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I do not know how many rooms this place has, but it must be dozens. A room for each occasion would not surprise me. Not that the MacMillans flaunt their status—in fact, Cormac has always struck me as far more modest than he ought to be—but being one of the oldest families of Somerset Harbor society makes it hard to hide their wealth. What it must have been like to grow up in a place that could be mistaken for a museum…what does that do to a kid?
We grab a champagne from a passing server, and I take in the fact that I’m in a real ballroom. It’s surreal. A jazz band plays at the far end of the ballroom. There’s probably a hundred or more people in the room, dancing, drinking, eating tapas. All decked out in formal wear. I had to borrow my mom’s little black dress for the occasion. “Being here feels wrong. Like I’m on a movie set instead of being a guest.”
She laughs. “I know what you mean.”
“Really?”
“I am still adjusting to all this…stuff. It’s going to be awhile before this feels normal. If it ever feels normal. You know how I grew up, Aria.”
The daughter of B&B owners, Lily Olson, had a childhood of cooking for other people, always having guests underfoot, never a moment’s peace. It’s no wonder she became a chef—that kind of life comes naturally to her. Her parents were okay financially, but definitely working class like me. It was one of the things we bonded over when we met.
I nod. “Yeah. You’ll have to let me know when it feels normal, because I don’t think I could ever get used to it.”
“So, look around. There are at least twenty single guys here in our age group tonight. Your odds are good at getting a few numbers, if not more.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I am just here to have a nice night out.”
She smirks. “You’re in a slinky black dress just to have a nice night out? Okay.”
“Yes, yes, you’re very smart, aren’t you?”
“May I have this dance?” a deep voice asks me from behind.
Lily smiles up at whomever it is, and when I turn and find a handsome man, I smile, too. “Yes.” And so begins my night at the birthday party. The dancer’s name is John, and he’s a lawyer who has invested in a winery. Tall, with sandy blond hair and deep brown eyes that match his evening suit. Decent enough build, but he doesn’t fall into my typical jock body type. But maybe that’s a good thing, since I don’t have any luck with those guys.
After two dances, though, it’s easy to see I probably won’t be calling him. He’s nice enough, but at the start of the second dance, he’s talking stock tips, and I’m bored.
Lily is too busy talking with someone I don’t know for me to bother her, so I make my way to the bar in the front corner for something stronger than champagne.
“Hello there,” a man says behind me.
I smile and turn to see if he’s talking to me. Must be—he’s looking right at me. “Hi.”
“I’m Henry Allworth. Pleasure to meet you,” he says. He’s Asian, just under six feet tall, and has a brilliant smile besides his trim physique. His navy suit is sumptuous.
“Aria Bueller. Nice to meet you.”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
I laugh as the line moves. Facetiously, I muse, “I suspect they’re on the house.”
He smiles. “Yes, well, I was looking for an excuse to spend a moment with a pretty girl, and that was the first thing that came to mind.”
After we get our drinks and make some small talk, we head to the dance floor. Henry is a banker, and though I have a vague sense of what that entails, when he talks about it, I’m lost. He’s nice, but there’s no spark.
Do I need a spark? A spark got me pregnant last time.
We exchange numbers, but I doubt I’ll call. Seems to be the theme so far. A swing and a miss. But it’s been a long time since I swung, so I don’t mind the misses. It’s fun to be out of the house and among grown-ups, doing adult things. I dance with two others after Henry, before taking a break to catch up to Lily and Cormac. They make a handsome couple. “Thank you for inviting me to this.”
“Of course, Aria,” he says with such a sweet smile. He’s glowing just like she is. “I hope you’re having a good time.”
“I am. Haven’t danced this much since college. It’s great. How old is your mom turning?”
His cheerful expression falters a little. “We have learned to never ask that question.”
I laugh. “Got it.”
“Excuse me, Aria. Lily, I’ll catch up later—I need to go say hi to Everett before he finds some girl to disappear with.”
