Despite her illness and my remaining weakness, we both got up early the next morning to pick up our gowns. In a couple of days, it would be Amelia’s birthday. Her three brothers also had birthdays this past week and next, and Amelia’s mother was having her annual Winters Family Birthday Gala and charity dinner for them later today.
An invitation to Hilda Winters’s annual party was a mark of distinction. Every year, Hilda pulled out all the stops for the elite of the city. It was her way of showing off the family wealth without being ostentatious. Like any good society lady, Hilda Winters knew that you shouldn’t throw a huge, lavish party without an associated charitable cause. It was unseemly to spend money without a reason. Hilda and Ted’s ruby wedding anniversary last fall was one thing—a party attended only by close family and friends. Over three hundred people were coming to the gala tonight. It would be irresponsible to let the opportunity to bleed all of these socialites go to waste. I’d struggled with this concept when Amelia first told me about it. It seemed like asking for money to attend what was ostensibly a social gathering, even if it was a large one. Moreover, it took attention away from what was supposed to be the point of the evening: the birthdays of four members of the Winters family.
While I was looking forward to it out of a kind of horrified curiosity, the whole thing sounded cold and impersonal. It basically disgusted me until Amelia told me that last year they’d raised over a million dollars for the Louisiana Wetlands. Put that way, it did seem like it would be a wasted opportunity to raise money. Nearly everyone coming tonight could clearly afford to give some of their money away.
Further, this year’s cause was Amelia’s choice. She and her brothers took turns choosing the charity. She’d chosen a local art coalition that brought artists and art workshops into local public schools and daycares that would otherwise be unable to fund them. A million dollars would go a long way toward making sure that a local budding artist would have a chance to find his or her passion.
Hilda required the whole family to greet the guests when they arrived, which meant that I would arrive separately from Amelia later. Amelia chose my gown to complement hers, but she had to leave early that afternoon to join her family for some last-minute arrangements. In the meantime, I painted for a few hours and then drove over to Amelia’s house to finish getting ready. After I was dressed and styled, I sat in the front parlor, trying not to wrinkle my gown. I was waiting for my escort, Billy, Emma’s boyfriend, to take me to the party. Amelia’s oldest brother, Dean, was allowed to have his wife with him, but only because she was legally part of the family now. Billy and I would be upgraded to honorary Winterses only if we married our respective partners—not before then. Amelia had taken her mother’s edict with better grace than I would have, but then again, she was used to her.
Billy finally arrived about five minutes before we needed to leave. As he approached Amelia’s house on the small stone walkway, I was once again struck by how incredibly huge he was. With a massive red beard and matching fiery hair, he looked like a lumberjack stuffed in a tuxedo. I opened the door and had to crane my neck to meet his eyes, and when he offered me his arm, I had to reach up to take his elbow.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked as we walked down the front stairs.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I told him. “I’m not really sure what to expect.”
As it was only a couple of blocks between Amelia’s house and her parents’, we were walking to the party. I was relieved to notice that it was marginally warmer than it had been for over a week now, but I was still cold in my dress and light wrap.
He grinned down at me. “This is the third one of these things I’ve been to, so I can give you the scoop if you want.”
This comment surprised me. I knew Emma and Billy had been dating for a while but would never have expected it to be quite so long.
He was looking down at me and must have read something in my face. “I know, I know—I should propose one of these days, right?”
I blushed, embarrassed to be so transparent. “It’s not my business. I’m sorry.”
He stopped and I looked up at him. His face was red beneath his beard, but his anxiety looked more like nervousness than embarrassment. “The truth is, I’ve been carrying a ring around for a long time now. I bought it last summer, actually.”
“Oh!” I said, pleased and surprised. I knew Emma was head over heels for him.
“I feel like I can tell you, because you’re not part of that family yet either, and I know you won’t leak it—even to Amelia.”
I shook my head. “Of course not.”
He still looked nervous and I patted his giant arm. “Don’t worry about it, Billy. I can only imagine how hard it would be to propose. You’ll know the right time.”
He nodded, but he was clearly troubled. I grabbed his arm again, and we continued to walk. Neither of us was in a rush to get there, so we moved slowly.
“Anyway, about tonight,” he finally said. “You can expect to be shuffled around like a piece of meat, and you’ll be incredibly lucky if you manage to talk to Amelia at all. That mother of theirs is ruthless about decorum. She probably has you seated as far away from the family table as possible—at least that’s what she does with me.”
