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“Penelope.”
Sophia.
Her hair is swept into a French twist. She glitters from her ears to her neck and her black sequined gown. Her makeup is classy, and she is absolutely beautiful.
“I asked Tim to notify me the moment you arrived.” She smiles, red lipstick smooth on her lips. “Come. I have matters to attend, but I’ll introduce you to Charlotte.”
Sophia constantly says “Hello” to guests as we weave toward huge open double doors. My hand is tucked in hers, and I take sips of my drink, careful not to spill it on me or anyone else. I’m led to a table front and center in the room. Standing around the table are two guys. One has longish, curly blond hair. He looks nothing like Franklin. He stands between a guy with dark hair and a girl with fair hair wearing a standard long black gown. They turn, and all three sets of blue eyes lock with mine.
“Darlings, this is Penelope. She will be sitting with us. Introduce yourselves and assist her with anything she needs.” She turns to me and rests a soft hand on my forearm. “Penelope, I have to take care of a few things. There’s fresh champagne on the table.”
I hold her arm a fraction longer and whisper close to her ear, “Is Franklin coming?”
Her gaze flits over mine. “I hope so.”
Sophia leaves, and I turn to her other adult children.
“So this is the famous Penelope Gilbert,” the dark-haired man says as he pours champagne into a flute and hands it to me.
“Thanks.” I raise my glass. “I already have a drink, and I’m not famous.”
He chuckles as though I’m not in on his joke. “You’ll need another,” he quips. “By the way, my mother and brothers are saying you are the most interesting person at our dinner table.”
My face flushes. Praise be to thick makeup and concealer.
He holds out a hand. “I’m Byron. Third in line to the Hendricks’ throne.” He shakes my hand. He smiles, and it reaches his alluring blue eyes.
“He’s a bloody dickhead, that’s who he is.” The blond-haired guy steps forward. He sounds… odd.
“Are you from the East Coast?”
His smile is broad and cheeky. “The southern coast of Australia… Adelaide. Heard of it?”
“Um… no.” Is it a trick question? “So, you’re Australian?”
“This Aussie is part of the family.” Byron ruffles his hair.
The Aussie holds out a hand. “Brandon Johns. Not a Hendricks.”
I shake his hand and hope I’m sitting next to him. Brandon looks like fun.
“We call him BJ,” says the female I assume to be Charlotte.
I choke on my drink.
“Yeah, I like her.” She leans in and takes my hand. “I’m Lottie. The fourth in line.” She rolls her eyes. “The smartest of these idiots, except for Franklin. No one is smarter than Franklin.” I smile at Charlotte, not knowing whether to call her Lottie or not.
“I’m Penny.” I raise my glass.
“Penny, if you haven’t already noticed, my mother likes to use our birth names.” Charlotte takes my hand and leads me to a seat on the side of the table, where we can see the stage and the doors to the foyer. “We’re sitting here.”
A bell chimes and the crowd spills into the ballroom.
Sitting next to Charlotte, I take a moment to appreciate the decorations. Fairy lights cover the ceiling, and crystal chandeliers project a kaleidoscope of light around the room. The main chandelier hangs centrally over the dance floor. Front and center to the main stage are a screen and table, along with a microphone and some auction items. The walls are donned in artwork, which is part of the auction.
The table centerpiece is a three-foot glass vase with a white-flower bouquet almost the width of the round table. Throughout the assortment of flowers, lights twinkle—a spectacular sight around the room.
“My mom knows how to throw a gala ball.” Charlotte must have been watching me as I took in the room.
