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Tomorrow.Tomorrow was an opportunity to start fresh. Tomorrow she would keep her distance, behave professionally and, above all, avoid late-night kitchen assignations with Grant Santos.
CHAPTER NINE
THESETTINGSUNlit up the sky with a dazzling display of rosy pink, vibrant orange and soft violet. Upbeat jazz pulsed through speakers strategically placed around the deck. Guests mingled among the three round tables that had been set up with the zinnia arrangements proudly on display among the white and blue china plates, elegant glassware and flickering candles.
Alexandra stood off to the side, conscious of the curious glances occasionally tossed her way. She didn’t recognize anyone from her days in the Hamptons, thankfully. But she still felt unsure of herself.
And uncertain why she was here.
It had been Jessica who had insisted she stay for the dinner. It had come up that morning when they’d been doing the final walkthrough of the schedule. Mercifully, if Jessica had suspected anything last night, she’d kept it to herself.
“After dinner you’ll be on the deck to welcome guests with Ms. Jones and the other Pearson Group executives—”
“Oh, no,” Alexandra had cut in. “I’ll just go up to my room or wander the grounds. I don’t want to be in the way.”
Jessica had frowned. “Both Ms. Jones and I would feel more comfortable if you were on site, especially for the first big event. Besides, the guests were impressed by your displays at the library brunch. It would be nice for you to be available to answer questions and chat with them.”
When Alexandra had opened her mouth to protest again, Jessica had speared her with an intense gaze.
“I recall in your proposal to Mr. Santos that you mentioned your flowers adding a personal touch that so many companies lacked. Surely, your attendance would reinforce that.”
Alexandra had been trapped, and Jessica knew it. When Alexandra had pointed out she’d brought nothing more than a sundress, Jessica had disappeared upstairs and returned with a very large violet bag marked with the silver label of an exclusive boutique Alexandra had used to shop at in her early college days.
“What’s this?”
“You mentioned during our tour this had been one of your favorite shops.” Jessica had glanced down at Alexandra’s T-shirt and jeans, her lips thinning. “Your standard uniform is appropriate for your shop. But I took the liberty of picking up several items in case you were needed for events like these.”
Coming from almost anyone else, Alexandra would have taken the comment as an insult. Coming from Jessica, though, it wasn’t meant to be rude. It was just fact.
And, Alexandra admitted as she glanced down at the dress she’d selected, after so many years of thrift store finds and secondhand items, she’d felt like a little kid at Christmas as she’d pulled out the luxury clothing. It had been a very long time since she’d worn new garments. Her favorite had been an off-the-shoulder sage-green gown with a sweetheart neckline and a long, flowing skirt. The slit over one thigh had elevated the dress from elegant to subtly sexy.
She’d set aside the dress, though, when she’d found herself wondering what Grant would think of her in it. Not a professional train of thought, nor a wise one. Daydreaming about Grant would only lead to more confusion and, ultimately, heartache.
The dress she wore now—a white creation with wide straps, a square neck and a fitted top that flared out into a wide skirt with blue swirls that swished about her knees when she walked—had given her a renewed sense of confidence when she’d stationed herself on the deck.
Really, being out here to mingle with Grant’s guests was an incredible opportunity for The Flower Bell. She’d even remembered to tuck a few business cards into the pocket of her skirt. The only drawback was that her plan to stay as far away from Grant as possible had disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Right now he stood off to the side talking with a silver-haired couple and a younger, black-haired woman with a bubbly smile. As she’d circulated around the deck, sipping on water with lemon, she’d overheard several of Grant’s conversations with his guests. Unlike her father, who had reminded her of an upscale used car salesman with his too-wide smile and overly boisterous laugh, Grant was real, authentic in his communications and genuinely friendly.
His rigidness had disappeared. Now, as he talked with the couple and whom she assumed was their daughter, his smile was like the one she’d glimpsed in his biography picture at the library—genuine and warm.
Apparently, the only person who made Grant uptight and irritable was her.
Jessica walked up.
“The dress suits you.”
Alexandra smiled shyly. “Thank you. I haven’t worn anything like this in a very long time. I can’t wait to wear the green evening gown to the Met gala. I felt like Cinderella when I held it up.”
Jessica returned the smile with a tiny twitch of her lips that was most likely her version of a smile. “All you need is a pair of glass slippers.”
“I once saw a pair of Christian Louboutin heels that looked like the real-life version of Cinderella’s shoes.”
“After your work for the Pearson Group, you could afford several pairs of Louboutins.”
Jessica wasn’t wrong. But there were other things that now took priority. Things like rent and hiring more staff.
“Maybe.”
