At ten o’clock the next morning, Rachel bounced in to Dulcie’s office. “Visitors!” she announced.
“Thank you, Rachel. And who might they be?”
Rachel stepped back. “These guys,” she said, walking by Nick and Lawrence Bellamy who had just entered the office.
“Thank you Rachel. As always you are a wealth of knowledge and decorum!” Dulcie called out after her.
“I do what I can!” she called back from the hallway.
“She really is a very good assistant,” Dulcie laughed. “In spite of the sass.”
Nick chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought a guest.”
“Not at all,” Dulcie replied. She came around her desk and shook hands with Lawrence. He towered over her. Her fingers looked like a child’s compared to his, but his handshake was gentle. “What can I do for you two?”
“I’m wondering if we can see the painting that Xander made,” Nick asked. “The one in Oscar Bernstein’s study.”
“Yes, absolutely,” Dulcie replied turning to a table in the corner. Several canvases were propped against the wall on it. She rearranged them, bringing the requested work to the front.
Lawrence stepped forward. “I do remember,” he said quietly. “That was the last argument I had with Oscar. It was the day he died. I didn’t realize that Xander saw us in there.” Lawrence thought of the sketchbook Xander had made, the fear he must have understood. “I wish I could have done more for my son. I wish I had just taken him away…,” his voice quavered.
Dulcie began to speak, to reassure him, but Nick shook his head. “Lawrence, I want you to look at this carefully. Do you see this shadow over here.”
Lawrence leaned over and studied the painting. “Yes,” he replied simply.
“It looks like the shadow of a person,” Nick said.
“It is,” Lawrence replied.
“Can you tell us who was in the room with Oscar when you left?” Nick asked.
Lawrence’s voice was soft. Barely audible. “Giselle,” he whispered.
“Means, motive, and opportunity,” Nick said after Lawrence had left. Giselle had the means. It wouldn’t have taken much, especially in a fit of rage, for her to push Oscar out the window. He wasn’t a big man, and he was old.”
“True. She had the motive, certainly. Oscar was a major factor in her sister’s death, and he sounds like he was pretty horrible when it came to Xander,” Dulcie added.
“So we’re down to opportunity. She had that as well.”
“She did?” Dulcie exclaimed. “But I thought that she and Xander…”
“That’s her story. She could have pushed him out the window earlier. She knew Lawrence had gone out and she knew approximately when he would be back. She could have pushed Oscar, taken Xander for a quick walk, and come back to find Oscar dead.”
Dulcie pondered this new scenario. “Yes, she could have done that. Do you have that sketchbook with you, by any chance?”
“Actually I do. I brought in case we wanted to look at it along with the painting.” He fished through a canvas bag on the floor beside him. Dulcie realized that Nick never carried anything. Was that part of the police thing? Were both hands supposed to be free at all times?
Nick interrupted her thoughts and handed her the book. Dulcie opened it from the back to look at the image of Lawrence and Oscar’s body. She very carefully examined one object and the next, scrutinizing the detail. It all seemed to fit, until… there! Yes, that was it. She turned the page to look at the back of the paper. Yes, that confirmed it.
“What are you doing?” Nick asked.
“I’m doing what I should have done before. I’m looking at the technique and not the subject. And what I see is exactly what I know that that I should have expected to see.”
“I’m confused,” Nick confessed.
“Look at the way Xander draws. He’s outlined everything, almost like a cartoon. It doesn’t look cartoonish because he show’s detail so well, but the outline is there on everything in the picture. But look at the shadow in the window. No outline.”
Nick leaned over the drawing. His nose was almost on the paper. “You’re right!”
“And look at this.” Dulcie turned the page over. “You can see consistent indentations on the back of the paper. He doesn’t press very hard. But again, look at the shadow. You can feel it bump out on the back.” She ran her fingers across it. Involuntarily, Nick did the same.
“So this means that the shadow might have been added later,” Nick reasoned.
“Yes, and it means that most likely, Xander didn’t draw the shadow,” Dulcie said. “To my knowledge, only two people have seen this book other than you and I. Lawrence, and…”
“Giselle,” Nick finished the sentence.
Dulcie felt sick. The one person that had cared for Xander. The one person who truly understood him. They couldn’t just rip her away like that. What would happen to him? It would be even worse than his father being taken away. Yet she had betrayed Dulcie’s trust. She had betrayed everyone’s trust. Dulcie still couldn’t believe it, but Giselle must have done it. She must have pushed Oscar out the window in a fit of rage or even despair.
