A Millionaire for Cinderella(12)

“Well, at her age, it’s best she not push herself too soon.”

Her age? Ethyl wasn’t much younger. The way the corner of Stuart’s mouth was fighting not to smile, he was thinking the same thing. “Knowing Ana, she’ll recover so fast she’ll make the rest of us look lazy,” Patience said.

Ethyl looked over as though she was noticing her for the first time. “Hello—Patty, isn’t it?”

“Patience.”

“Right. Ana mentioned she gave you a ticket. I’m glad you could make it. You’ll be accepting Ana’s award for her, right?” The older woman turned her attention back to Stuart. Actually, she physically turned toward Stuart and, in doing so, turned her back to Patience. Not on purpose, she told herself. Even so, she found herself blocked from the conversation. While Stuart nodded and went over details, she stood awkwardly to the side, smiling at the people who glanced in her direction.

“Lucky us,” Stuart said, once Ethyl freed him from her attentions. “We’re sitting at the front table.”

“What does that mean?” From his sarcasm, she guessed not anything good.

“We get our rubber chicken first.”

“Oh.”

“And we get to sit with Ethyl. Take good notes. Ana’s going to want a blow-by-blow recap.” He pointed across the crowd to a congregation in the corner. “Looks like the bar is over there. I’ll buy you drink.”

They wound their way through the crowd, a difficult task as every ten feet some acquaintance of Ana’s stopped them to ask for a medical update. After one very familiar-looking man inquired, she touched Stuart’s arm. “Was that...?”

“The mayor?” He nodded.

Yep, she was out of her league. Please don’t let me do something stupid

“Wine?” Stuart asked when they finally reached the front of the bar line.

Patience shook her head. “Sparkling water, please.” Alcohol would go straight to her head, and she needed to keep her senses as sharp as possible. Another man walked by and checked out her legs. She gave the hemline a tug, on the off chance she could cover another quarter inch or so.

“You look fine.” Stuart’s breath was gentler than the breeze as he bent close and whispered in her ear. “Just a bunch of people...”

“Dressed up and showing off.” She repeated his lesson for his benefit. Certainly her insides weren’t listening. Her skin crawled, positive she was being evaluated by every person in the room and coming up short. What was that phrase about putting lipstick on a pig?

How she envied Stuart and the effortlessness with which he fit into his world. “I bet you go to a lot of these kinds of parties,” she said to him.

“Only when I absolutely have to. Crowds and parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Really? But you look so at home.” Everyone did, except for her.

“I’ll tell you a secret.” He leaned in close again. Damn, if he didn’t smell better than the flower arrangements. “It helps if you think of all this as one big game,” he said.

Distracted by the way his lips moved when he whispered, Patience nearly missed what Stuart said. “A game?”

“One big contest. Society’s version of who’s the biggest. Everyone’s trying to prove they’re better than the other.”

“You make it sound like the whole room is a big pile of insecurity.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Including you?” she asked, although she couldn’t imagine Stuart ever having a reason to be insecure.

“I’ve had my moments. Hard not to when you’re raised by Theodore Duchenko.” His eyes looked down at the glass in his hand, studying the contents. “My grandfather would make anyone feel insecure. He was what you’d call ‘larger than life.’”

She was beginning to think life under Theodore Duchenko wasn’t much of a picnic. “And step-grandma?”

A shadow crossed his features. It might have been a shadow from one of the people in the crowd, but Patience couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was, the passing left his expression darker than before. “Gloria is a case unto herself.”

What did that mean? Before she could ask, he was steering her toward a group of tables lining the side wall on which were displayed a collection of wrapped baskets, photographs and other items. “The infamous silent auction,” Stuart announced. “Everything a person couldn’t want, dutifully accompanied by a heaping serving of guilt.” He pointed to an easel next to the table where a large poster sat. Above the photograph of a big black Labrador, a caption read, “He’s got so much love to give; if only someone would love him back.” The dog’s big brown eyes grabbed Patience’s heart and squeezed.

