Page 40 of Just a Plot Twist
It’s good that I’m here, then. I’ll make sure Claire doesn’t hurt herself trying to be a crutch-less hero tonight.
I offer her my arm and at first she doesn’t see it. Her eyes are dead set on the doors to the venue. I have to wave my elbow like a chicken flapping its wings for her to notice. Her brows go in the air.
“This might help with the gimp leg look,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes, her limp still going strong.
“Do it for appearances,” I urge, keeping pace with her.
“Appearances are exactly what I’m trying to avoid here.” She grimaces but gives me a once over before accepting my arm.
“Are you saying you don’t want to be seen with me?” I offer a gasp of mock hurt.
Her lips twist to one side. “I don’t want theconsequencesof being seen on your arm. There’s a difference.”
“Ouch. You can’t stand the thought of people thinking we’re together?” I ask.
I might know what she means. She can’t forego her career for a relationship, she said. The thing is, people can have both. This isn’t a “mid-century suburbia with a white picket fence” situation here. Frankly, it’s a little bizarre that she thinks otherwise.
And it’s bizarre that it bothers me so much.
Once inside, Claire lets go of my arm. “Thanks,” she says, meeting my gaze briefly before taking in the ballroom. Her eyes sweep over it with a critical gaze, like she’s responsible for it.
She stands apart from me now, as if she’s cut herself off and wants to do her own thing.
It’s just as well because I catch a glimpse of Peter Schiller and his wife, Mandy, across the way. They’re laughing and talking with a small crowd. How do they know the Hansons and why are they here?
“Where are your grandparents?” I take my eyes off Peter and Mandy to scan the rest of the room.
“Oh, this is the mingling period before they make their grand entrance. We’re all supposed to engage in awkward small talk while we wait.”
“Good thing I’m skilled at awkward small talk.” My gaze finds Peter and Mandy again. I need to go say hello, if for no other reason than to keep up appearances. Things have to be status quo right now while we figure out what’s going on.
“You going to be okay?” I ask, my gaze going down to her ankle and back up to her green eyes.
“Of course. You go mingle.” She does a big circular motion with her hand. “The appetizers should be out soon.”
“I do need to go talk with a couple of people.”
At this, Claire frowns in confusion.
“Hope to run into you later,” I tell her. I start to walk away, backwards, lifting up my hand in a telephone gesture and mouthing the words: “Call if you need help.”
She pretends to not hear or understand. “What?” Her pseudo panic-stricken face says. And then the look she gives me is triumphant, like she’s too clever for her own good.
I’m starting to think she is.
I wheel around, scratching my head. That woman is…interesting. She’s stubborn. Beautiful. Enjoyable to be around.
The eventisan extravaganza. The ballroom of at least two hundred people has been transformed, with a sea of shimmery white sheets of cloud-like fabrics hanging from ceiling rafters. The stringed lights and Claire’s garland swoop and dip all along the walls and above every table.The round tables glint with brilliant white everything. The opulence is blinding. And there really is a large, raised pool of water outside the huge, open doorway that leads to a luxury patio.
I reach Peter and Mandy. Are they surprised I’m here?
Or is that a touch of guilt on their faces?
They recover quickly, though, and give me a warm welcome. We start talking like we don’t have a care in the world, like he’s not scheming to ditch my father, leaving him without his closest friend and the president of his company.
It’s hard to pretend everything’s fine around him, but I need to stay close by and listen in. It’s good I’m here.