I was surprised and dismayed. I’d assumed that after the formal lineup, the family would join the rest of the guests, and Amelia and I would get to spend the evening together. Apparently I’d assumed incorrectly. It bothered me that Amelia hadn’t told me about this arrangement. I wouldn’t have been any happier about the situation, but at least I would have been prepared.
We could hear the party long before we reached the right block, and when we could see it, I was stunned. Thousands of twinkling lights covered the outside of the house and the trees and yard. The house itself is a stark white in the Greek Revival style, with large columns at the front. It takes up an entire city block in the Garden District and has been in the Winters family since it was built in the early nineteenth century. Listed on New Orleans “Must See” lists for tourists, it’s gorgeous but impersonal and cold, especially on the first, tourist-accessible floor, which is kept roped off with period-appropriate antiques. The twinkling lights helped make it seem friendlier, but the crowds I could see were already intimidating.
A long line of cars wrapped around the block, and several valet attendants were taking keys and moving vehicles to a nearby lot. As we approached, I saw a flash of cameras as a rich-looking couple climbed out of a limo, and I suddenly realized that the press was here in force. Suddenly feeling a little stupid for walking, I motioned Billy toward the side of the red carpet, where it appeared we could sneak around the press and in through a different door. Unfortunately, the reporters saw us anyway, and I’m sure we looked guilty once we were spotted. Billy helped me endure the gauntlet of cameras and microphones, shielding me from the pushiest of the press. We finally made it past the media crowd and were climbing the little steps up to the front door when someone called my name from the crowd of cameras and people in the press pit. I couldn’t help but spin around, and what seemed like a thousand flashes greeted my eyes. I tried to shield myself from the light, but it still dazzled me and left me half blind. I squinted, trying to see if someone I knew was in the crowd, but a moment later Billy’s arm was around my waist, gently leading me toward the front door.
Once inside, we joined the line waiting to greet the family. I could just see Amelia’s parents from our spot inside the door, but the rest of the family was hidden by the crowd talking to them and shaking their hands. It resembled a receiving line at a wedding, and I had to swallow a little flame of annoyance at how ridiculous and tiring this all was—for me and for them. It was no secret that Hilda Winters insisted on this party every year, and while her children seemed inured to this bizarre tradition, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like for Amelia to grow up with a mother who valued her as an individual rather than an accessory to her vanity. The whole family was Hilda’s showpiece for the public tonight.
The antechamber we waited in was lined with easels full of artwork made by local children and teens. Each piece had an artist’s write-up, very much as if it were being displayed in a museum. The write-ups were amusing and cute, and the works displayed were, at times, impressive. I knew without asking that Amelia had created this little art showcase all on her own, and my heart grew two sizes thinking about how hard she’d clearly worked on it. I didn’t mind that she hadn’t brought me in on this project, as it was clearly a personal endeavor. She always managed to have the best surprises.
Long before we reached the receiving line, Billy was shifting impatiently from one foot to the next. He’d been to this party twice before, I remembered. He was clearly uncomfortable in this setting—even more than I was—but he was willing to put up with it, even if he only got to see his girlfriend in passing. I smiled at what this suggested about him. He was clearly a loyal and good man. I asked him a few times what was happening at the front of the line, and he gave short, impatient answers, his eyes clearly fixed on Emma. His love for her was moving and adorable.
After what seemed like an eternity, the two of us made it to the front of the line. The Winterses were arranged in birth order, from eldest to youngest, including the parents. Ted Winters, Amelia’s father, was first. He is a tall, fit man in his late sixties, with a full head of beautiful wavy, gray hair and a nicely trimmed, steel-colored beard. He has sparkling, kind green eyes and a brilliant smile.
“Billy!” he said when he saw him. They clasped hands and did that awkward man hug, one arm tapping the other’s back before quickly moving apart. Ted spotted me and he grinned. “And you’re here with Chloé!” He pulled me into a real hug and then held me at arm’s length, looking me up and down. “I probably shouldn’t say this to you, Billy, but I think you might have the prettiest escort in the whole place.”
I couldn’t help but color at his compliment, and both men laughed.
“I count myself lucky,” Billy said. “Last year I brought Aunt Trudie.”