“Admit it,” Stuart said. “You want to adopt a puppy now, don’t you. Or at least bid on a membership to the wine-of-the-month club.” Patience took a long drink from her glass. The puppy and the wine weren’t the only things she wanted and couldn’t have.

The two of them spent time reviewing the various items up for auction, with Stuart predicting how much he thought the final bid would be for each one. Despite his sarcastic commentary, he too bid on a few items, including a customized kitty tree for Nigel and, to Patience’s surprise, a braided gold bracelet. “This is for Ana right?” she teased. “Because I’m not sure your assistant’s husband would like you giving his wife jewelry.”

“Who says I wasn’t planning to give the bracelet to you?”

She laughed. Wistful quivers aside, that was hardly likely. “Exactly what you give the girl you don’t trust.”

“You don’t think I would?”

“I think...” His eyes dared her to believe his offer. “I hope you’re joking,” she said.

“You’re not into expensive jewelry?”

Not if it came with strings attached, and that was the only kind of expensive jewelry she knew of. “I think Ana would enjoy the gift more.”

There was something very off-putting about the way he reacted to her response. Rather than laugh or look disappointed, he gave her one of those soul-searching stares.

She was about to ask him if she’d said something wrong when Ethyl Calloway reappeared with a silver-haired gentleman behind her. “This is Bernard Jenkins from WZYV,” she said, stepping in front of Patience—again. “He’s emceeing tonight’s award presentation. Since you’re accepting Anastasia’s award, I thought you two should meet.”

On the emcee’s arm was the most statuesque blonde Patience had ever seen without a stripper pole.

The woman introduced herself as a Natalie Something. “We met last year at the bar’s program on the revised probate laws,” she said, pumping Stuart’s hand with enthusiasm.

“That’s right,” Stuart replied. “You’re with Ropes Prescott. Good to see you again.”

The conversation moved into a mishmash of names and companies Patience didn’t know. She could see why Bernard became a deejay. The man knew how to talk. And talk. Patience put on a pretend smile and used the time to examine the lovely Natalie. Her little black dress was current. In fact, Patience was pretty sure she’d seen a picture of the dress in a fashion magazine last month. The woman knew all the “in” jokes too. Every time she laughed, she would toss her mane of blond curls and let her fingers linger on Stuart’s jacket sleeve. Patience squeezed her glass. She’d wanted to know what kind of woman Stuart would date. She had a pretty good idea now. Her stomach soured.

Meanwhile, Bernard Jenkins gave her a wink.

“Excuse me,” she murmured. Without bothering to see if anyone heard her, she slipped away in search of a few quiet moments in the ladies’ room. The draped tables used for guest check-in were empty save for a solo volunteer who was packing unused papers into a box. She smiled as Patience walked by, the first smile she’d received outside of Stuart’s all night.

“People dressed up and showing off,” she repeated to herself. Was it really all a game, like Stuart said? If so, he had to be one of the winners. It was so obvious when you compared him to everyone else in the room.

“Isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”

Dr. Tischel came strolling out of the ballroom, with a smile as broad as the rest of him. “Twice in one day. Fortune must be smiling on me.”

“Hello, Dr. Tischel.”

“Karl, please.” Spreading his arms, he drew her into an unexpected hug. Pulling her close, he held on so tightly Patience had to angle her spine to prevent his hips from pressing against hers. Antiseptic and cologne assaulted her nostrils, making her grimace.

After a beat longer than necessary, she managed to extricate herself. “Is Mrs. Tischel here, too?”

“Last I heard she was in Salem with all the other witches.” He laughed at his joke.

Patience took a step backward. His eyes had that glassy sheen she knew too well. She looked to the check-in table, hoping the volunteer might help, but the woman had conveniently disappeared. And she could forget Stuart. He was probably so busy talking to the lovely Natalie he didn’t realize she was missing. Looked like she would have to deal with the situation the same way she’d solved problems her whole life. On her own.