“Love this cake. Howard, grab your nine iron. We’ll shoot a few rounds.” Frank took a bite of the slice on his plate. “Edible golf? I’ve died and gone to heaven.” The guests rewarded his quip with a hearty laugh.
Janice instructed everyone to grab a plate, and Sam made his way around the room to head outside.
Someone tugged on his sleeve. “Sam.” Chloe looked at him with trust and confidence. “Janice said she’d pay us tonight. But should I just leave and get it next week?”
“Let’s ask her. If she said she’d pay today, then make her do it.”
Chloe made a face like You sure? then followed him inside. “I’ll ask her, all right? Since you’re keeping your stake in Haven’s a secret.”
“For now, until I start working there.”
“Here I go…” Chloe started across the grand room with high ceilings and expensive art on the wall. “Janice,” she said. “We’re off but I wondered if you wanted to pay us tonight or?—”
“Oh, darling, of course, but aren’t you staying?” Janice withdrew an envelope from a nearby drawer.
“Staying?” Chloe said with an over-the-shoulder look at Sam.
“For the party?” Janice glanced at Meredith. “Didn’t you tell your daughter to stay?”
“Thank you, but I can’t.” Chloe regarded her mother and then Sam. “I’m Cinderella, not dressed for the ball.”
“Well, then I’m your fairy godmother.” Janice grabbed Chloe by the hand and even if she tried to wrestle her to the ground, Chloe wasn’t getting free of that grip. “I’ve a million gowns. What size are you? I have a four and sixes from my WW days, but that ship has sailed,” she whispered conspiratorially.
Chloe leaned toward Sam as Janice led her toward the broad staircase. “If I’m not back in fifteen, rescue me.”
Rescue you? Anytime, Chloe, anywhere.
Janice wasn’t lying—she had a dressing room full of cocktail dresses and gowns. From the outside, the Hardy bungalow looked like a small, old-time family home with three beds and a bath, but no, this place never ended. Five bedrooms at least, five bathrooms, a to-die-for gourmet kitchen, and a media room that could be classified as a small theater.
“Try this one. I only wore it once and then somehow, who knows, I gained ten pounds.”
“That usually comes from someone adding butter to your food when you aren’t looking.” Chloe accepted the ice-blue organza gown with the halter neck and beaded embellishments at the waist. “Janice, this is too much. Are you sure?”
She’d gone to some fancy balls and banquets in Paris with Jean-Marc. Her in-laws were connected to the French nobility, after all, but she’d rented gowns for those occasions. What would a pastry chef who worked elbows deep in dough do with a closetful of designer gowns? Though she did have a few nicer dresses she’d bought at resale and consignment shops to wear when Jean-Marc took her to dinner for their anniversary or her birthday.
“I think these shoes will work.” Janice set a pair of red-soled Louboutin heels at Chloe’s feet. “I’ll fetch my stylist. She’ll fix your hair and makeup.” Janice paused at the door. “If you want, that is. Am I pushing you? It’s just, well, Sam seems more relaxed when you’re around and I remember how he was with you when you were teens.”
“We’re just friends, Janice.”
“Right, of course, but shall I get her? My stylist?”
Chloe looked at her image in the mirror and saw the spark of life she’d felt in recent days reflected back at her. No didn’t seem like an option.
“Send her up. I need all the help I can get.”
“Chloe.” Janice hesitated at the door. “About Sam—speak well of his father, would you?”
“Janice, really, this is none of my business. It’s between you and Frank and Sam. All I know about your relationship with Frank back then is that you were his secretary before my mom. If your invitation comes with conditions, then I should just go home.”
“It doesn’t. You’ll look stunning in that gown. Please stay. But Chloe, there are lots of details Sam doesn’t know either.” Janice headed out of the room.
While she waited for the stylist, Chloe tucked Janice’s payment into her purse then texted Laura Kate to take the van back to the bakery and lock up everything. Thank you and see you in the morning!
Twenty minutes later, Chloe was tucked and zipped into the ice-blue organza confection with a crossover neckline that bared her shoulders and a good deal of her back. A large burn on her forearm, a regular occurrence for someone continually reaching into hot ovens, made her self-conscious. She stood in front of the mirror, one hand over the angry welt in an attempt to hide it.
“Here.” Francie, the stylist, daubed on some concealer and rubbed gently. “It barely shows.”
Francie gave her a sophisticated makeover with subtle spring colors. Not much could be done with her pixie cut, but instead of Chloe’s usual spiky do, Francie brushed her hair flat and managed to make her look sleek and sophisticated. Chloe had one of her sparkly hair clips in her purse that she swapped out for the beaded one. That made the finishing touch.