Ted’s laugh was a bark of merriment, and I saw Hilda Winters give him a dirty look. Billy and I moved a couple of paces over to her, and she shook our hands. She is without argument a stunning woman, with gorgeous, porcelain skin, beautiful silver hair, and impeccable clothes. She is a little too thin, if anything, but very attractive in a cold, remote way. She had a phony, plastic smile for us and some empty platitudes, but she was already looking back toward the line, anticipating the next group of people before either of us had a chance to say hello. Billy and I shared an amused glance, neither of us surprised by her behavior. I’m fairly certain she hates anyone who steals her children’s attention away from her.
Dean and Ingrid were next, standing so close to each other we didn’t have to greet them separately. Dean was moderately warmer than his mother—or at least faked it better—but his wife barely met my eyes. She was nicer to Billy, but I couldn’t tell if this was because she was more familiar with him or because of her dislike for me, personally. At the few family gatherings I’d attended so far, she and Hilda had regarded me with poorly veiled disdain, but I didn’t want to write off Ingrid quite yet. It was just possible that she simply took a while to warm up.
Bobby was next in line, and only then did I realize that his children were missing. Dean and Ingrid’s were also not in attendance, but it seemed less natural for Bobby to be here without his three daughters. They were all so close, he seemed incomplete without them. He brightened perceptibly when he saw us, and we went through a similar process with him as we had with Ted a few minutes ago.
“You look fantastic, Chloé. I’m so very glad you came. I know Amelia’s been waiting for you all night.”
I glanced over past her brother Michael at Amelia and saw her chatting with an older couple. She regarded them with fully focused interest, but something in the set of her shoulders suggested that she knew I was here a few feet away. My heart gave a spasm of yearning and happiness. She was easily the most attractive woman in the room, and she was mine.
I looked back at Bobby and Billy, and they were both watching me, clearly amused.
“You’ve got it bad,” Bobby said, chuckling. “Did you even hear anything I just said?”
“What? No. I’m sorry,” I stammered.
He shook his head. “No problem.”
“Happy birthday, by the way,” I added.
Bobby smiled. “Do you know that you’re the first person to say that to me all evening?”
My jaw dropped involuntarily, and he laughed at my expression. He held up his hands, “Don’t worry about it. Everyone knows what this party is really about—and it’s certainly not any of us kids.”
The line of people finally moved forward, and we were greeted by Michael and Jenna. Michael is the youngest son in the Winters family, and Jenna is his girlfriend. Both Michael and Jenna play in my friend Meghan’s band, and they had flown back from tour to be here tonight. We all embraced, and Jenna and I complimented each other’s dresses.
“How’s Meghan?” I asked.
Michael laughed. “Crazy, as usual. We left her in some little divey hotel in Florida when we flew out this morning. It was five in the morning, and she was up from the night before. We’re flying back there tomorrow.”
Billy leaned close to him conspiratorially. “How did you get Jenna in line with you?”
Michael and Jenna laughed.
“Well, as you know,” Michael said, “I’m not much of a rule follower. My mother barely acknowledges my existence, let alone Jenna’s. I decided yesterday that I’ve gone along with her silly rules long enough, so I just brought Jenna with me today when I got here. Even Hilda Winters wasn’t rude enough to send her away, though she did give us some really lovely glares this afternoon.”
“Damn,” Billy said, rubbing his chin. “I wish I’d thought of that.”
I did too, but then again, Amelia had been the one so adamant that we follow her mother’s strictures—not me. I didn’t like it, but I knew she was trying to get me on her mother’s good side. For now, I would follow her lead.
When the line finally moved again, Amelia dropped all decorum and came to me, folding me into her arms and kissing me soundly in front of everyone. She was sagging with fatigue, and her face was still drawn with jet lag, stress, and her cold. She and Billy greeted each other briefly, but his eyes remained on the last person in line—Emma—who was speaking to the older couple just in front of us with clear impatience.
“You look good enough to eat,” Amelia whispered, her breath warm on my ear.
“Later,” I whispered back. I was amused to see her eyes flare in shock.
“When will I get to see you again?” I asked.
She shrugged with defeat. “I don’t know. This line always takes forever, and then it’s time for the speeches and dinner. Then I have to walk around schmoozing people for money. We might get a chance to dance once or twice in a couple of hours.” She paused and appeared apologetic. “I’m sorry, Chloé. I should have told you it would be like this—I just sort of forgot about it.”
