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“Why?” he said. “It’s just a lot of people dressed up and showing off.”
A lot of people who hired people like her. No, correction. Who hired cleaning ladies. They wouldn’t let her in the door, let alone hire her, if they knew her story.
“What you should really worry about is whether the chicken will be any good.” His hand molded to the small of her back. The warmth of his touch spread up her spine, giving her courage. It was only for a few hours. She could do this.
The couple they saw were waiting for the elevator when they entered the lobby. It took less than ten seconds for Patience’s confidence to flag. The same amount of time it took for the husband to smile and check out her legs. She wished Stuart’s hand was still on her back. Then she could pretend he was with her by choice, and, by extension, the entire room would think so too. Instead, his fingers barely brushed her as they boarded the elevator.
Ethyl Calloway greeted them at the ballroom door. She was a tall, handsome woman who, like their companion on the elevator, was decorated with expensive jewelry. “Stuart! It’s so good to see you.” She kissed the air by his cheek. “How is Anastasia doing?”
“Much better,” Stuart replied. “Already chomping at the bit to get back to her volunteer schedule. We had to practically tie her to the bed to keep her in the hospital.”
“Well, at her age, it’s best she not push herself too soon.”
Her age? Ethyl wasn’t much younger. The way the corner of Stuart’s mouth was fighting not to smile, he was thinking the same thing. “Knowing Ana, she’ll recover so fast she’ll make the rest of us look lazy,” Patience said.
Ethyl looked over as though she was noticing her for the first time. “Hello—Patty, isn’t it?”
“Patience.”
“Right. Ana mentioned she gave you a ticket. I’m glad you could make it. You’ll be accepting Ana’s award for her, right?” The older woman turned her attention back to Stuart. Actually, she physically turned toward Stuart and, in doing so, turned her back to Patience. Not on purpose, she told herself. Even so, she found herself blocked from the conversation. While Stuart nodded and went over details, she stood awkwardly to the side, smiling at the people who glanced in her direction.
“Lucky us,” Stuart said, once Ethyl freed him from her attentions. “We’re sitting at the front table.”
“What does that mean?” From his sarcasm, she guessed not anything good.
“We get our rubber chicken first.”
“Oh.”
“And we get to sit with Ethyl. Take good notes. Ana’s going to want a blow-by-blow recap.” He pointed across the crowd to a congregation in the corner. “Looks like the bar is over there. I’ll buy you drink.”
They wound their way through the crowd, a difficult task as every ten feet some acquaintance of Ana’s stopped them to ask for a medical update. After one very familiar-looking man inquired, she touched Stuart’s arm. “Was that...?”
“The mayor?” He nodded.
Yep, she was out of her league. Please don’t let me do something stupid
“Wine?” Stuart asked when they finally reached the front of the bar line.
Patience shook her head. “Sparkling water, please.” Alcohol would go straight to her head, and she needed to keep her senses as sharp as possible. Another man walked by and checked out her legs. She gave the hemline a tug, on the off chance she could cover another quarter inch or so.
“You look fine.” Stuart’s breath was gentler than the breeze as he bent close and whispered in her ear. “Just a bunch of people...”
“Dressed up and showing off.” She repeated his lesson for his benefit. Certainly her insides weren’t listening. Her skin crawled, positive she was being evaluated by every person in the room and coming up short. What was that phrase about putting lipstick on a pig?
How she envied Stuart and the effortlessness with which he fit into his world. “I bet you go to a lot of these kinds of parties,” she said to him.
“Only when I absolutely have to. Crowds and parties aren’t really my thing.”
“Really? But you look so at home.” Everyone did, except for her.
“I’ll tell you a secret.” He leaned in close again. Damn, if he didn’t smell better than the flower arrangements. “It helps if you think of all this as one big game,” he said.
Distracted by the way his lips moved when he whispered, Patience nearly missed what Stuart said. “A game?”
“One big contest. Society’s version of who’s the biggest. Everyone’s trying to prove they’re better than the other.”
