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“Not very often,” I tell her sotto voce. “Mostly it makes me itch, so I never really learned how to put it on. And Max doesn’t care.”
“I have some hypoallergenic stuff that should work.” She studies my face carefully. Clever cosmetic work is what I will need for this evening. “I’d be happy to serve as your makeup artiste. I’ve been told that I’m quite good.”
“Thank you.”
She smiles at the relief in my voice, then nods enthusiastically. “I’ll dress your hair too. Believe me, you will turn heads.”
Not sure I want to be the cynosure of everyone’s eye, but I doubt Liz will let me be a wallflower. With an inward sigh, I hurry after the rest of the group. Max’s family is wonderful, but exhausting.
ChapterNineteen
Max
Cress disappears into Frank and Liz’s room while Frank, Mum, and I make a last check on the Churchill Bar, which is beautifully set up for the pre-dinner drinks where we decided on champagne only and a selection of canapés. The Club set the Ballroom up with tables of eight, Dad and Mum seated with his three best mates from RAF days and their wives. The rest of us are at a table nearby. Other than these two tables, and one for the kids, we’ve left the seating as a free-for-all.
Sean grumbles over sitting with the little ones instead of his grandparents, but we tell him he is being entrusted with ensuring the sprogs’ good behavior. Now he knows he is a boss, his attitude has improved.
Dark blue chairs surround tables dressed in pristine white linen. We decided on a served meal rather than a buffet, featuring a choice of lamb or lemon sole. And there is enough room left for a four-piece band and dance floor.
As soon as we are sure everything is ready, Frank and I hustle into the lobby to greet guests as they come in. A few minutes later, Ian and Les join us. We entrust hotel security with keeping a tight rein on who enters, but JL is already in the ballroom along with a couple of GSU guys as backup, making sure the security stays tight.
When our girls—sorry, women—come down, loud intakes of breath swirl around our space. Meggy is smashing in a teal gown with a deep v in the back, her short, dark hair dusted with something that makes it silvery. Liz’s dress is burgundy, a color that should clash with her red hair. Instead, they enhance each other. Diana’s gold gown is also a cracker.
But when Cress comes in, my pulse goes up to stratospheric levels. Her emerald gown sets off her salt-and-pepper curls and the mesmerizing hazel eyes that drew me in from the first time I saw her.
All the Grant men are in formal kilts tonight, as are many of the others, who sport the RAF hundredth anniversary tartan in light and dark blue with white and red stripes.
I reach out to Cress and wrap her in my arms, heedless of messing up her makeup or hair, the scent of her intoxicating me. “La mia stellina,” I breathe against her neck.
Cress nuzzles her nose against my chest.
“Don’t destroy all my hard work, you two,” Liz growls as she walks up to us.
A broad hand slaps my back. “Break it up,” Les rumbles.
Startled, we move apart. Cress, horror washing over her face, touches my jacket. “Oh, Max. Your beautiful waistcoat.”
I look down. Foundation and mascara are smeared onto the fabric, along with some lipstick. Brushing at it makes it worse.
Ian laughs. “I’d tell you to get a room, but you already have one.” Then he whispers, “Go sponge yourself off, then mingle, and introduce Cress to Colin and Desmond. She can test how they feel about her plan to write about Uncle Munro.”
I glance around the room and spot my cousins, identical twins, standing like sentries on either side of tiny Aunty Grace, Dad’s younger sister. Somehow, she missed out on the Grant gene for height. At seventy-five, she’s even shorter than Cress.
Cress is standing patiently while Liz puts her to rights, so I punch my brother’s shoulder. “I told Cress they would be here. I’m sure she will be interested in talking to them. She was planning on asking Dad what he thought, but this will be even better.”
Even as I say this, a tremor of concern prickles my scalp. Colin and Des rarely agree on anything. So if one of them likes Cress’ idea, the other might take against it to be contrary.
I turn to Cress. “I need to go wipe off this muck,” I call over, as I head for the toilets.
When I return, Liz is still fussing with her hair. I wonder if Cress showed her the picture from the night of the reception at the Palmer House. Her hairstyle is almost the same, most of it up in a twist with a pearl and crystal clip in the shape of a branch with leaves. A few curls hang down to her shoulder. “Enough, Liz. She’s fine.”
Liz’s glare could melt Vatnajökull, the largest glacier in Europe.“We are not going for fine here.”
Now I’ve pissed off my sister-in-law. I scan the room and wave to my Sheremetov relatives. I need to thank them for the books. Dad was so pleased with the gift.
I turn back to Liz. “Leave her alone now. I need to introduce her to someone.”
Cress moves away from Liz, calling back over her shoulder. “Thanks so much. But I’m sure I’ll be a mess again soon.”