She looked so sad and downtrodden, I didn’t want to make her feel any worse, so I lifted my shoulders and smiled. “It’s okay. At least I have Billy here with me.”
She looked troubled and then sighed. “You’re actually not sitting with him tonight. My mother does the table arrangements, and she put you in different parts of the room.”
I had to laugh. Something about this seemed so typically Hilda, it wasn’t actually a surprise. But, before we could talk about it anymore, the space in front of us finally cleared, and Billy was literally picking Emma off the ground in a bear hug. Amelia and I shared an amused glance and a quick kiss, and I moved aside to make room for the people behind me. Amelia refocused immediately, chatting with them, and, as Billy and Emma continued their PDA, I stood awkwardly to the side, trying not to stare at their antics.
Emma finally spotted me and stepped out of Billy’s arms to give me a quick hug. “I’m sorry I got so drunk the other day. I’m still hung over, if you can believe it. I blame that bartender. She was flirting with me, I think.”
Billy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Emma and I laughed.
Emma patted his arm. “Don’t worry, honey—she wasn’t my type. That Teddy, on the other hand…” She looked at me and waved a hand in front of her face as if she were overheated.
“Wait, who’s Teddy?” Billy asked, looking even more confused.
Emma and I laughed again, and then I stepped aside to give them a moment alone for their good-byes.
Finally free of the line, Billy and I fought the crowd over to another shorter line in order to receive our table assignments. When we compared our cards, I saw that we were seated almost as far away from each other as possible. We both grinned, amused that Hilda could be so—at best—utterly clueless or, at worst, cruelly manipulative.
“We don’t have to sit down right away,” Billy said, trying to sound reassuring. “Do you want to get a drink first?”
“That sounds like a good plan.”
We walked around the reception room, looking for a bar, then spotted a waiter with champagne flutes. We both took one, and Billy tossed his drink down in one gulp, the glass toy-like in his giant hand. He grimaced at the taste and set his empty glass on the waiter’s tray before grabbing a new one.
“It’s bad enough we have to drink this crap, and then they only give you a mouthful at a time,” he said. “I wonder where they’re keeping the real drinks. Last year the bar was right over here.” He looked around over the heads of the crowd, and I saw his eyes light up when he spotted it. He looked down at me. “Wanna wait here? I’ll be right back.”
I nodded, and he handed me his glass of champagne. He strode away, disappearing into the crowd. I found myself alone for the first time tonight and suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. Having Billy nearby took a lot of attention away from me because of his size. Standing here alone, I was suddenly on display. I detected several covert and not-so-covert glances my way, and I could feel the color mounting in my face. I looked down at my drink and the extra in my other hand and felt a strong temptation to slam both of them to ease my nerves. The temptation passed, but I continued to keep my eyes down and away from people’s faces, too embarrassed to look anyone in the eye.
I heard my name in the crowd and turned toward the person who’d called it, my mood changing to relief, but I didn’t see anyone I knew. Instead, I met the eyes of several people clearly staring at me and flushed with embarrassment. I looked around again, trying to spot the person who’d called, wondering if they’d been waylaid on their way over to me. It had been a woman’s voice—that much I knew—but I didn’t recognize anyone around me. Far off, almost on the other side of the room, I recognized someone, but she was turned away from me so I couldn’t see her face. Her figure and her posture seemed familiar from behind, however, and I watched her for a long time, hoping to see her turn my way. I was just on the verge of walking over to her when someone suddenly jostled me. Some of my champagne sloshed out onto my hand, and I just managed to stop myself from cursing.
“Oh, please forgive me,” an elderly man told me. “I can barely see where I’m going in this crowd.”
“It’s no problem,” I said. “It’s not very good champagne anyway.”
He chuckled and moved on. When I looked back across the room, the woman I’d spotted was gone. I looked around again, hoping to see her, but in vain. Whoever she was, she’d disappeared.
Billy came back then with two glasses of bourbon. We both laughed at having two drinks in our hands, and Billy drank one of his quickly, setting the glass down on a little table nearby. I followed suit, and he grinned.
“You’re a lot more fun than anyone Amelia’s dated before,” he said. He seemed to realize his mistake immediately, as his face reddened perceptibly.
