“I’ll try to make an appearance toward the end of the party. If I don’t,tell Monique she’s free to come visit before she goes home.”
Jamie stepped away. Etta continued to sign and stamp paperwork as if Jamie had never entered the room.She works so hard now.Etta had always worked hard, but she still took off Sundays. The first couple of times she worked full weekends, Jamie didn’t think much of it. Yet this had been going on for at least two months.
This all started after…After she lost her business partner.
Who knewthatwoman did so much work after all?
Jamie didn’t have time to think about her girlfriend’s workload, however. She had a party to host downstairs, and whether guests were on time or fashionably late, she must be there. So she kissed her girlfriend on the forehead and went downstairs, where she caught sight of a limousine pulling up in the driveway.
“Ms. Monique Grant,” Harris announced the moment Jamie reached the door. “Should I have her driver park somewhere else?”
“No, that’s not necessary. She’s the guest of honor.”
“Very well.”
Jamie remembered to smile when Monique emerged from the back of her limo, wearing a crimson A-line dress that bloomed right above her waistline. Her flat red shoes clacked on the bricks leading up to the door, and her black purse, which was so stylishly in season, glittered in the rare February sunlight. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun that coiled on top of her head and speckled with a net of rubies.
She was always so much nicer to look at than Jamie. Monique may have been a woman of humble origins like Jamie, but she matched the airs and aesthetic of the many old-money families dotting the landscape.Suppose that makes her a prime candidate to marry into one of those old-money families.
“Hey!” Jamie called, meeting Monique halfway down the front steps. “You’re early!”
“I know. I am terrible. Is it a problem?” Monique tipped up her sunglasses. “I was already in the area for something else, and didn’t see the point in going back into town just to come up here again.”
“No problem at all. Nobody else is here yet, though.”
Monique grinned. “They’ll be here in about an hour.”
“The party is supposed to start in half an hour.”
“Yes, and they’ll be very generous by showing up in an hour.”
Jamie turned, leading her into the main hall. Beatrice took Monique’s coat she had slung over her shoulder, but otherwise, they were left alone as they meandered into the salon.
“You don’t have problems getting people to show up to your parties.”
“That’s because everyone has sex at my parties. Of course they’re on time.” Monique snorted. “Or early, if you know what I mean.”
Jamie blushed. Monique looked like the demure daughter of a well-to-do family, but she was anything but. The demureness came from her role as a lifestyle submissive, but everything else? Monique was one of the shrewdest businesswomen Jamie knew. She owned and operated a Manoir high in the mountains that catered to the kinky tastes of the region’s elite.It’s a BDSM brothel. We all know it.Somehow, Madam Monique had skirted legalities by finding all sorts of ridiculous loopholes in the local laws. It also helped that she was now engaged to one of the coast’s wealthiest women and slated to marry her by the end of the month.Here I am, throwing her bridal shower.
They sat and talked over cucumber sandwiches and sparkling cider. What was going on in their lives? How were the wedding preparations? Had Jamie received her bridesmaid’s dress yet? Oh, were the alterations to her liking? How was Etta doing? Working at home on a Sunday? That was so like her.
Jamie didn’t realize that forty-five minutes had gone by before the first guest arrived. She was ready to play the part of a sophisticated hostess assome of the area’s poshest came up her stairs. Instead, she got Natasha, Etta’s assistant and hardly a “posh” woman.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” She clamored up the steps, almost out of breath since running from her cab. “Did I miss anything? Oh, I’m putting you out so badly!”
Jamie shrugged. “Only Monique is here so far. She informed me that everyone else will probably be hours late.”
“Huh? That’s messed up.”
A breeze tickled Jamie’s bare arms, and she was prompted to lead Natasha into the house. “That’s the rich, I suppose.”
Natasha snorted. “They’re probably playing tennis or something.”
Jamie had resigned herself to the fate of the eternally waiting hostess by the time the first actual guests arrived.I barely know these women. Most of them were Monique’s friends, including other bridesmaids. Yet there were friends and other prominent women from the area who Jamie would be remiss to not include on this intimate guest list.Not that I’m happy about having strangers in my home… that I have to entertain.One thing if Etta invited a business friend and they brought spouses or siblings. This was different.
Jamie had to work her ass off to pretend to be one of them.
She wasn’t delusional. She knew she wasn’t as refined as them, nor had they fully accepted her into their fold. The business world accepted Etta, even though she grew up dirt poor, because she was successful. As far as the women were concerned, Jamie was still a nobody.Don’t remind me.
