Page 33 of Touch of Class

“Look at The Boss,” Robin shouted.

“Pure lux.” Sawyer gave a wolf whistle.

“Look at that figure, all legs and hips.” Robin nudged Daphne’s arm as if to make sure she noticed.

Newsflash: She had.

It was impossible not to notice a woman like Gillian. Whether she was dressed to inspire confidence in her suits or flashing something softer and more dangerous like tonight, she commanded the attention of every room she entered. Daphne didn’t have to like her to admit she generally cut an imposing and alluring figure.

The most appealing part of this moment, though, wasn’t her figure or her costume, or even the way she carried herself with confidence, though when you put them all together, it was hard to deny why everyone seemed immediately taken with Gillian. No, Daphne had grown nearly immune to her perfect poise. What struck her most tonight was the hint of something real, something genuine. Ironic that on a night when so many wore suits and masks to hide their true identities, Gillian had instead chosen to show up as a more her version of herself, and the hint of playfulness injected into the competency appeal made it even harder to look away.

As if to make the point even sharper, Gillian spotted Sawyer and her smile spread. She lifted her bow and effortlessly nocked an arrow. “Who needs a woodsman when you have an archer?”

Sawyer held up their fur-padded palms in surrender. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing. I’m a mere lapdog to your top-boss energy.”

“You’re a puppy. Heel. Stay.” Gillian laughed, and seemed like she might say more, but the joke died on her lips when she noticed Daphne standing beside them. Her smile faltered from genuine to practiced, and she clearly took a deep, slow breath as if centering herself.

Daphne suffered a pang of sadness at the realization she’d been the one to cause her guard to go up. She would’ve much rather spent the evening hanging out with the woman Sawyer and Robin saw, even if she wasn’t ready to believe that woman was real. Tonight was a night for illusions, and Gillian had created a compelling one.

“Hi, Daphne. I didn’t know you were coming.”

Daphne glanced to Robin awkwardly, who just smiled and shrugged. “Did I forget to mention that?”

Gillian shook her head. “You must have.”

“If there’s not enough room for me …” Daphne’s chest tightened, and she couldn’t quite finish the statement. She didn’t want to stay somewhere she wasn’t welcome, but she also didn’t want to leave an event she’d looked forward to.

“Of course there’s room,” Sawyer said gracefully. “We brought Robin’s car to park next to Gillian’s. Two cars, two businesses, same mission to spread the good word to parents while sugaring up their kids. Which, when you think about it, will drive said parents crazy enough to need therapy and quiet cuddling. It’s a good circle for drumming up new clients.”

Daphne managed a smile at the logic, but her eyes stayed on Gillian, trying to gauge her reaction as she shifted from one foot to the other.

“Sure, of course. The more the merrier,” she finally said with more resignation than warmth, but before Daphne could check her sincerity, Gillian pivoted toward Robin, all business once again. “I got us registered and left flyers at the entry, but I imagine we’ll get the most interaction as families make their rounds. My trunk is also full with community resource packets and fruit snacks.”

“You didn’t.” Robin sounded accusatory.

“What? I got the organic ones, 100% fruit juice.”

“I told you we couldn’t trust her to be in charge of the treats,” Robin said to Sawyer. “Last year she handed out whole-grain pretzels. The year before that it was yogurt-covered raisins.”

“Kids like fruit snacks,” Gillian defended weakly.

“In their lunch boxes or in place of carrot sticks, but not for Halloween. Halloween is for candy, sugar comas, and debauchery.”

“Debauchery?” Gillian scoffed. “They’re kindergartners.”

“Kid debauchery is different, but it exists. Weren’t you ever a child?”

“She was not,” Daphne interjected. “I can verify.”

Robin turned to her. “I take back everything I said about how much fun she is.”

Gillian’s eyebrows shot up. “You were talking about how fun I am?”

“They were.” Daphne blushed slightly. “Though you’ve undercut their arguments a bit. Raisins?”

“I didn’t bring raisins this year. I brought fruit snacks. What happened to ‘sometimes different is a good thing’?”

Daphne’s breath caught as her own words came back to her. Only they shouldn’t have from this woman.