“Oh good. I scheduled Barb to come do our hair and make-up while Kim does our nails.”
“Sure, sounds good.”
The gala was scheduled for a Sunday night, which meant I had to leave Sam’s house earlier than usual in order to get ready and attend the event.
“What is this thing you’re attending?” she asked, her fingers absently stroking my stomach Sunday morning.
“It’s a horrifically dry fundraising gala for the local symphony,” I explained. “We go every year because the company is a corporate sponsor. It’s a typical event – cocktail reception followed by a mediocre dinner, boring speeches, and dancing.”
Sam fake shuddered. “Better you than me.”
But as I got ready for the event, I wished that I’d asked Sam to go with me. Even if it wasn’t her scene, that’s what you did when you were dating someone seriously, you attended events with each other even if you didn’t want to.
I purchased a custom made dress from my favorite designer for the event. It was a beautiful shade of pink, strapless with a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt with a high slit on one side. Sexy but sophisticated. After the nail technician painted my fingernails and toenails the exact same shade pink as my dress, I turned myself over to Barb, our family’s longtime hair and makeup person. Barb fixed my long blonde hair in loose curls, then gave me subtle make-up that was brought out by the pink of my dress.
When I came downstairs to meet my parents, I was surprised to see a strange guy there, dressed in a tuxedo. He was older than me, tall and slim, and not bad looking with his dark hair threaded through with gray and a perfectly square chin with one of those indents in the center. I’d totally be attracted to him if I wasn’t in love with someone else.
“Olivia? Hi, I’m James. You look beautiful.”
He reached out and I gave him my hand automatically. When our skin touched I felt nothing.
“Oh good, you two have met. I knew you’d get along well.”
My gaze bounced between my parents. Dad was looking anywhere but at me, telling me that he knew about this little plan and chose not to warn me. Coward.
“Why is James here exactly, Mother?” I pinned her with a hard look.
“Don’t be rude Olivia. James is your escort for tonight.”
“And glad to be,” he added gallantly, trying to figure out the tension between us.
I turned to him. “I’m sorry my mother did this, James. You seem like a nice guy, but I have a girlfriend,” I said, putting a subtle emphasis on the last word.
His eyes bounced to my mother and back. “I wasn’t aware of that. Your mother gave me the impression you were single and open to a blind date.”
“She was wrong,” I said, softening my tone. It wasn’t this man’s fault that my mother had put us both in an uncomfortable situation.
“I didn’t think you were serious about that girl,” my mother piped up. “At least not serious enough to invite to the gala.”
“I told you that a gala wasn’t her kind of scene,” I reminded her through clenched teeth.
Mother shrugged. “Oh well, James is here now, so you can go as friends. I’m sure you’ll have a great time together, you have a lot in common.”
I wasn’t sure if she was trying to avoid a bigger scene or she was hoping if we spent enough time together I’d fall in love with James. I had a feeling it was the latter.
“I’m game to go as friends,” James said, giving me a charming smile. “I got the tuxedo dry cleaned for this.”
I sighed, then mustered a polite smile. At least he was a good sport about all this.
“Fine, let’s get going, shall we?”
The four of us got into the limo my parents had rented for the evening, James and me on one side, my parents on the other. My mother spent the entire trip sharing everything she knew about James.
For his part, he had a good sense of humor about it.
“Your mother knows more about me than my own does,” he whispered in my ear at one point, earning a smile from me.
We arrived at the event location, sitting in a long line of limousines as Seattle’s elite took their turn walking on the red carpet. I stared out the window as we inched our way up to the front. I saw the CEO of Phoenix Software, Madison Phoenix,walk the carpet with her wife Camille, a writer with a pink streak in her hair. I’d only met them a couple of times, but the sight of the two of them made me smile. I was betting Sam would get along great with Camille. The former barista was a hoot – and totally down to Earth.
