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“I think her marriage proposal on the Jumbotron at AT&T Stadium was a pretty good indicator.” He slapped him on the back. “Which means you’re on third base and all you have to do is run home.”
Since Deacon wasn’t coming into work until later, Nash headed to his office to see if any results had come back from the independent survey they’d commissioned. The response hadn’t been as great as the response from the French Kiss survey, but the results that had come back confirmed what Eden had told Nash. Wanting to get Samuel’s opinion, he headed to the design studio.
He found Samuel in his office, but he wasn’t alone. Deirdre Beaumont was there, and whatever they were talking about, Samuel didn’t look like he was enjoying it. His hair was standing on end as if he’d been running his fingers through it. His tie was crooked. And he had murder in his eyes as Deirdre pointed at the list in her hand.
“The waitstaff uniforms are way too boring,” she said. “They need some pizzazz. Maybe some purple sequins along the edge of their skirts. Or feathers. Feathers would be fun. And I want to change the flower arrangements on the tables. I want something a little more dramatic.”
“I am not a florist,” Samuel muttered between his teeth.
“No, but you’re a designer. And a designer should be able to design anything—even flower arrangements. Or aren’t you talented enough for that?”
The look on Samuel’s face said he was seconds away from strangling Deirdre right where she stood. Figuring Olivia wouldn’t be too happy if Nash stood by and allowed her mother to be killed, he stepped into the office.
“How’s the party planning going?”
Deirdre sent Samuel a hard look. “Fine. If I could get certain people to do their job.”
“My job is to design lingerie, not costumes and flower arrangements for a ridiculous party,” Samuel said.
“So that’s why you never attended parties at the house. You think they’re ridiculous.” She lifted an eyebrow. “And here I thought it was because you hated me.”
“You know exactly why I never attended parties at your house, Mrs. Beaumont.”
Deirdre’s smile evaporated. “I suppose I do.” She carefully folded her list and placed it in the front pocket of her purse. “Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a million and one things to get done before next Saturday.” She turned to Nash. “I’m happy to say that Grayson has decided to accept his role as Romeo. He called me last night to see if I could find a Juliet outfit for his date.”
Nash was surprised by the news. Grayson had been complaining about his costume ever since the fitting. And Nash knew nothing about a date.
“Who is he bringing?” he asked.
“He didn’t say. No doubt it will be one of the vapid supermodels you men seem to salivate over.” She glanced at Samuel. “Some men, that is.” She looked back at Nash. “Are you bringing a date? If so, I’d be more than happy to pick out a costume for her. I’m thinking a French Kiss purple senorita costume would go perfectly with your Lothario.”
With her dark hair, Eden would look amazing in a purple senorita costume. Unfortunately, Nash was too terrified to make that kind of commitment. He and Eden were running partners and that was it.
“No,” he said. “I’m not bringing anyone.”
”Well, I’m sure the women attending will be glad to see that.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Try not to let Samuel’s grumpy disposition rub off on you.”
Once Deirdre was gone, Nash turned to Samuel. He didn’t look grumpy as much as the victim of a hurricane. Witnessing Samuel’s uncharacteristic dishevelment, Nash had to agree that something was bothering the man. He just wasn’t so sure that it had to do with the UPS guy. At the moment, it seemed to be centered on Deirdre Beaumont.
“That woman is going to be the death of me,” Samuel said as he flopped down in his chair.
Nash took the chair across from him. “She is a character. I would’ve loved to see what she was like when she was younger.”
“A lot less annoying.”
“So how long have you known her?”
“For over twenty years. I was the one who introduced her to Michael.”
The information surprised Nash. “So you knew her first?”
Samuel nodded and then stared off into space as if conjuring up memories. “We were both waiting for the trolley. It was raining like it can only rain in San Francisco, and Deirdre had forgotten her umbrella. So being the gentleman my mother taught me to be, I offered to share mine. Little did I know the kind of hell the gentlemanly gesture would put me through.”
Suddenly, Nash wondered if Samuel was just talking about party planning. There was a look in his eyes that could only be described as regret and a deep sadness. And Nash knew both emotions well. He had lived with them for much too long not to. Although lately, the emotions had been muted by a stronger one. Happiness. Looking at Samuel, he realized that maybe Olivia was right. Maybe everyone needed a companion—even if it was just a running partner. Or the UPS guy.
“Is everything okay, Samuel?” he asked. “If there’s something you’d like to talk about…”
Samuel shook himself out of his daydream and looked at Nash. “I’m fine, Mr. Beaumont. And I’ll be even better when this Lover’s Ball is over.” He straightened his tie and smoothed back his hair before cupping his hands on the desk. “So what brings you to the design studio? And please don’t tell me it has to do with flower arrangements or costumes.”