Did she feel justified killing him? When Lawrence went to prison for her crime, what did she feel then? How could she have let that happen? But Dulcie understood. Giselle was Xander’s aunt, just as Edith was Xander’s aunt. The aunties close ranks, more so than any other blood relation, when the children have to be protected. It happened not only with humans, but other species as well. Dulcie had read that it was undoubtedly biological in some way. She wondered if Edith knew or suspected anything about Giselle.
Nick was still talking. “I need to find Johnson. We have to go through the file, get everyone’s story again.” His mind was already spinning.
“Unless I get Giselle to confess,” Dulcie said.
“What? How is that even possible? She didn’t say anything before. Why would she now?”
“Because I know. Because I have all of the pieces that, together, form the proof. Because I can convince her that if she does confess, it will be easier for her. The sentence could be more lenient.”
“How… how do you propose to do this?” Nick stammered.
“I’ll go to their house. I’ll bring the painting and the sketch. I’ll record the conversation.”
“Oh no! No undercover work for you, Dulcie!”
“All right. Fine. You can be in the next room or the hallway or wherever.” Dulcie was thoughtful for a moment. “You know, we should get Edith’s help, too. She’s brusque, but I know she’d see this whole situation the right way.”
Nick was silent. Then he reached into his pocket for his phone. “I have to call Johnson,” he said. “You call dear Aunt Edith.”
An hour later, Dulcie approached the house of Xander Bellamy carrying his painting and sketchbook. She rang the bell. Giselle came to the door.
“Dul-cee, quelle surprise!” she said by way of greeting.
“Yes, I spoke to Edith,” Dulcie wasn’t sure if Giselle knew that Dulcie and Edith had spoken earlier. “She didn’t tell you I’d be here, evidently.”
“Non, but come in. I see you have Xander’s artworks. Are you returning them?”
“Yes,” Dulcie lied. “Could I bring them upstairs?” Dulcie had covered the large canvas with cloth so that Giselle could not see what it was. She hoped that Giselle would think it was the painting that Xander had made of Dulcie.
“Of course,” Giselle said. “Follow me.” They went to Xander’s studio.
Downstairs, Dulcie heard the door open softly, then close. She put down Xander’s things and said, “Giselle, I know this sounds odd, but could I see Oscar’s studio one more time? I saw something in the painting Xander did that I wanted to look at.”
Giselle looked puzzled, but waved Dulcie through toward the room, then followed her in.
Dulcie stopped and looked around for several moments. “Giselle, I know it was horrible living with Oscar,” she began.
“Oui. He was a terrible man. One had to cope.”
Dulcie hoped that Nick was in the hallway, listening. She thought she had given him enough time to come upstairs. “It must have been terrible, knowing Oscar had contributed to those deaths.”
“You mean Xander’s mère?”
“Yes, I mean Xander’s mother Your sister. I also mean Xander’s grandmother, Lily, who was your mother.”
Giselle turned white. She swayed. Dulcie thought she was going to fall over. Giselle collapsed into a chair. “You know my secret,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Dulcie said quietly. “That’s why you cared about Xander, truly loved him, so much. That’s why you must have snapped when you were in this room with Oscar on the last day of his life.”
Giselle’s eyes were wide. “How did you know…?”
“Because Gisa and Giselle are the same name in different languages. The records office in Quebec confirmed the rest. More importantly, however, is that Xander made a painting. He had walked by the room the day that Oscar was killed. He saw his father, and his grandfather, but not the third person in the room. He simply saw a shadow of the third person. Today, Lawrence saw that painting. He said that the shadow was you.”
Giselle had begun to cry. Tears streamed down her face. “Oui! I was in the room! He was terrible that day! I was so angry and hurt! But you think…” she sobbed, “You think I killed him? Non! I did not! I could not! I hated him with all of the venom in my heart, but I could not have done such a thing as push him out the window! I couldn’t!”
Dulcie had not anticipated this reaction. Worse, she was now beginning to believe Giselle. She turned and looked out the window, her mind reeling. Bright sunshine streamed through the trees and danced on the paved driveway below. A squirrel hopped from a branch just outside the window down to a bush, then to the ground where it ran along through what was left of the summer grass.
