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We were both active on the Manhattan social scene, but we ran in very different circles. We didn’t call each other just to chitchat.
“I’m well, thank you. How are you?”
“Wonderful. I heard you were at the Valhalla Club’s gala over the weekend. I was quite upset about missing it, but poor Balenciaga was having stomach issues and we had to rush him to the vet.”
Balenciaga was one of Buffy’s five prized Malteses, along with Prada, Givenchy, Chanel, and Dior. Each dog only wore clothing by the designer corresponding to their name. There’d been a whole spread about them inMode de Vietwo years ago.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said politely. “I hope Balenciaga’s feeling better.”
“Thank you. He’s doing much better now.” I heard the clatter of china in the background before Buffy spoke again. “While I can discuss my precious babies all day, I must admit, I have an ulterior motive for calling.”
I’d figured as much. People like Buffy didn’t contact you out of the blue unless you could do something for them.
“As you may know, I’m the chairwoman of the Legacy Ball committee this year. I’m in charge of the overall production, including choosing the host or hostess and guiding them through the planning process.”
My pulse spiked at the mention of the ball.
“Arabella Creightonwasthe hostess,” Buffy said. “But unfortunately, she had to resign from her position due to unforeseen circumstances.”
Unforeseen circumstanceswas an understatement. Arabella’s husband had been charged with embezzlement and corporate fraud over the weekend. Photos of the FBI marching him out of his Park Avenue townhouse in his pajamas had been splashed across all the front pages since Saturday.
Three days.
Buffy and the committee worked fast. The last thing they wanted was for any whiff of a scandal to taint the ball on their watch.
“As you can imagine, we’ve been frantic, considering the ball is only six months away. The event planning process requiresextensivepreparation, and we have to start from scratch again since Arabella’s work is…no longer tenable.”
Translation: they were going to pretend Arabella was never attached to the event because it looked bad for them.
“The ladies and I discussed possibilities as a new hostess, and I presented you as an option since you did such a wonderful job with Tippy’s party.”
“Thank you.” My pulse was in overdrive now.
I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but hosting the Legacy Ball would be a game-changer. It was the ultimate stamp of social approval.
“Some of the other members were resistant at first, since the Legacy Ball has traditionally been hosted by those who come from…a certain lineage.”A.k.a. two or more generations of wealth. My smile dimmed. “However, youareengaged to Dante Russo. We have great respect for the Russo family, both present and future members, and after much deliberation, we’d like to formally invite you to be the new host of the Legacy Ball.”
A wisp of unease tugged at my stomach, but I pushed it aside. Hosting the ball was hosting the ball, regardless of the reasons behind it.
“I’d be honored and delighted to accept. Thank you for thinking of me.”
“Wonderful! I’ll send you the details later this afternoon. I’m looking forward to working with you again, Vivian. Oh, and please do say hi to Dante for me.”
Buffy hung up.
I closed my umbrella and entered Lohman & Sons, my skin buzzing with anticipation. Decor, catering, entertainment...there were so many possibilities given how big the ball’s budget was.
I’d planned on taking my two o’clock call at home, but I should head back to the office—
“Vivian?”
Surprise crept through me at the familiar brown eyes staring at me from behind the counter.
“Luca? What are you…” My question tapered off when a piece of an earlier conversation with Dante rose to the forefront of my mind.
What does he do now?
Salesman.
