“It’s going to be fine,” he said, pulling me into his arms in a comforting embrace and planting a quick kiss on my hair. “They’re going to love you. Seriously.”
I looked up at him. “How do you know that?”
Offering me one of those cocky smiles I knew well, he squeezed me. “Because I do.” He glanced at his watch. “Come on, we have to get out of here. My grandmother’s going to have my head.”
“And mine,” I added as I locked the door to my apartment and followed him to the elevator. And, as he glanced over his shoulder and held out his hand to pull me in toward him, I felt my heart flip with love in my chest. If he said this was going to be all right, then it would be. Because with him, it always was.
After settling into the passenger seat, we drove through the city and crossed the Golden Gate Bridge into Marin County. When I’d first arrived in San Francisco, I made a special trip to Marin County to ogle the stately mansions and well-manicured lawns. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be going to a garden party at one of the mansions. Sometimes, life could be so wonderfully unpredictable.
Trace stopped in front of a pair of wrought iron gates and pushed the buttons on a keypad. The gates opened to a circular brick paved driveway with a sparkling fountain in the middle of a large and colorful flowerbed. The house Trace grew up in was humungous and looked like a French château with its steeply sloping roof, dormer windows, and stone exterior. He jumped out of the car, opened the passenger door, and helped me out.
“I bet you had some fun games of hide and seek,” I said as we walked up the steps that led to a large porch and an ornately carved wooden door.
He laughed and opened the door. I stepped inside and gaped. Polished marble floors and a graceful banister that curved up toward a soaring second floor greeted me. The foyer was bigger than my whole apartment. As I gazed at all the paintings, bronze sculptures, and tapestries, I heard Trace say, “Sorry we’re late, Grandma.” I swallowed and turned toward the voices. An attractive older woman with light brown hair pulled into a tight chignon smiled at me.
“Is this Cierra?” she asked as she moved toward me.
Trace grasped my hand. “It is.”
I extended my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Linder. Trace speaks so highly of you.”
“He better, and please call me Lucille,” she said as she took my hand. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet the woman who would captured my grandson’s heart.” She smiled and the lines around her eyes and mouth crinkled.
I felt my face heat and Trace tightened his grip on my hand. “Is Mom here?”
Mrs. Linder nodded. “She’s out back with the others. Come on.” We followed her out to a spacious stone patio that had sweeping views of the ocean. To the right of the patio I could see a garden full of redwoods and blooming wisteria trees in lavender blue.
“It’s so beautiful here,” I whispered to Trace.
Strewn over the lawn were tables, chairs, and pastel yellow umbrellas. Vases of pale pink and deep fuchsia roses decorated the white linen draped tables and pretty gold-rimmed china and crystal champagne flutes adorned each place.
“Let’s get a drink,” Trace said as he led me into a large tent.
Inside, two crystal chandeliers brightened the room that held a large bar and several tall tables. A few women in large hats stood at the tables, chatting, drinking, and nibbling on hors d’oeuvres that a waiter passed around.
“Mom,” Trace said as we approached the bar.
A woman with dark brown hair turned around and smiled broadly before pulling him into a long embrace. Her eyes darted to me then back to him.
He pulled me forward. “This is Cierra, Mom.”
Her gaze ran over me quickly and she nodded her head. “Nice to meet you.”
She wasn’t as friendly as his grandmother, but she didn’t have daggers in her eyes, so I figured that was a plus. “I’m very happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Trace.”
She gave me a small smile then diverted her attention back to Trace. As they chatted, I looked around the room and noticed the woman who had been with Trace at the Vibra launch. The dainty peach lace dress she wore looked fabulous on her and probably cost more than I made in a month. Her eyes darted to Trace before settling on me. Wanting to be congenial, I smiled at her, and the corners of her mouth turned up exposing straight white teeth.
As if on cue, Trace’s mother turned toward her and flashed a toothy grin. “Victoria. How nice to see you. Come over here and say hi to Trace.”
An acrid taste filled my mouth, and I stood blinking as I watched the woman strut across the floor as though she were a fashion model on the runway.
“Carolyn,” she gushed as she air-kissed Trace’s mother. Then she slid up next to Trace and ran her slender hand up his arm. “How are you? It’s been too long.” She pecked him on the cheek.
“Isn’t it nice that Victoria could come today?” Carolyn asked Trace.
“Yeah. Sure.” He glanced over at me and extended his arm, his hand reaching for me. I placed my hand in his and he tugged me close to him. “Victoria, I want you to meet my girlfriend, Cierra.”
My insides melted and I had the strange urge to kiss him madly in front of all the fashionable people at the party, but I didn’t think that would endear me too much to his mother, so I just smiled politely.
