Page 25 of Coral Memories

She sipped through the bubbles, delighted at the fizzy nature of the golden champagne. She could imagine her mother’s reaction to this. “Thank you for the warning.”

As they wove through the crowd, he introduced her as his date, alternating seamlessly between English and French, rendering even the simplest of greetings eloquent.

“How did you learn French?” Ginger asked, intrigued. She hadn’t known he spoke the language.

“Originally from my grandparents. I also studied languages in school.”

“Do you know others?”

“A smattering of a variety,” he replied modestly. Turning slightly, he acknowledged a man nearby. “Now, I would like to introduce you to our hosts.”

The ambassador beamed at Bertrand. “My dear friend. It’s wonderful to see you.” His eyes twinkled as he turned to Ginger. “And who is this enchanting young lady?”

“Ambassador DuBois, may I present Miss Ginger Sheraton.” Bertrand placed a hand on the small of her back. “Ginger, this is Ambassador DuBois and his wife, Marie.”

Marie greeted her warmly in lightly accented English. “What a pleasure to meet you, Miss Sheraton. We’re delighted you could join us this evening.”

They chatted, and then the two men began to speak about world affairs. While Marie excused herself to welcome other guests, Ginger followed the conversation with keen interest. Far from feeling left out, she was thrilled to be in the company of such intelligent men. How refreshing it was, and how different from the small beach town where she’d grown up.

Shortly, they moved into another resplendent room. A multi-course meal followed, and Ginger analyzed every dish. Conversations were grounded in importance—far from the frivolous talk of the secretarial staff. She delighted in the exchange of thoughtful opinions and the desire for real solutions to improve world situations. They spoke of using new technologies and industrial innovation to address topics as diverse as space travel, democracy, and hunger.

This was the world she was meant for. She could feel it.

More than that, she knew she could contribute to it.

After dinner, couples took to the dance floor, swaying to a small orchestra. Bertrand leaned in. “Are you enjoying yourself,ma chérie?” he asked, lightly caressing her knuckles with his thumb.

“It’s magical,” she replied. All evening, his merest glance or touch sent shivers through her. At first, the physiological response surprised her, but as the hours passed, she became more accustomed to it. “The finery and food are astounding, but it’s the conversation and ideas I find most stimulating.”

“You’re a rare one, Ginger.” A slow smile curved Bertrand’s lips as he leaned his head toward hers.

“We’re all unique.”

“Indeed we are, but you stand far above the rest. Would you care to dance?”

She must have looked doubtful because he whispered, “Simply follow my lead. A waltz is a box step. Listen to the music and move with me.” His eyes twinkling, he stood and offered his hand.

Her long skirt swirled around her calves as she moved with the swelling music, his arms embracing her at a respectable distance. She fell into step with him, recalling the simple four-step movement from a school dance she’d once attended. Not that she’d danced then; she’d towered over the other boys, andnone dared ask her to dance. Still, she’d watched and memorized the steps. Those young couples were far from adept, paling compared to those who glided with ease around her now.

Four simple steps—easy math. Insofar as music was based on math, so were the dances accompanying it. She relaxed into the rhythm.

Bertrand kept eye contact, seemingly amused at something that escaped her. Yet, an inexplicable warmth filled her chest. As much as she enjoyed their previous casual conversations, tonight was an altogether different experience.

In his arms, her feelings for him grew. She had come to know this man over countless coffees, and she felt safe in his arms.

At once, she knew. This is where she was meant to be. They danced until, finally, he whispered, “We should go. One shouldn’t be among the last to leave a party. I like to leave people wishing I’d stayed a little longer.”

“Of course.” Recalling the films she had seen, an impulse struck her, one she couldn’t deny. “I’d like to have some fresh air before we leave. Do you mind?”

A smile touched his lips. “As you like.” He led her through an open door to a terrace where they were alone.

His arms around her felt so natural, and she longed for more. “Would you like to kiss me now?”

Bertrand’s eyes crinkled with a broader smile. “With delight.”

The touch of lips on hers was sweeter than any dessert she’d ever had, and she felt her body’s thrilling response. They kissed again—a little longer and even sweeter.

Finally, he pulled back, peppering kisses on her shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you to know what you wanted. I hope tonight has changed your mind—even a little.”

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