Good Man, Dalton

by Karen McQuestion

  “Is your name even Dalton Bradshaw?”

  “Not Bradshaw, but I promise you that Dalton is my first name. Is, has been, and always will be.” He hoped that would be good enough for her.

  As they heard Cece coming down the stairs, Greta quickly said, “Whoever you are, you better not mess with my cousin. If I find out you’re secretly filming her or selling information to the media, you will live to regret it.”

  Bunny threats. So adorable. “Understood.”

  “Greta?” Cece called out. They stepped around the pillar to see her descending the staircase with the grace of royalty. All she needed was a crown and a velvet cape, and anyone would kneel before her.

  “I’m right here,” Greta said. “I was just threatening Dalton and telling him he’d better behave tonight.”

  “Behave?” Cece said. “Well, I certainly hope he doesn’t behave. That would be no fun at all.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Greta reflected on what she’d just learned, which wasn’t much. He’d said his first name was Dalton, but now the plot thickened. She couldn’t think of one good reason why he would be temporarily homeless and give them a phony last name.

  Was she supposed to just trust that he was a good guy? Isn’t that what all bad guys said? Trust me. I promise. Believe me. Words guys used to lure girls in and win them over. Maybe he thought that because she was from Wisconsin, she was from farm country and could easily be duped. Funny that Cece, the one from Manhattan, was so trusting while she was cautious. But then again, Cece had always been surrounded by people who took care of these kinds of things, so she didn’t have much experience dealing with lowlifes and con artists. Greta didn’t, either, but she’d seen every single episode of Law & Order SVU. She knew plenty.

  When Cece came down the stairs, she looked so beautiful, she took Greta’s breath away. When Cece had pulled her over to the full-length mirror earlier, she’d said they looked like twins, but that wasn’t entirely true. Anyone could see they were related, but Cece had the more refined features. Another difference? Cece moved with grace and certainty while Greta always felt like she wasn’t quite sure of herself. At times, her elbows seemed to operate on their own. Talk about awkward. She didn’t contradict Cece’s view of them together. If Cece wanted to pull Greta onto her carousel, she was happy to be along for the ride. Cece’s world was one of beauty and privilege. Greta was lucky to be able to stand in her shadow.

  While they waited for Michael, Cece flirted shamelessly with Dalton, telling him he looked extremely hot in a tux and goading her into agreeing. “Greta, doesn’t Dalton look handsome in his tux?”

  “I might think so, except it’s not technically his tux,” she said.

  In response, Dalton mimed a dagger to the heart, while Cece gave him a playful slap on the arm. “Just ignore Greta. She’s having some fun with you.”

  Cece rested her hand on her shoulder and said that from now on, she was doing things her way. “I’m tired of playing by the rules,” she said. “Tonight I say we all live large and do whatever we want.”

  “Works for me,” Dalton said.

  Brenna and Nanny came out of the kitchen to say goodbye, and a few minutes later, the pocket in Cece’s evening gown pinged. Pulling her phone out, she read the text and said, “It’s Michael. The car is out front.”

  Brenna tugged on Greta’s dress and pulled her down to her height. “Don’t forget,” she whispered into her ear.

  “I won’t.”

  Nanny gave Cece a hug. “Have fun at the ball. Be good.”

  Cece laughed. “No promises!” She looked even happier than in the perfume commercial, when she’d been frolicking in a fountain somewhere in Europe. Tonight, she was jubilant.

  She slipped her hand over Dalton’s arm, and together they looked like a couple heading out to the Academy Awards. Greta did think he looked exceptionally handsome in that tux, not that she wanted to give him the satisfaction of hearing her say it.

  As they headed to the elevator, Greta walked behind them, Cinderella’s somewhat pretty but gawky cousin who was visiting from the Midwest and had to be invited along out of sheer politeness. Not that she was complaining.