It was then that Dulcie knew. Without question, she knew. She turned back to Giselle slowly. “I believe you,” she said. “You could not have done it. But I know who did.”
A large form emerged from the shadows at the back of the room. Dulcie gasped as Lawrence Bellamy moved toward her. Nick sensed someone else moving in the room and stepped into the doorway. Dulcie did not look at him, but Nick knew she wanted him to stop. He froze. Neither Lawrence nor Giselle knew Nick was there.
“You were telling the truth after all, Lawrence, weren’t you,” Dulcie said. The huge man stepped closer toward her. Dulcie’s heart thudded, but she held her ground. “You confessed, but no one believed you.”
He took another step toward her.
“You did push Oscar through the window. You were standing over him when Giselle and Xander came up the path. It was just as they said, just as Xander had drawn. And you were able to do this because you jumped out of the window as soon as Oscar fell. You’re so tall that it wasn’t nearly as much of a fall, and you were able to land on your feet so you had less chance of getting hurt.”
Lawrence closed the gap between them, and Nick raced into the room followed by Johnson and Edith. Nick was about to grab Lawrence when he stepped around Dulcie without touching her and walked up to the window. Everyone froze. Lawrence raised his long arm and pointed.
“There,” he said. “I landed right there.”
Johnson drove Dulcie’s car back into the city. Dulcie was shaken by the whole encounter. It had not gone according to plan. She sat in the back seat with Nick. “That was strange,” she said. “Tell me why you didn’t arrest Lawrence Bellamy?”
Johnson looked at Nick in the rear view mirror. “We managed to exonerate him after the first confession, assuming that it was false. We had what we thought was convincing evidence, Xander’s sketch, showing that he could not have done it, and he had a compelling reason for making a false confession in that he thought they were going to accuse Xander,” Nick said.
“Looks like we were wrong,” Johnson added.
“You weren’t exactly wrong,” Dulcie contradicted him. “Didn’t Giselle tamper with the evidence by drawing in that shadow?”
“Yes, but by then the case had been closed. That sketchbook was never used as evidence in the trial. True, we’ve opened another case to look into the matter, but a good lawyer would be able to shut us down. Evidence has been handled by too many people. Plus, you can’t convict someone of the same crime twice.”
“Chief is gonna kill us,” Johnson mumbled.
“Maybe not,” Nick said. “We kept everything pretty low key. This could stay under wraps, too. We’ll be in the doghouse for a while, but we’ve solved some pretty tough cases for him and made him look good. We’re allowed a mistake once in a while. No one in that household is going to talk about it – I’m pretty certain of that. Besides, I don’t think Lawrence Bellamy is exactly a threat to anyone.”
“Even though he’s huge! Have you ever seen anyone that big? I mean, seriously!” Johnson marveled. “Man, if I was that big, I could eat all day long,” he added wistfully.
Dulcie laughed. She was beginning to relax at last. “Adam, is that what all the walking has been about?”
“Well, sorta. I mean… dammit,” he swore softly. “Nick, you tell her.”
Nick groaned. “Fine. You see, it seems that our friend here made a bet with his wife. She challenged him to lose ten pounds in one month, or walk 300,000 steps.”
“That seems like a pretty good challenge. But I assume the stakes are high?”
Johnson just grunted from the front seat.
“You could say that,” Nick snickered. “If he wins, they go to Florida for a week to see the Red Sox at spring training.”
“Including VIP tickets!” Johnson chimed in.
“Including VIP tickets,” Nick repeated.
“And if he loses?” Dulcie asked.
“That’s the kicker. Then it will be… what was it Johnson?” Nick grinned at Dulcie.
They heard something from the front seat.
“What was that?” Nick said. “We couldn’t hear you!”
“La Dolce Vita Spa and Weight Loss Center!” Johnson bellowed. “And I’ll drive this car right off the road unless you promise right now never to tell a living soul!!”
Dulcie laughed the rest of the way home.
#
The Outsider Art exhibit continued according to plan. Dulcie felt exhausted, but she was pleased with the outcome. She had invited Xander and his family to attend of course, but they still weren’t sure whether they should. Or could.
On the day of the opening, Dulcie hurried around the main hall of the museum all afternoon checking on details. Pictures were hung, lights installed and aimed, sculptural pieces stood on platforms… yes, it was all in place. Dulcie walked slowly through the exhibit space, double and triple checking every detail, then ticking each off on a clipboard. She dropped her pen and as she reached down to pick it up noticed her shoes. She let out an exasperated moan.