I felt a sweeping thrill of curiosity. On the whole, Amelia avoided talking about her exes. She had a lot of them, and I’d learned that in the past she generally didn’t keep girlfriends around for very long, but so far, I’d gleaned very little information about any of them. I knew, for instance, that until she met me, Amelia had never brought a girlfriend to meet her parents before, but that same rule had clearly not applied to her siblings. Emma and Bobby had mentioned meeting exes, and I’d gotten the impression from both of them that they hadn’t really liked any of them very much or at all. It was too awkward to ask Emma or Bobby about them, but as Billy had also been around long enough to meet some of them, maybe I could use this opportunity to get some information. Amelia wouldn’t like it, but the champagne I’d just gulped down was making me feel a little reckless, so I decided to ignore my misgivings.
Billy looked uncomfortable and guilty and wouldn’t meet my eyes. He clearly regretted speaking up. I touched his arm and he looked down at me, his face grim.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“It’s okay,” I said, keeping my voice purposefully casual. “I’m just curious. Amelia won’t tell me about anyone she used to date. Well, almost anyone. I know about Sara.”
Billy rolled his eyes. “That woman was a piece of work.”
I pounced on this tidbit. “How so?”
Billy shook his head. “They were together for a long time—well, long for Amelia anyway. A year? Year and a half? I don’t remember. Amelia was clearly in love with her, but Sara was a wreck. All she ever did was lie and cheat. Broke Amelia’s heart.”
While it was reassuring to know that Amelia had at least one long-term relationship before me, I was stunned. I’d known she and Sara had been together longer than most of her other girlfriends, but I hadn’t known Amelia actually cared for her. Most of Amelia’s stories about her exes made it sound like they had endured for weeks at most. Amelia had withheld almost all details about her past with Sara from me, but from what she had told me about her before, I’d assumed their relationship had been mainly sexual.
Sara had inserted herself into our lives last November when she assaulted me in the bathroom of a bar. She hadn’t hurt me badly, but she’d definitely scared me. She’d threatened me and my family and warned me off Amelia. I didn’t listen to her, and so far I hadn’t heard from her again, but her phantom still lingered at the edges of my relationship with Amelia. Amelia was reluctant to talk about her more than she already had. The only thing I knew was that they’d broken up and then Sara started sending mysterious and sometimes threatening messages to Amelia’s new girlfriends and to Amelia herself. She’d never gone further than that until she attacked me last autumn.
I was about to ask Billy more about Sara and the other exes he’d met, but we heard the sound of the band striking up “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” This seemed to be some kind of cue for everyone to go into the ballroom. Billy motioned toward the open doorway and I followed him, reluctant to end our conversation.
The entire Winters family was on a stage at the far end of the room, and everyone joined in the chorus to sing to them. It was strange on many levels, chief of which was the fact that Amelia’s mother seemed to think everyone was singing entirely for her and not for her children on their birthdays. The song continued into a third round, which was long enough for almost all of the attendees to finally gather in the ballroom and find their seats.
While my table assignment was surprisingly close to the stage, I’d been placed between two elderly women who refused to greet me when I approached the table. They both looked hostile, though as far as I knew I’d never met them before. My chair was also pointed away from the stage. I turned it around and sat down, and as I did, I saw both of the women on either side of me give me a dirty look. I smiled back at them with mock graciousness and then ignored them.
A few moments later, Hilda Winters took the center stage in front of the microphone, and the voices in the room gradually quieted as she waited for attention.
“Welcome all to the Winters Family Birthday Gala!” she finally said. Tremendous applause and a few whistles greeted her, and she flushed with pride.
“The celebration marks the thirty-seventh birthday gala, which has taken place in late January since our eldest son, Dean, was just one year old.”
I found it strange that after the applause, Hilda didn’t ask Dean to say anything. In fact, as mistress of ceremonies, she seemed reluctant to acknowledge that she was onstage with anyone else. The rest of the family stood a few paces behind her, all of them smiling like fools. A flash of hot anger swept through me at this whole charade. If Hilda wanted a party, I thought, why even pretend it was for her children? It all seemed so fake and pretentious.
Hilda cleared her throat. “Tonight’s silent auction will be an ongoing affair throughout the evening. On your place setting, you will see a large envelope, and inside that envelope you will see a list of items our generous donors have contributed toward our cause. Simply make your bid and give the envelope to one of the stewards here in the room.” She pointed them out. “If you would like to make a donation, please write the check to Art for the People. My beautiful daughter Amelia will tell you more about the organization now.”
