Her lip trembled. “I can change.”
“I sincerely hope you can.”
She looked so tragic that he pressed a comforting hand to her shoulder. It was the least he could do. She clung to his hand with both of hers until he pulled away.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to depart for the Longfellow gala. There’s another loose end I need to tie up.”
Alma perked up. “A proposal?”
“Something like that,” he murmured. He checked his pocket watch and suppressed a curse. Dealing with the family had taken longer than he expected, and he was already late. “Good night, Mother.”
By the time he’d gathered his belongings, Alma was already hunched over a piece of paper, muttering ideas about a “grand wedding.”
He slid into his carriage with a sigh of relief. One challenge down, one to go. As the ornate houses of Minor Avenue slid past his window, he sent a wish soaring to the stars above.
He would need all the help he could get.
CHAPTER23
Winnie sipped a flute of champagne and admired the breathtaking transformation of Longfellow House. The ballroom resembled an autumn meadow, with strands of flowers in rich shades of maroon, red, orange and yellow hanging from the rafters. The guests, men and women from the community who supported the cause, were bedecked in fine gowns and meticulous evening attire.
Art pieces for auction, including a painting of the night sky by Rhoda, rested on podiums around the room. A caricature artist, a juggler, and a magician circulated through the crowd, eliciting peals of laughter and cries of delight. A dance band played ragtime pieces, and even those who did not dance tapped their feet in time to the dynamic beat.
“Della and Judith outdid themselves, didn’t they?” Olive asked beside her in an awed whisper.
“They certainly did.” Winnie’s gaze roved over her friend, swathed in a pale-yellow chiffon evening gown with sheer, puffed sleeves. “Have I mentioned how lovely you look tonight?”
“You have.” Olive gave her a chiding look. “Shall I return the favor again?”
Their visit earlier that week to Carlisle’s famous dress department had been a tremendous success, and Rhoda was proclaimed a fashion wizard. She had been entirely in her element, flipping through fabric swatches and sending attendants running back and forth with sample gowns for the girls to try on. Winnie had been sure it would take ages to find a match, but Rhoda achieved it in three tries.
When the cobalt blue, silk gown with a cream lace overlay slid into place and swished gently at Winnie’s feet, she hadn’t needed a mirror to know it had been made for her. Olive and Clem had equal success. It didn’t go unnoticed that Clem’s features softened as she stroked the delicate skirts of her rose-pink silk with metallic thread embroidery at the bodice; or how Olive stood a little straighter and had less trouble making eye contact with those around her. There was undeniable power in wearing the perfect dress, and Rhoda had unearthed that power with a discerning eye.
“I’m not fishing for compliments, I promise. I just…forgot.”
“You should dance. It will take your mind off…people.”
“Is my preoccupation so obvious?”
“Only to me.”
She sighed. “If only there were someone I wanted to dance with.”
Olive tapped her chin with one finger and perused the room. “What about Mrs. Thurston’s brother? He’s jovial.”
“Too short.”
“Possibly Mr. Robert Irving? He has supported the Society since day one.”
Winnie considered the handsome Mr. Irving. “The high timbre of his voice bothers me.”
“Mr. Samuel Bradley, the owner of the clock emporium?”
“I’m not partial to blond men.”
Olive patiently made a few more suggestions, all of which Winnie rejected. She was wondering at her pickiness when it hit her. She had been subconsciously comparing every man in the room to Mack, and they had all fallen short.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes, and she focused unduly on straightening her elbow-length sleeves trimmed with lace. She would rather trip on a runaway pickle than cry in front of strangers. On a night like this, Mack should be the farthest thing from her mind. The Society had converted many Seattleites to the cause, and the gala had already raised a lot of money for future ventures. Not to mention she’d received word that morning that the money from John’s will was on the way. Her financial troubles were over, she had friends who supported her, and a fresh resume was ready to send out on Monday.