“What’s up?” Rachel’s voice carried through the empty room.
Dulcie looked at her ruefully. “I do this every time, don’t I,” she nearly wailed.
Rachel giggled. “You mean, you forgot your outfit? Again?”
Dulcie nodded. “I don’t have time to get home and change, either.” She looked down at her shoes again. Scuffed, tan leather ballet flats. They would never do.
“Don’t worry. I can run to your place and get some clothes. Any thoughts, or shall I just put together something fabulous?”
“I doubt you can find that in my closet,” Dulcie said. “However, yes, I would love it if you could do that. My keys are in my purse. Bottom left drawer of the desk.”
“I know!” Rachel replied. “Won’t be a minute!”
Dulcie was more than a little nervous thinking of the sort of outfit Rachel would choose. Whatever it was, Dulcie would be stuck with it.
Half an hour before the opening was scheduled to begin, Dulcie saw a large shadow lurking in the foyer outside the front door. She knew of only one person that could possibly make a shadow of that size: Lawrence Bellamy. Dulcie glanced down at the dress Rachel had chosen for her. Made of a deep teal colored silk, it was fitted on the top and flared out to a full skirt on the bottom with snug short sleeves and a deeply scooped neck in the front and back. Rachel had paired it with plain black pumps. When Dulcie had seen the dress on the rack it reminded her of something from the 1960s. It was the one item in her closet that she was still trying to work up the courage to wear. She had no idea why she had bought it. Perhaps Rachel somehow knew this? Dulcie smoothed out her skirt and went to the door.
Lawrence stood with the others from his household: Giselle, Edith, and Xander. They looked much more relaxed, more like a family, than the last time Dulcie had seen them.
“Would you like to sneak in early?” she said as she opened the door.
“We were hoping we could,” Lawrence said. He held the door for the others as they entered. Dulcie made sure that it closed and locked behind them.
“Do you want the guided tour, or would you just like to look on your own?” she asked.
“On our own,” Edith barked. “You’ve got more than enough to do right now,” she added. The caterers were putting out snacks on several tables, and Dulcie kept glancing over to see if everything was in the right place.
“Yes, that would be best. I’ll find you in a few minutes,” she said.
Giselle had not spoken. After their last encounter, Dulcie would have been surprised if Giselle ever spoke to her again. After all, Dulcie had accused her of murdering Oscar Bernstein, and had police hiding, waiting to pounce on her and make an arrest. It wasn’t exactly endearing behavior on Dulcie’s part.
Dulcie took care of the final details for the opening checked her dress and make-up one last time in her office mirror, and went in to the exhibit. Xander and his father were standing in front of Xander’s work. The video was on a continuous loop and they could hear Dr. Raymond Armand’s voice droning on. Xander stared at it blankly. Edith stood in front of the bottle-cap and chewing-gum Statue of Liberty looking appalled. Giselle was at the opposite end of the gallery.
Dulcie quietly approached her. “Giselle,” she said as she came near, “I’m so sorry.”
Giselle did not look up. Dulcie thought that she would turn away, refusing to speak with her. After what seemed a very long time she said, “No, it is I who should be sorry.”
Giselle didn’t see the look of surprise on Dulcie’s face, but she knew it was there. “I knew what had happened. I did not know exactly how, or the details, or the fact that Lawrence was even guilty, but deep down I knew. That is why I altered the drawing. That was wrong. But it was the only way I could see that would bring him back to Xander.”
Now she did look up at Dulcie. Her eyes welled with tears, but she fought to keep them in check. “You see, I love him so much. Xander. And in a way, I have grown to love Lawrence, too. They are gentle souls. The way that they were treated would not be right for any person, but it was especially wrong for people like them. I had to watch over them.” Giselle looked over at a nearby bench and said, “Do you mind if we sit?”
Dulcie glanced at her dress, wondering if it would wrinkle, then decided that she didn’t care. “Of course,” she said.
Giselle slid onto the bench as Dulcie perched on the edge. Giselle continued,” My sister and I were very different. Technically we were twins, but fraternal of course. We do not look alike. My mother kept Gisa because she was the smaller, more needy child from the very beginning. The belief was that with her own mother, Gisa would become more strong. I was always more independent, so I was sent to live with my grandmother. She was a kind, loving woman. I had a good childhood.” Giselle stopped.