  She was just glad to be included.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  When the trio left the apartment building, a few tourists recognized Cece and came up to say hello. It was nowhere near the throng Dalton had seen the other day, just half a dozen people who happened to be walking by at the time. Cece beamed when they asked for photos and posed for all of them, giving one little girl a hug and high-fiving a bike delivery guy who’d paused from his route, leaning his bike against a sign post upon spotting her. Greta stood silently nearby, while inside the car, Michael waited behind the wheel. When Dalton noticed Greta’s distraught expression, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

  She said, “Oh, man, Dalton, I completely messed up. I forgot to call the security detail this morning and set up the schedule for them to accompany us. It was in the packet Katrina gave me, marked very important. She highlighted it, even. Cece’s not supposed to go anywhere without security.”

  He knew the sound of guilt when he heard it. He’d felt it himself, every time he’d let his father down. Greta thought she’d screwed up big-time. Poor girl. He hated that she was beating herself up over this. “So who says Cece’s not supposed to go anywhere without security?”

  “Katrina and Vance. It was in the packet. They were very adamant about her safety protocols.”

  “And where are Katrina and Vance now?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, shrugging. “They took off and left me in charge. Even Cece didn’t know they were leaving until after they were gone.”

  “Then I say, screw ’em and their instructions. If it was so important, they shouldn’t have left. They should be here taking care of things. It was unfair of them to dump it on you and expect you to cover their duties.”

  “Well, I said I would . . . ”

  “I’m sure you did, but it sounds like coordinating all of this is a massive job, probably too much for one person, much less someone who’s new to it. Besides, look at Cece. Does she seem upset that her Secret Service hasn’t shown up?”

  Cece was happily showing a woman how the skirt of her dress moved when she swayed. Greta smiled. Shy, uncertain, but a real genuine smile of relief. “I guess it will be okay for one night,” she said.

  “I’ll help you keep her safe.”

  Greta looked relieved. “Thank you.”

  Michael tapped on the horn, then opened the window and said, “Sorry,” as if he’d hit it by accident. Dalton opened the car door, and Cece reluctantly left her fans and slid inside. He gestured for Greta to go next and then got in after them.

  It struck Dalton as odd that Michael was attending the event and driving as well, but when he asked him about it, the guy only grunted and said, “I’m the driver.” What could Dalton say to that? Michael had phrased it as if there were no other options, as if New York was devoid of people who were capable of driving that limo.

  When they arrived at the venue, a crowd had formed on either side of the velvet ropes. In between, a red carpet ran from the curb up some steps and into the building. The event had its own security team on-site, men who opened the car doors as guests arrived and kept the peasants from breaching the perimeter. “See,” Dalton said to Greta, “you didn’t need your guys, after all.”

  As Cece exited, the crowd called out in excitement. “Cece Vanderhaven!”

  “Cece, over here!”

  Cece stepped aside so that Greta and Dalton could join her on the sidewalk, then went over to the rope to talk to her fans.

  “Gorgeous dress, Cece. Who’s the designer?”

  Upon hearing the question, she posed, one hand on her hip. “I designed this myself,” she said and began describing the fabric and other details about the styling and construction. “It was created using synthetic feathers that are as soft as goose down. It creates movement.”
One woman reached over the rope to touch the skirt, then nodded approvingly to her friend. “My favorite feature?” Cece tucked her hands into her pockets. “Built-in pockets, so there’s no need to bring a handbag to an elegant event.”

  The crowd chimed in.

  “What a great idea!”

  “Why don’t all dresses come like that?”

  “Beautiful and practical.”

  Cece gestured to her cousin. “Greta, come over here.” When Greta complied, Cece slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “This is my cousin Greta. Isn’t she beautiful?”

  The crowd agreed. One woman said, “You look like sisters!”

  Greta blushed and looked around, as if unsure what the correct response should be. A woman reached out to touch her dress, and Greta flinched for only for a second, then stood stock-still, as if determined to endure the attention. As much as Cece was in her glory interacting with crowds of adoring fans, her cousin wasn’t loving it. Dalton picked up on her discomfort and provided her with an exit strategy, stepping forward and touching each of them lightly on the back. “Ladies? I believe they’re waiting for us inside.”

