The Bride of Willow Creek(71)

“Stop,” Angie said, returning to reality with a jolt. “Sam, don’t eat that.”

Puzzled, he glanced down at his fork hovering above a wedge of fudge cake. “Why not?”

“Daisy.”

“Daisy?”

“We promised we’d bring her cake if cake was served.” But how would they get it home?

“We promised?”

Angie leaned to his ear and cupped a hand around her mouth. “We have to steal our napkins.” Sam drew back to stare at her, but she pulled him close again. “Wrap your piece of cake in your napkin for Lucy. I’ll wrap mine for Daisy.”

“Angelina. Exactly how much champagne have you drunk?”

“A lot,” she said after considering the question. She gazed into his eyes and decided she had never seen a bluer blue. “I’ll be your lookout.” The dining room was crowded with chattering guests, but she didn’t think anyone was watching them. “Quick. Put your plate in your lap and wrap the cake in your napkin. I’ll do mine now, too.”

Sam glanced around the room, then sighed and put his cake plate in his lap. But that was as far as he went. Angie had to wrap both pieces of cake and hide them in her bag. She put their empty plates back on the table and reached for her champagne glass.

“So far, so good.”

“Maybe you’ve had enough champagne.”

“Now then. See the favors?” Before each place setting was a three-inch-tall sculpture of the hotel’s facade, molded out of colored sugar. “We need four of those. Our two and two more.”

“Angie . . .”

“For Molly, Tilly, Abby, and Dorothy.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink and leaned into his ear again. “We’ll each have to steal our neighbor’s favor.”

“And then what? We steal the silver and a plate or two?”

“Just the cake and the favors. When Mrs. Finn is talking to her husband, snatch her favor. Or wait. Maybe all we have to do is ask.” To test the idea, she turned to the man on her right and tapped his arm with her fan. When he shifted to look at her, she gave him a dazzling dimpled smile. “I’d like to have your favor please. The little sugar hotel front? I need it, so please give it to me.”

The man blinked, then his eyebrows lifted and he glanced beyond her at Sam. But he gave Angie his favor. She thanked him then turned her back and added the favor to the two in her bulging bag. “You see?” Now she gave Sam the dazzling dimpled smile.

He stared, then laughed and pushed back from the table. “My dear Mrs. Holland, I think it’s time we got you home and away from waiters pouring champagne.”

“No, no. Not yet.” Distress widened her eyes. “We need one more favor!”

Sam opened his hand below the table level and smiled.

“You got it! Excellent.” She tucked the fourth favor into her bag then let him help her to her feet. “We must find our host and hostess and thank them for a lovely evening.”

Sam cupped her elbow and led her to the cloakroom off the lobby. “We’ll send a note.” He dropped her evening cape over her shoulders. “I’m glad I didn’t keep the carriage. Walking home in the fresh air will do us both good.”

Before they left, Angie took a last admiring look at the hotel lobby. “It’s truly magnificent! I don’t want to forget a single detail.”

Sam studied her shining eyes and flushed cheeks. Tonight she had been incandescent, luminous. Radiant with happiness, she’d drawn every eye. Even trying her best to appear formally serene and dignified, Angie projected a charming exuberance. She couldn’t stay still. She clapped her gloves together when something pleased or amazed her. She tapped her foot to the music and her shoulders swayed slightly. Her dimples flashed and winked.

Taking her arm, he led her outside and assisted her with the steep climb to Carr Street, listening as she asked if he had seen this or overheard that. Did he think the flower vases were Chinese porcelain as someone had said? Was it true there was a penthouse suite on the top floor? What color, exactly, were the marble tiles in the lobby, and how many musicians had been on the ballroom dais?

She threw out her arms and spun in a circle while he opened the front door. “Oh Sam! It was a wonderful evening!”

“I still hear bubbles in your voice.” Laughing, he went inside and lit the lamp on the kitchen table, then grinned when she danced inside, her arms lifted to an imaginary partner. For the first time in his life, Sam wished he could dance. When she twirled past him, he caught her cape from her shoulders and dropped it across the back of a chair. On her next pass, she tossed him her bag and he set it on the table.