Page 71 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?
NINETEEN
A Novel Evening
Max grasped the hem of her black cocktail dress, protecting it as she traversed the rotating glass doors. She was impressed. The museum lobby was not the museum lobby. She paused to take in the fully decorated space in front of her and gave her hair a subsequent shake, hoping the wind hadn’t whipped up too much chaos. She’d chosen to wear it down in a less-is-more style. But, wow. The pop-up bookstore event was anything but.
The lobby of the Sinclair Museum of Art had never looked so downright swanky, as if a group of elves with design degrees had descended in the night and had their way with the space. Ella, with Ariana assisting her, had really made a meal of their concept. Max had done what she could to further their efforts. She’d been the one to secure the location, calling in a favor from her friend Barney, the museum’s director. He’d agreed to waive the usual rental fee for the event Ella and Ariana had affectionately namedA Novel Evening. The title was printed in gold on all the little black napkins they’d managed to have donated, matching the shimmer of silver and gold balloons clustered around the room.
The sponsored bar stood in one corner, flanked by high-top tables draped in black linens—courtesy of Fork, Yeah Catering Company, who’d generously supplied them pro bono. Overhead, the museum’s tall lobby ceilings gave the space an air of elegance. And at the entrance, Tony, the classical guitarist, filled the air with soft music that made browsing the shelves of books feel like something special.
“Thank you for your attendance, madam,” Morgan said in her most official voice, stepping forward with a black card that informed her that all proceeds would go exclusively to rebuild Doug’s Books. “How did I do?” she asked Max in an adorable whisper. “I’m the door person. I greet the guests.”
“Morg, it was one of the better greetings I’ve had in life,” Max said, and gave Morgan a sideways squeeze. “This place looks amazing.” She scanned the room that had yet to fill up. It was early, however, so it was only a matter of time. “I’m serious. Live music. Passed hors d'oeuvres. I was expecting paper plates and cake.”
“It’s all Ella. She’s barely slept, putting all of this together. Lists upon lists. The group texts. I think you’re on the one about the venue.” It was the only lengthy communication she had received from Ella since everything came apart. “Literally everything is donated.”
She marveled, just now noticing the display at the back of the room, which featured a collage of photos of Doug and the bookstore. A brilliant idea to show everyone what was lost and what was to be gained. “That’s nothing short of amazing.”
“Remind me never to underestimate that one.” She nudged Max with her elbow. “Go grab a glass of bubbly and pick out a book or eighty-five. Doug had a lot of inventory in that unit. I’m hoping for a lesbian hockey romance, myself.”
“Does that exist?”
Her blue eyes went wide. “Oh, sweet Max. You’re in for a treat.”
“I hear you. Hockey romance. I’ll seek one out. You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Max moved into the room, looking for a place where she could plug in, assist, or be helpful. But the serene smiles on the faces of absolutely everyone in the room told her all was under control. She strolled to the bar, scanning the room until she found the one person who slipped into nearly every thought she had. There she was. Max exhaled slowly, anchored in a manner she couldn’t have predicted just seeing Ella a few yards away. She calmed Max’s storm every damn time, even when they weren’t exactly speaking. She could almost set her watch by the effect. Gorgeous, Ella stood in the middle of the shelves wearing a red dress that came in at the waist and flared. Her hair was pulled partially back and fastened with a silver clasp that matched her three-inch heels. Max swallowed. Of course she’d look incredible. It was impossible for her not to. Next to Ella, Doug squeezed his hands in front of him, wearing a black blazer and a red and black checkered bow tie. Of all the unbothered faces in the room, his was not one of them. Not exactly a socialite, Max would imagine that having the spotlight square in his face was not his idea of a good time.
“I’m so grateful,” he told Max a few minutes later when she caught him on one of the laps he started making. “I’ll never be able to say thank you enough to this town,” he said, shaking his head. “I just hate that everyone is having to go to so much trouble over me.”
“Tell yourself it’s for the books. Does that help at all?”
He paused, nodding, as he internalized the advice. “I like it better, actually.”
“See? It works, and it’s true, too.”
She saw Ella steal a glance in their direction and then choose to take the long way to the silent auction table. That was okay, too. Max could sadly give her space, even though all she wanted to do was sit with her at one of those tables in the corner and hear all about what she’d been up to lately. How the business was going, if she’d picked up any new clients, or eaten at a new restaurant she’d enjoyed. But sharing the same space was better than nothing, right?
“Max.”
She turned and found herself standing in front of none other than Rachel herself. Her red hair was up in a twist, and she wore a forest-green designer something or other that made her look like she was walking a runway rather than attending a charity event. But that was Rachel, fashion first. Always. “Hey, Rachel. How are you?”
“I’ve pretty much had the worst year of my life. What about you?” She held her martini off to the side in a dangle. Though Max wasn’t entirely happy to see her, she could also admit that none of this was Rachel’s actual fault.
“Ups and downs for sure.”
“I’m guessing the ups had to do with my best friend.”
She paused, absorbing the pointed stare. She placed her drink on a nearby high-top and went with honesty. “I’d be lying if I said otherwise.”
“Good. I want you to realize how amazing she is. But maybe rein in those longing stares across the room like you’re watching a ship sail away.” Rachel’s voice was gentle as if offering legitimate advice. She turned to go.
“That noticeable?”
Rachel paused and raised one bare shoulder. “Might as well fly a blimp outside with her photo on it.”
“Good tip. Thanks, Rach.”
“Anytime,” Rachel said, about to breeze her way to someone new. “Now let’s raise some money and make our girl proud.”