  Greta turned and gave Dalton a relieved smile. “Of course.” She nudged Cece. “We need to go to the ball.”

  Not wanting to leave either of them out, Dalton crooked both arms and wound up with a beautiful woman on either side of him. A pretty good place to be. Michael had driven off after letting them out. At the time, Dalton had wondered if they’d ever see him again, but now he realized it didn’t matter. Regardless, the three of them would be fine.

  “Cece?” A yell came out from the crowd, accompanied by the flash of a camera. “Who’s your date?”

  She stopped to answer. “This is my new friend, Dalton. Isn’t he handsome?”

  “Cece! Cece! Look over here!”

  Cece spoke to Greta and Dalton. “Let’s turn right before the door and give them a good picture.” They went about five feet before she had them pivot to face the crowd. Cece’s smile stretched wide, and even Greta started to relax a little, knowing they’d soon be inside.

  “Gorgeous, Cece! This way!”

  “Love you, Cece!”

  One man’s voice rose over the crowd. “Cece, what about the reports that Vance and Katrina got married in Vegas? Reportedly, Katrina is pregnant. Did you know?”

  Katrina and Vance got married? Dalton tried to remember what he’d heard about Cece’s former sidekicks. Wasn’t Vance supposedly her gay boyfriend? Greta had just said they’d taken off on short notice, which really didn’t tell him much. If any of this was news to Cece, she didn’t show it. “Of course I knew,” she said. “I adore both of them and wish them every happiness.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Greta had never seen so many stunning women in one place before. With their perfect hair, fabulous gowns, sparkling jewelry, and flawless faces, all of them looked like they were supermodels ready to walk down a runway. And Cece was the most gorgeous of them all. Greta wasn’t sure if it was the dress or her newfound freedom, but her cousin positively glowed.

  Greta, on the other hand, felt as if she stood out, as if everyone there could see that a plain girl had somehow wandered in among the beauties. She was only dispelled of this notion when she went to visit the ladies’ room and a man at the bar caught her eye and said, “Hello, lovely.” She’d glanced around to see if he could be speaking to someone else, but there was no mistake. He meant it for her. A little creepy, but still it was a compliment. She found it oddly unsettling being put in the same class as all these strikingly attractive women, but it was also somewhat thrilling. As new experiences went, it was one of the better ones. She could definitely get used to it.

  The evening started off with drinks in a large hall flanked by two bars. Servers came around with trays of champagne, and the bars kept busy mixing cocktails and pouring wine. Waiters carried trays of appetizers on tiny skewers. None of the other women in the room opted for the food, but many of the forgotten men chowed down, taking multiples and balancing them on cocktail napkins. One side of the room was lined with small tables, bar height. After they found an empty table, each of them accepted a glass of champagne.

  An older woman, slightly plump with upswept hair and glittering drop earrings, sat at a grand piano in one corner, playing soft background music. Her fingers fluttered over the keys while she kept her head high and her posture perfect.

  “What’s the song she’s playing?” Greta nodded toward the piano.

  Dalton said, “I don’t know the specific song. I think it falls under easy listening.”

  “Cocktail party music,” Cece added. “It all sounds the same.”

  The other female guests mingled, throwing their arms around each other, giving air kisses, and admiring each other’s gowns and jewelry. From what Greta overheard, there were a lot of connections from summer camp, sororities, and mutual friends. Summer camp sounded like it was a big deal, much different from the time she spent a week as a Girl Scout at Camp Alice Chester, the highlight of which was making a dream catcher at the craft table. From what she could tell, their camp experiences lasted for weeks and took place in lavish rural retreats in other states. On visiting day, their parents brought wrapped gifts and gourmet treats. “Remember when your mother brought those trays of fresh sushi?” one woman said.

  So many of the young women talked about trips they’d recently taken, citing the names of places Greta wouldn’t be able to find on a globe for any amount of money. The act of introducing their dates to the other women seemed to be an afterthought.