Hilda Winters was clearly reluctant to cede any of the attention she’d received, as, rather than rejoining the line with the rest of the family, she simply took a couple of steps to the left of the microphone. Amelia walked forward, and my heart gave a jagged leap when she took center stage. She was, as always, incredibly beautiful. I’d been so pleased to see her earlier in the receiving line that I’d barely noticed what she was wearing. Tonight her dark, wavy hair was arranged loosely on top of her head and held in place with what looked like pearls. They studded her hair and stood out in vivid contrast to her dark locks. Unlike her mother’s light-blue and icy eyes, Amelia’s are a startlingly dark, deep blue, like the ocean in a storm. She’s almost exactly my height but slighter overall, with narrow hips and a slender waist. In her gorgeous red-silk gown, she was positively stunning. The crowd around me seemed to agree, as a kind of preternatural silence swept across the room at her appearance. Everyone was looking at her with awe.
“Thank you all so very much for being here tonight,” Amelia said. She was clearly confident in front of a large crowd. Had I been up there, I would have been, at best, stammering, more likely speechless. She looked comfortable, more at ease than her mother, in fact.
“Art for the People is a local chapter of the national organization that brings art to children and teens. The wonderful pieces in the lobby are works created in part by the generous efforts of this organization with local primary and secondary schools. As you know, the Winters family has long been a patron of the arts, none more so than me. Studies have shown that children exposed to the creative arts at a young age are more successful in all subjects in school, and they are less likely to engage in petty or violent crime. Please consider the future of young people and art in our fair city when you make your donations tonight. A young da Vinci or Cassatt might be waiting for the paints or pencils your generosity could provide. Thank you.”
While I am, of course, biased, I thought her speech was very nicely done, and I’m sure I clapped the longest and the loudest of anyone in the room. It had been informative but not didactic, pleading but not desperate. It was, like the woman who gave it, perfection.
Hilda closed the opening remarks with a few words of her own, and we were finally dismissed for the meal. I stood up and turned my chair around, once again noticing that the women on either side of me seemed put out to have me here with them. After I sat down, I glanced around the table, hoping for a friendly face, but no one looked at me for more than a moment except to glare. They clearly all knew each other and had apparently decided to pretend I wasn’t here. Rather than let it bother me, I took this dismissal as a gift, as it meant that I wouldn’t have to make small talk with anyone. I did enough of that at work.
Simply to have something to do, I opened the envelope on my plate. Inside was a long list of items donated for the auction tonight. I noted that Amelia had given several paintings to the cause, all of which I recognized as coming from her personal collection. Her parents, brothers, and sister had also contributed, and though Michael and Emma’s respective gifts of music and film memorabilia were clearly more modest than those of their elder, wealthier siblings, I was still pleased to see that their names had been included.
People outside of the family and a few organizations had also donated items and event tickets, but the one that grabbed my attention had been donated by a local travel agency: a six-night trip for two to Puerto Vallarta. While I knew I was lucky to live in such a warm climate, and I knew our cold snap was likely to pass any day now, the thought of basking in the warm sun on a sandy beach made me yearn for it in a kind of hungry desperation. I hadn’t actually been to a beach in years. Between graduate school and internships, I’d barely had a vacation longer than a couple of days since my undergraduate years. Amelia and I had been working long, back-to-back days almost since I started working with her. Except for a few days during the holidays and my illness last week, I hadn’t had a single break.
This didn’t, however, mean that I had the money to outbid anyone for the trip. Between setting up my apartment and paying off some of the debt I’d accumulated as a graduate student, I was still fairly tight on money most of the time. Working for Amelia meant I was very well paid, but it would be a long time before I had enough extra money set aside for a vacation. Sighing, I returned the auction card to my plate and took out my checkbook. I could make a small donation, at the very least.
Dinner was served soon after this, and no one spoke to me the whole time we ate. By the time the cabernet sorbet was served, I’d been sitting there in relative silence for almost an hour, and my carefree façade was beginning to crack. To pass the time, I’d read the auction sheet to myself so many times I must have looked like a crazy person. There simply wasn’t enough information on that piece of paper to warrant a twentieth read, but it gave me something to look at. Sighing, I set it down for the last time and stood up. The movement caught my tablemates by surprise, and I smiled at them.
