Page 24 of Coral Memories

“I’ll be right down. Thank you.” Asking Bertrand to meet her upstairs at her room would have been inappropriate; the hotel frowned on that.

She picked up the small evening bag the saleswoman had suggested. Fortunately, the woman had organized her entire outfit, including shoes, hosiery, and special undergarments. Pausing by the mirror, she thought of her mother. Mary Lou Sheraton would have been proud of her. She could hardly wait to write to her and tell her all about this magical evening.

Stepping into the elevator, she nodded to the uniformed attendant, an older man who smiled at her appearance. “Lobby, please.”

“Looks like this is a very special evening for you,” he said, admiring her dress.

“It’s my first date,” she confided in him, hardly able to contain her excitement. She would have preferred to tell her mother, but long-distance telephone calls were expensive. Her mother would have chastised her for that, so Ginger would send her a letter with all the details about the evening instead. She enjoyed writing and bringing her travels to life for her mother.

“A special night to remember,” the man said as he selected the floor.

While the elevator slid downstairs, Ginger’s heart quickened with anticipation. This evening promised to be one beyond her dreams.

The elevator doors opened to the ornate gilded lobby, where fashionable people chatted among fine upholstered furnishings. In one corner, a pianist played classical music.

Nearby, the man responsible for her fairytale transformation awaited her. Bertrand Delavie, looking devastatingly handsome in a bespoke tuxedo, approached her and took her hand. His silver-gray eyes sparkled with surprise, admiration...and something else.

Unmistakable affection.

“You’re utterly breathtaking,” he murmured with a whisper of a kiss to her outstretched hand. “I will be the envy of every man this evening.”

Her cheeks warmed at his words. Deflecting his comments, she said, “Your saleswoman has a magic wand. I don’t know how to thank you for this indulgence.”

Bertrand continued holding her hand. “It’s my unparalleled pleasure.”

Feeling the heat of his skin on hers, she tried to draw a breath but felt a constriction in her chest. Their usual friendly banter over coffee was already going differently this evening.

This was a date with a capital D. He’d been quite clear about that.

But why was her heart racing and her breathing so shallow? This sudden change in her physiology made little sense to her.

Pressing a hand to her collarbone, she said, “Everything feels different about tonight.” She weighed the variables that had changed to ascertain which one was having this impact on her. “Is it what we’re wearing?”

A smile played on Bertrand’s lips. “It might be. We’re looking our best this evening.”

Nodding, she replied, “I wouldn’t think clothes would make such a difference, but they seem to.”

“The right clothes inspire confidence. You’re more stunning than you realize.”

The heartbeat in his hand intensified, although it wasn’t in the least unpleasant. “Then what is it? Why the sudden shift between us?”

Bertrand ran a hand over his face in a not-so-subtle attempt to hide his humor, although Ginger failed to see what he found funny. “It’s not what is on the outside but the inside. In our hearts, dear Ginger. I believe we are fonder of each other than you realized.”

“Thank you for that insight,” Ginger replied, appreciating the sense in that. “You might be right.”

“Then, let our evening begin.” He presented his arm, and she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow as she’d seen women do in the movies. He guided her to a chauffeured car that awaited them and, with a gesture to the driver, insisted on helping her inside.

Flushed with pleasure, Ginger beamed at him.

On the drive to the French ambassador’s Connecticut home, their conversation relaxed into a more familiar rhythm, yet she still detected something akin to an energetic attraction between them.

When they arrived, Bertrand took Ginger’s hand again. Together, they ascended the steps to a grand estate and crossed the threshold into a world of grandeur.

The soaring ceilings, glittering crystal chandeliers, and impeccably dressed attendees immediately transported Ginger’s imagination to the lavish party scenes described inThe Great Gatsby, the book she’d recently devoured. However, with her sensibilities, she was confident the ending to her evening would be quite different.

She clung tighter to Bertrand’s arm, taking in the splendor surrounding them. With Bertrand by her side, she felt at ease. Servers with trays of champagne and interesting bite-sizedportions of food circulated among the guests, and he took a pair of glasses for them.

“You may sip this,” he whispered. “But it might make you a little light-headed. You don’t have to finish it.”

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