  When she saw Michael enter the hall, Greta raised a hand to get his attention, and he strode straight to their table, tapping Cece on the shoulder. When she turned, he said, “I will be at the bar if you need anything.” She nodded in acknowledgment, and off he went.

  “He’s really supposed to be part of this, isn’t he?” Greta asked, watching as he deftly wove his way around clusters of chatting guests.

  Cece shrugged. “It’s fine. He didn’t choose to come here, so if he’d rather not join us, I understand.” She smiled. “Besides, I don’t need his bad mood tonight.”

  Leah Ann Miller, their hostess for the evening, had been making the rounds. When she got to their end of the ballroom, she shrieked at the sight of Cece and threw her arms around her. “Cece Vanderhaven!” she said. “I’m so happy you’re here.” Noticing Dalton, her eyes widened. “And who might you be? It’s hard to believe you could be a forgotten man.”

  “This is Dalton,” Cece said. “He only qualifies because when we met, he was homeless.”

  “My, my,” Leah Ann said, suddenly lapsing into a Southern accent. “That’s a hard one to believe. A man as good-looking as you without a home? You can leave your shoes under my bed anytime you want, Dalton.”

  Cece stepped between them, pulling Greta to her side. “This is my cousin Greta. She’s here for the summer.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Greta,” Leah Ann said, her eyes still on Dalton. Next to her, a man in a tweed jacket with dark-framed glasses fidgeted nervously. He was lanky with pale skin; a lock of hair fell over his forehead.

  “It’s nice to meet you too,” Greta said. “I don’t believe we’ve met your date.”

  “This is Roger,” she said dismissively. “My little sister’s tutor. My first choice for a forgotten man got sick, so Roger filled in at the last minute.”

  Cece extended her hand. “Lovely to meet you, Roger.”

  Roger twitched, startled, but recovered quickly, taking her hand with a smile, then leaning down and pressing his lips briefly to her fingers. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance,” he said, his eyes flicking up to meet hers.

  If Cece found this old-fashioned phrasing odd, she didn’t show it. “How charming,” she said, looking pleased. “Leah Ann, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve decided to steal Roger for the evening. My little party of three seems to be short a forgotten man.” It sounded like she wasn’t cou
nting on Michael coming back at all.

  Leah Ann let out an unattractive laugh. “You’re welcome to him.” She clapped a hand on Roger’s back. “I’m in so much demand this evening, he wouldn’t have seen much of me, anyway.”

  Roger looked pleased. “That’s so nice of you,” he told Cece.

  Leah Ann wasn’t done. “Speaking of coming up short, where are your partners in crime tonight? I haven’t seen you without Katrina and Vance in ages. Usually, they keep you in such close quarters, we barely get to speak.”

  “Katrina and Vance?” Cece waved a hand. “They couldn’t be here. Recently, we decided we were all due for a change, so off they went. The last I heard, they got married in Las Vegas.”

  “Vance and Katrina? Married?” Leah Ann said. “How scandalous!”

  “Not at all. It’s what they wanted all along,” Cece said, turning to Roger and changing the subject. “Roger, would you go with me to the bar? I would love an apple martini.”

  “Anything you want, Miss Vanderhaven.”

  “Call me Cece.” She rested her hand on Dalton’s arm. “You don’t mind, do you? Greta can keep you company.”

  “Whatever you want,” he said, giving her a smile.

  Leah Ann had treated Roger with such disdain, Greta was glad that Cece had added him to their group. She had a big heart, her cousin. Of course, that left Greta with Dalton, which wasn’t all that bad except for the way his eyes followed Cece to the bar. She wondered if he was disappointed being left behind with her. What had Katrina called her? Frumpy. Yes, that was it. Such an odd word. You almost never heard anyone use the word frumpy anymore, and yet Katrina had somehow decided that it fit Greta.

  “Did you want to go to the bar for a drink?” Dalton asked, breaking into her thoughts.