“Such a pleasure,” I said, loud enough for all of them and nearby tables to hear. I saw a couple of the people I’d been sitting with flush, but I wasn’t in the mood to feel bad about my rudeness in the face of theirs. I needed some air or I might start tearing my hair out. I pushed my chair in and walked away as quickly as I could. One of the waiters saw me looking around, and when I told him what I needed, he directed me toward a large purple curtain that had been hung in front of the back exit. I thanked him and went out into the cold night.
I walked across the patio, rounded a corner into the back flower garden, and found the darkness back there thick and deep. Clearly the family had not anticipated anyone coming out here on their own, as the garden lights were off. Safely hidden from the people in the ballroom, I took several long, deep breaths and closed my eyes. A moment later, I heard something snap off to my left and jerked my eyes open.
“Hello?” I asked, peering into the dark. “Is someone there?” I couldn’t see anything or anyone. I stood there for a long time, squinting and looking in the direction of the sound, but nothing was there.
Shivering now from the cold, I decided to head back inside. The last thing I wanted was to go back into that room with all of those terrible people, but at least I might get to see Amelia again. I took the long way back and reentered the house from the side to avoid any curious questions.
* * *
Sara let out the breath she was holding when Chloé finally went away. She’d seen her leave the party through the back door and had raced out here from the side so she could watch her from the garden. To her surprise, instead of staying on the patio, she started walking toward Sara. For a moment, Sara was certain that she’d been spotted, that Chloé was coming to talk to her, so she’d decided to hide in the farthest reach of the garden. It was so dark there, no one would be able to see her.
When Chloé came around the edge of the hedge, however, it was clear that she wasn’t looking for her. She was out here on her own for some reason, and Sara watched her stand there by herself for a long moment and take deep breaths. Chloé closed her eyes, and Sara’s heart leapt at her luck. She hadn’t planned to do it tonight, but she couldn’t ignore an opportunity when it fell in her lap. She reached in her purse for her little pistol and took a step forward from behind the tree, but she stupidly managed to step on a branch, snapping it. Chloé jumped and looked directly at her, but the darkness still hid her. Sara stopped completely and held her breath, not wanting to give Chloé a reason to investigate. After a while, Chloé relaxed and then shivered, rubbing the cold from her bare arms. Finally, she turned and walked away.
Sara cursed herself. She’d almost blown the whole thing. When she’d heard about the gala tonight, she’d been reminded of how Amelia had refused to let her attend when they were together. Amelia’s excuse at the time had been her parents—they wouldn’t want to rub a lesbian in their guests’ faces. Yet here was Chloé, greeted by Ted and Hilda and the rest of the family like an old friend. Naively, Sara hadn’t expected to see Chloé here. She’d come only to see Amelia, knowing that she might not get another opportunity before she had to leave New Orleans again. She’d been invited to the gala by Daphne Waters—a family friend of a Winters—but when she and Daphne got out of the car in front of the mansion a couple of hours ago, she’d been flabbergasted to spot Chloé sneaking in ahead of her. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from calling her name, and it had taken a series of deft lies to Daphne to cover up her stupidity.
Inside, she simply avoided the receiving line, walking past the whole family without notice. She’d waited in the reception room and watched Chloé come through the line, and then she hid in the crowd when she saw Chloé coming her way with that giant oaf of a man Emma was still seeing—Timmy or Jimbo, or whatever his name was. He’d been rude to her when she met him a few times years ago. And to be perfectly honest, his size also intimidated her, so she patiently waited until Chloé was alone again before calling her name once more.
All evening, she knew she was courting disaster. Any moment then or now, someone would recognize her, and it would cause a scene. More than the scene, however, Sara was afraid of putting Chloé or Amelia on the lookout for her again. They’d clearly forgotten about her at this point—that whole disastrous slipup at the bar last November was safely in the past. Sara knew that surprise was the only thing she had going for her, and she was on the brink of showing her hand.
She didn’t want either Chloé or Amelia to know she was coming for them. She wanted to ambush them when they least expected it.
There was, however, one last thing she needed to do before she left the party, and she grinned wickedly. Tonight was, after all, a charitable event, and she hadn’t bid on anything from the auction. If she was careful, she could sneak in and do it now before anyone noticed her.