Harley gazed around the immense room and to the vintage bar where she would serve cocktails. She couldn’t help but imagine the opulent parties that must have been held there in years past, of men and women in black ties and evening gowns, sipping from champagne coupes and waltzing around the ballroom.
“Now this is somethin’,” Tina said with awe.
“Quite impressive, isn’t it?” Pearl said. “And now that Michael’s back in town, has taken his place at Briarcliffe, I expect we’ll be having a lot more of these parties.”
Not that we would be invited, Harley thought. Not as guests anyway.
“What’ll be you be serving tonight, Harley?” Pearl asked.
“The Seelbach.” When Pearl’s face registered no understanding of the term, Harley said, “It’s a cocktail with champagne, whiskey, Cointreau, and two types of bitters, Angostura and Peychaud. I thought it’d be the perfect drink for a celebratory occasion like tonight’s.”
“It does sound perfect.”
With that, the three of them reported to their respective duties. Harley set up lines of champagne coupes at the bar and prepped each with shots of whiskey. Tina arranged a variety of heavy hors d’oeuvres on silver platters for guests to consume as they mingled about the room. Pearl reported to the front of the house to greet the arriving guests.
However, the first person to arrive in the ballroom wasn’t a guest at all, but the host, Michael Sutcliffe. He wore a dark suit and burgundy dress shoes, no tie, with his blond hair neatly styled in a short cut. Though attractive in a boyish way, his looks paled in comparison to his late father’s, his eyes and features lacking the same depth of expression and masculine character. To Harley, he looked like a prep school kid playing dress-up in an expensive suit.
He gazed about the room, here and there, in search of someone. Not finding that someone, he approached the bar, and not acknowledging Harley, took a champagne coupe and downed the entirety in one swallow. He slammed the glass down and rapped his fingers against the bar top, still not making eye contact with her. Accustomed to being treated as invisible, she merely returned to her work.
Seconds later, Pearl walked in and hurried over. “Michael,” she said, her arms outstretched, “there you are. You look so handsome.”
“Where’s Savannah?” he asked.
“I’m sure she’ll be here shortly. The housekeeper said she went for a walk a little while ago. She probably just needed some air before the busyness of the party.”
“Needed some air? Doesn’t she know how important tonight is?” He straightened his suit in an effort to regain his composure. “I just wish she’d take things a little more seriously. As my wife, she’ll have a lot of social responsibilities—this party being just the first of them. ” He shook his head in frustration. “She’s a beauty queen, for heaven’s sake. She’s made for these kinds of things.”
“Well …” Pearl placed her hand on his forearm. “She did have a bit of a shock with Patrick’s death, as we all did.”
He waved her away with his right hand, the anger returning to his face. “Oh, please don’t bring him up. Not tonight.”
“Well, they were friends, dear.”
“Yes,” he said, tightening his fist. “Friends.” He checked his watch. “Look, I still need to put on my tie. Make sure she’s here before I get back.”
Before Pearl could answer, he stormed out of the room. Moments later, Harley heard his dress shoes stomp up the grand staircase to the third floor.
“Oh dear,” Pearl said, turning to Harley. “It’s just like I said. The whole situation is terrible. How I do feel for Michael.”
Harley felt for Savannah.
“Could you please go check out back?” Pearl asked. “See if you can find her?”
“I will,” she said with reluctance, “but I don’t know if she’ll come back with me.”
“Please just try, Harley. I can’t go myself. Tina’s still busy with the food and someone has to be here to greet the guests.”
“I’ll do it, but just for you.”
Pearl smiled with appreciation, and Harley made her way toward the line of French doors leading out onto the patio.
Darkness had settled over the immense grounds, a wave of muted green and gray lawn rolling past the solarium to the cliffside and navy sky beyond. The Smokies had many such overlooks and mountain trails, but this view was particularly beautiful, Harley thought. A brilliant harvest moon shone overhead, guiding her footsteps as she made her way down the stone path toward the cliffside. It seemed like the ideal place for a troubled mind in need of quiet reflection, and she thought she might find Savannah there.
And there she was, standing near the edge in a red flowing evening dress, her blond hair styled in a chignon, a string of diamonds linked around her long neck. Her back was turned, but Harley could tell she had been crying, her features etched in the same look Harley had witnessed so many years ago on her grandfather’s farm. Did Savannah still remember that day as vividly as she did?