Dulcie nodded. She was close to her own brother. She understood.
“Gisa and I decided that we should not tell anyone that I was her sister. I came to America to live with her not because she wanted a housekeeper but because she wanted me there. She was frightened. Oscar Bernstein was a terrible man. I know that in some way, he caused our mother’s death, and he drove Gisa to hers as well. The more I saw Xander, my only remaining family, the more I felt that I had to protect him.”
Dulcie was overwhelmed by Giselle’s story, and swallowed hard in a futile attempt to eliminate the lump from her throat. “You did well,” she finally managed to say. “You did protect him. You and Lawrence have been his whole world. I know that he must, on some level, understand and appreciate that.”
Giselle sniffed, forcing herself to remain in control. “I do not need any of that, any appreciation from others,” she said. “I just need to know that he is safe and content.”
Content. It wasn’t the same as happy. Xander might not ever understand happiness but Dulcie was sure that he knew what it was like to feel content. She reached over and took Giselle’s hand, squeezing it briefly in her own. “Please come and see me again here. I think Xander would like it. And I would love to be able to talk with you more, too.”
Giselle blinked away tears and nodded. “I would like that as well,” she said softly.
Dulcie stood, leaving her to collect her thoughts. She joined Lawrence and Xander. Looking pointedly at Xander she said, “I hope you like this. You did a wonderful job. I think so many people will understand artists like you because of it.” Xander continued to stare blankly at the video screen.
Dulcie looked up at Lawrence. “Stay as long as you like,” she said. “I need to get back to things.”
“Of course,” he said quietly.
“Come back again,” she added. Lawrence smiled and put a protective hand on Xander’s shoulder.
Dulcie walked back to the main hall where the caterers were noisily completing their setup. One glanced at Dulcie and said, “Would you like some champagne?”
“You read my mind!” she answered.
He handed her a tall, cool glass. Sipping it, and trying not to sneeze from the bubbles, she glanced through the still-locked front doors. She saw Nick standing outside, waiting for the opening to begin. Dulcie caught his eye, then motioned to the guard nearby to let Nick in.
He squeezed quickly through the door and strode across the room. “Dulcie, you look amazing,” he said with sincerity.
“Well, I forgot my clothes to change into and sent Rachel to my house to get something, so she picked this out. I don’t think I would have chosen it, but…” she tried to stop herself from babbling. Looking down, she took a deep breath. Her eyes met his again. “Thank you!” she answered simply. “I should have said that in the first place!”
A waiter came by with a tray of champagne glasses. Nick happily took one. “Everything seems to be going well. Did you have any more difficulties with this exhibit?”
Dulcie nearly snorted her champagne. Difficulties would be an understatement for what they had gone through. “No, once we solved a murder, everything was smooth sailing!” she joked.
Speaking of which…” Nick began looking around them.
“Yes, they’re here,” Dulcie said. “I let them come in early. I thought it would be easier. They’re in the gallery.” She pointed behind him.
“I’ll leave them be. They’ve been through enough. Just let them enjoy,” he said. As he finished speaking, Lawrence and the others emerged from the new exhibit. They joined Dulcie and Nick.
“Well, it was certainly unorthodox, but you did help Lawrence, and all of us, in the end. So, my thanks for that,” Edith barked at Nick.
He wasn’t sure what to say. He certainly couldn’t condone murder, or openly support a murderer, but life wasn’t always quite that clear-cut.
Dulcie came to his rescue. “Did you enjoy the exhibit?” she said, very obviously changing the subject.
“Everything but that big Statue of Liberty thing!” Edith boomed. “That’s just an abomination!”
“Yes,” Dulcie said tactfully, “It’s difficult to define art sometimes. But I think the person who created it was, in his own way, an artist. Just as Xander is.”
The doors had opened and all of the invited guests for the opening began to make their way in. They were happy, talking loudly, lingering over the hors d’oeuvres and eventually meandering into the gallery to see the exhibit.
Lawrence Bellamy corralled his family and turned toward the door. “We must go,” he said to Dulcie. “Thank you for letting us come in early, and thank you for showing Xander’s gift so positively.”
Dulcie nodded. “It’s my pleasure,” she said simply. As they crossed the large room, Xander suddenly stopped. He turned back around. Dulcie watched him, curious as to what he would do. He walked back to her and for a brief moment Dulcie thought he might have even made eye contact. She wasn’t sure. His face now simply held his usual distant gaze. Yet, while he stood there, he lifted his hand, and turned it so that it opened, palm up. Then he slowly swiveled back around toward the door and walked away.
