“Well that’s quite ironic.” I look at him unsure of why this is ironic and once he calms himself down he explains.
“I own one of the largest clothing retailers in the country, we’re here tonight raising money to send clothing down to Texas for everyone that got hit by that hurricane…and here I am, in need of another shirt.” I crack a smile, still not sure that it’s all that funny but not wanting him to feel that I was being rude.
“Well, hopefully we can get you sorted out and you won’t have to go looking for clothing donations of your own.” His laughter booms again as he walks off towards the kitchen.
Still holding my tray on my hand, I linger close to the young couple who are still regaling their company with stories of their weekend in the Hamptons, something I certainly would know nothing about. They chatter excitedly, finishing each other’s sentences and while I don’t want to stare I just can’t help it. They look so happy and once again I feel my heart sinking and my stomach dropping heavily towards my feet. Why had things had to be this way? Why couldn’t Gideon have been a decent guy without a wife? More to the point, why couldn’t he have avoided playing bachelor bartender that night? If he’d never been down in that stupid bar I never would have found him, and things never would have come this far. Now here I am, my heart caught in this trap and the more I struggle to free myself the tighter the trap pulls. I can’t set myself free but I also can’t just sit and wait for the hunter to come back and retrieve me once again.
“Oh, darling he is incorrigible! I told him after the honeymoon that I’d like to settle somewhere on the beach, you know, enjoy our weekends on the sand, fall asleep listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Do you know what he did?” The woman the young lady of the couple is talking to is shaking her head, her eyes shining brightly. “He only went and bought us a home out on the outer banks! It’s a gorgeous place but of course, far too many rooms for us to fill out.”
“Well, you have to think ahead Marcy, dear. The pitter patter of little feet and all that…” Marcy dismisses her with a wave and leans in to her new husband’s arm once again.
“Oh, darling, I can’t begin to think of that yet; I can barely decide what I want cook to make for dinner let alone take care of children!” Marcy’s friend leans in and in a loud whisper mentions the benefits of having a live in nanny.
Is this really what the life of a billionaire is all about? Perhaps I’m not missing out on all that much after all? Letting Gideon go is hard but letting go of everything else, not so much. Sure, Gideon had said the rich lifestyle wasn’t his scene but he’d also gone and slipped a check for $10,000 in to my purse and if that wasn’t evidence of the rich lifestyle then I don’t know what is. Maybe one day he can decide what he wants, maybe he can find a happy medium with a woman who doesn’t mind being his ‘bit on the side,’ a poor unsuspecting girl who thinks so little of herself that she’ll give her life to a man who can’t give all of his to her. I can’t be that woman though, even if he did ditch the wealthy life, I can’t live my life in the closet only being pulled out and shown off for special occasions. My mind starts to wander as I let my eyes survey the room, how many of these women are actually wives, how many are mink coats that have been pulled from storage, brushed off for appearances and are being paraded around for good impressions?
Hands reach out swiping glasses from my tray and I catch bits and pieces of conversations as I continue to look around the room at the variety of mismatched couples. I decide that once this tray is empty I’m going to grab the cash and drop it in the donor’s basket and just get it over with. I don’t like the idea of leaving it stuffed in a cupboard where anyone could find it – even though the chances are slim and besides that, once the money is dropped off, there’s nothing tying me here and right now all I really want is to go home. At least this way if Mrs. Dubois does catch sight of me I can tell her that I just came by to drop off a small donation; I just hope she doesn’t notice how small of a donation it is because she’d have to know that $10,000 is a drop in the bucket for Gideon Lambert, and then I’ll almost certainly get tied up as she roots around in my business with her over-powdered nose.
It feels like it takes forever for my tray to empty this time, but when a hand reaches out and finally swipes that last glass of champagne I head back to the kitchen. As I’m about to be handed a second tray, once again packed full of half full glasses, I excuse myself to the bathroom, grab my purse from the cupboard and head back out to the main hall. No one questions why I am heading in to the main hall rather than the bathrooms that are tucked in the back for use by the “help.” To be honest I doubt anyone cares, it’s only me who feels like I’m on a mission, a secret agent dropping off a top secret package and hoping not to get caught in the act.