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The journey to the front of the line took less than five minutes, which was just long enough for me to start anxiety-sweating. I regretted not bringing a large enough clutch to hold my anti-friction stick. The potential for some serious chub rub was escalating by the second.
Finally, Joe was putting the car in park and stepping out to open my door. I took a deep breath and tried my best to gracefully exit the vehicle. Joe offered me his hand and I smiledup at him gratefully.
“Thank you, Joe.”
“You’re welcome. You have a nice evening. I’ll see you later.” He shut my door and walked around to Max’s side, opening her door and offering his hand. I held my breath as she made her way to my side, her head held high and a mischievous grin on her face. “Ready?” She slid her arm through mine, her grin widening to a full, dazzling smile. Huh, I’d have to ask her what teeth whitening strips she used for those stunners.
“I think the question you should be asking is, are all the daddies ready foryou?”
She tipped her head back and laughed loudly, causing several heads to turn in our direction. I hesitated for a second, admiring the way the gorgeous exterior of the historic building was illuminated in the soft, fading light of the evening as it transitioned to night. Some stars were just starting to wink through, and the full moon was already glowing brightly in the sky. If I pretended I was walking into this hotel — which I could absolutely never afford to stay in — as a guest of someone other than Sissy, this evening would feel like it was straight from the pages of a fairy tale.
I wished upon one of those barely there stars that Maxine would find her Prince Charming tonight. Or Daddy Warbucks. Whichever.
Letting out a deep breath, I took a step forward, propelling us both toward the entrance where other guests were filing in. It was easy to spot who was here for the gala and who was staying at the hotel by their outfits alone. Gala attendees wearing tuxedos and ballgowns were interspersed among red-faced tourists in shorts and T-shirts.
In one of her eleventy-hundred texts over the past week, Sissy had instructed me to head to the Viennese Ballroom, where I was to promptly present myself to her for inspection since I’d never sent her a picture of my dress. I had been hoping that the gala would be held in one of the stunning garden venues on the hotel grounds, but these did not seem like outdoor people. They seemed more like people who paidotherpeople to do any outdoor things that did not include country-club activities like tennis and poolside lounging.
Maxine let out a quiet whistle.
“This place is insane, like I’m-actually-scared-to-touch-anything levels of insane. I bet they only use distilled water to flush the toilets and cleaned them with brushes made of gold.”
“Your mind is a truly fascinating place.” I steered us to the ballroom. “Now let’s go get some champagne.”
I decided I would find Sissy after I had a nice buzz from some expensive champagne. That seemed like a better plan.
“Is it just me or did everyone in attendance stop at Cartier before this shindig?” I whispered to Max as we stepped into the ballroom. “Are we supposed to check in somewhere to make sure our name is on a list or something? I don’t know what the protocol is for these things.”
Maxine, her lips slightly parted, was too busy taking in the general splendor of the room to answer me. I couldn’t blame her. The crystal chandeliers cast a soft light over the whole room, catching off the crystal vases overflowing with gorgeous flower arrangements on the tables. Even the white of the tablecloths seemed somehow enhanced. My gaze continued to drift over the room until it landed on Sissy, standing next to Macon and talking to an older couple. She had clearly gotten the Cartier memo. Large diamonds sparkled from each ear and a dazzling drop-pendant necklace graced the slim column of her neck, drawing attention to the sweetheart neckline and her ample bosom. The arm holding a champagne flute was sporting a tennis bracelet that complemented her necklace. All the bling almost distracted me from the tight black dress that hugged her frame like a koala on a eucalyptus tree. It was probably supposed to be a mermaid-style dress, but it was so tight that the flare at the bottom was barely noticeable. It seemed like it should have been impossible to walk in it.
“I see a waiter with champagne. We should definitely head that way.” Maxine tugged my arm, not that I would have resisted. The waiter was on the other side of the room from Sissy.
At our approach, the waiter moved his tray in our direction, offering, “Champagne, ladies?”
“Please,” I answered for both of us, taking two flutes off the tray. He moved away to serve other guests and I briefly considered grabbing another one as he passed us.
“Cheers.” Max tilted her glass to mine and we clinked them together, both of us taking a healthy drink after. The champagne was rich and smooth, and its sweetness burst across my tongue in a bubbly cascade.
“If this is how the other half lives, you’re going to have to give me one of your cutlets.”
“Whoever said money can’t buy happiness was full of shit. This champs is making me pretty damn happy.”
I shot her a warning glare. “No swearing tonight. We talked about this.”
Maxine rolled her eyes, taking another drink.
“You Southerners are so uptight. In Jersey, there’d be at least three fistfights before dinner, and no one would bat an overly extended eyelash.” The look on my face must have been suitably terrifying, because she held up her free hand plaintively. “Okay, okay — I will be the perfect Southern belle tonight. Don’t get your Spanx twisted.”
“I’m not wearing Spanx. Those things make me claustrophobic.”
Maxine leaned to look behind me, lips pursed and eyebrows raised as she peered at my backside.
“Huh, good for you. Your derriere is looking mighty plump. Was that polite enough for you?”
“Sutton, there you are!” Sissy’s shrill voice startled me, causing the golden liquid in my glass to slosh perilously close to the rim. “What are you doing hiding in a corner?”
She leaned forward, placing her cold hands on my arms, and kissed both my cheeks like we were from Paris and not Beacon Hill.
“You look beautiful, Sutton.” Macon’s greeting was much more genuine, and he chose a smile over cheek kisses.