Giselle had called it espérance. Hope. For Xander, Dulcie knew that they had every reason to believe that this was true.
During the next hour Dulcie saw Dr. Raymond Armand come in. He was talking with two of the more wealthy museum patrons who looked attentive yet bored. She tried to hide a smirk but Nick caught her. He touched her elbow and guided her away from the others she had been talking with. “Am I correct in assuming that the good Dr. Armand has an interest in you?” It was a very direct question, and he held his breath.
“I’m not sure if the present tense is correct,” she replied, sipping her champagne. “I don’t think I’ve given any encouragement.”
“Is encouragement required in this case?” Nick asked innocently.
“Good point,” Dulcie murmured.
Raymond had spotted her and came over to join them. He nodded at Nick dismissively, then quickly took Dulcie’s hand and kissed it. “You look exquisite Dr. Chambers!” he said, without letting go of her hand. He had intended the use of her title as a way to put down Nick. Even though Raymond didn’t consider Dulcie’s doctorate to be as lofty as his, he was practically in medicine after all, they both had the degree, which was far better than this lowly policeman could hope for, he was sure.
Dulcie used it to her advantage. “You may remember meeting Dr. Nicholas Black?” She effectively removed her hand from Raymond’s by gesturing toward Nick.
“Doctor Black?” Raymond responded with eyebrows raised, unable to hide his disbelief.
“Yes,” Dulcie jumped in before Nick could say anything. “Like you and I, Nick has a doctorate as well. You earned it at Harvard, if I recall correctly Nick?” she asked innocently as she turned toward him.
Nick nodded, realizing where she was going with the conversation. “Dulcie, I don’t think I know where you want to graduate school,” he replied inquiringly. He actually knew full well where she had gone.
“Oxford. Yes, yes, I jumped the pond!” she said, pretending to cut off anything he was about to say. “And don’t give me any grief about American vs. British schools!” she teased. She turned to Raymond.
He knew what the next question would be and had no intention of divulging where he had earned his doctorate. He fought hard to control his ego and quickly said, “It was certainly interesting working on this project. I’m happy that it turned out so well. I’ll forward my bill for the consulting services next week.” He glanced at Nick. “Good to meet you,” Raymond added even though they had already met before.
Dulcie nodded and smiled. Nick raised his glass tactfully and murmured, “Pleasure.” Dr. Raymond Armand sauntered away, disgusted with both of them.
“Oh my,” said Dulcie. “I’m sure that was wrong, but he really needed to be stopped.”
Nick had turned his back to the room so that no one would see his expression. He didn’t like to laugh at someone else’s discomfort, but in this case he couldn’t help it. “Yes, that was pretty bad, Dulcie. But he did deserve it. At least this once. I have to say also, that’s the first time I’ve ever been called doctor! And hopefully the last.”
“Well, you’ve earned it, obviously…” she began
“I know, but it doesn’t fit anymore with who I am or what I want now,” he interjected.
Dulcie sipped her champagne thoughtfully. She had already been bold this evening. Why not keep going? “What do you want now, Nick?” she asked. She gazed across the room casually. Waiting.
Nick stared into his champagne glass, watching the bubbles float to the surface. What had she just said? Okay, that was stupid. He knew what she had said. What did she mean? He glanced up at her. A soft smile had spread across her lips. His breath caught in his throat.
“What I want…” he began, then stopped. He took another sip of champagne. It gave him more courage. “What I want is to have dinner later this evening with a beautiful and brilliant woman who has dark hair and is wearing a green dress.” He held his breath.
Dulcie was unprepared for the massive flush of color that washed over her. She wanted to put the chilly champagne glass against her cheeks to cool them down. She hoped that it wasn’t too obvious. “Oh dear,” she said looking down at herself. “This isn’t green, it’s teal. I guess I’m immediately out of contention then.”
“Did I say a green dress? I meant a teal dress,” he managed to reply.
Dulcie slowly leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “I’d love to!” Then she stepped away and moved among the groups of chattering people.
Nick found himself exhaling very, very slowly as he forced himself to stay where he was and not follow her like a puppy. But he wasn’t as successful at removing the goofy smile that was stuck on his face for the rest of the evening.