more enjoyable. The museum—” Dovie’s words fell away as a gust of wind blew up, catching one of the rhinestone clips that held the left side of her hair in place. She laughed, lurching slightly as she pushed the tumbling mess off her face. “I think it’s hopeless.”

  “Leave it,” Austin said, catching her around the waist to steady her. “Messy works for you.”

  Time seemed to stop as she looked up at him, as if even the sea had suddenly gone quiet. He stepped back abruptly, dropping his hands. He should never have touched her. He knew it the minute he felt the warmth of her. And he was still standing too close. Close enough to see the reflection of the moon in her eyes. She seemed an almost otherworldly thing standing there, her hair swirling around her face, her gown billowing in the moonlight—like a mermaid on dry land.

  No, he thought, taking another step back. He should never have touched her. Touching wasn’t what this was supposed to be about. “Let’s go in. You look cold.”

  He didn’t take her hand this time, just turned to make sure she was following as they climbed the deck stairs and opened the sliding glass doors.

  She lingered in the doorway, gazing out over the beach. “You must have some view in the morning.”

  “I have to say, it’s rather spectacular.” He tugged at the bow tie that had been strangling him all night, then frowned at the gesture, feeling like a lounge singer doing a set at the Copa. When the hell had he become so damn awkward? “Can I get you something to drink? A glass of wine, maybe?”

  “No, thanks. I think I’ve had enough wine for one night. For two nights, actually.”

  She was wandering now, eyeing the framed prints that lined the wall opposite the fireplace, hovering over the cluster of photos on the bookcase. “What’s this one?” she asked, zeroing in on a shot of him on a sailboat with a gaggle of skinny-legged boys.

  “It’s some of the kids from the Outlook Club. The one wearing the ball cap and the frown is Tyler. And that one in the back is me during my Clemson days, all suited up for the game.”

&nbs
p; Dovie picked up the photograph, tilting it toward the light for a better look. “Wow, you were pretty good-looking back in the day, even in that ugly orange jersey.”

  Austin snatched the picture away and returned it to the shelf. “I did not bring you here to insult me.”

  “Then why did you bring me here?”

  “Like I said, I wanted to show you something.” He smiled, suddenly feeling like the cat that swallowed the canary as he took her by the shoulders and turned her to face the fireplace. “I wanted to show you that.”

  She went still when she saw it, her mouth open as she took in the painting propped up on the mantel. There was a crease between her brows when she looked back at him. “I thought you didn’t like the marsh.”

  “I never said that. But I didn’t buy it for me. I bought it for you.”

  Her eyes rounded in surprise, confusion, or a mixture of both. “Why?”

  He shrugged, scraping a hand through his hair. How could he explain when he didn’t know himself? “As a thank-you, I guess. I don’t know. Does it matter?”

  “It matters to me.”

  “I saw the way you looked at it the day I came by your place. And then the way you talked about the marsh that night on the dock. I couldn’t not buy it. It’s called Low Tide.”

  “You know I can’t accept it, Austin.”

  “Because I make an ass of myself every time I get anywhere near you?”

  She smiled at that, but shook her head. “No. Because it’s too extravagant. I know how much it cost, remember?”

  “What it cost has nothing to do with it. It’s a gift—between friends.”

  “But we’re not, are we? Friends, I mean. We’re just two people who can’t seem to figure out what we want from each other.”

  “Friends is all I’m capable of right now, Dovie. Probably all I’ll ever be capable of. And a few months ago, I wouldn’t have cared. But I do now. From the moment I met you, you’ve been under my skin. You were so broken and fragile, but there’s this other side to you, the side where you keep all your strength. And you’re finally starting to find it. I’d ruin that.”