“Oh, I know. And I guess you won’t need anything now, right? You’re set.”
It was a good thing that the elevator slowed and jerked to a soft halt at that moment, giving Scarlett the quick dizzy spell that reminded her that they were dangling from a cable hundreds and hundreds of feet above the ground. She wanted to get off as quickly as possible, but she was behind Lola, who was moving at a dignified, leisurely pace. Lola stepped off to the side to make some adjustment to her dress, and Boonz and her party drifted past, barely containing their laughter.
“I’m going to take a wild guess,” Spencer said in a low voice. “I’m going to say those are Chip’s friends.”
Scarlett was clinging to his sleeve for balance as her head caught up with her altitude.
“It could have been worse,” she managed to reply. “Lola could have married one of them.”
Lola finished her imaginary alterations and pasted a serene smile on her face.
“Let’s just wait for Mom, Dad, and Marlene,” she said. Scarlett could tell that she was nervous, that the encounter on the elevator had rattled her a bit, but she was doing everything she could to hide the fact.
One of the other elevator doors opened a moment later, and Marlene and Scarlett’s parents were deposited. All six Martins made their way down the hall. In front of them, there was a wall made entirely of crystal, illuminated by the rosy glow of untold numbers of candles just beyond it. The room it guarded stretched out and around the building, so its size couldn’t really be determined except to say that it was Very Large. There were dozens and dozens of tables topped with what looked like thousands of candles and creamy white flowers. The windows were floor to ceiling, with views directly out to the tops of other skyscrapers. On one side, there was a glass wall that led to a rooftop garden…but not like the one Naked Rooftop Lady had next door to their house. This was a mini Versailles-worthy affair. Next to that, there was a stage where a swing band was poised and ready to play, and a massive dance floor. An army of waiters and waitresses buzzed around with pastel-colored cocktails and ornate snacks that Scarlett couldn’t even identify. Only a handful of people had arrived.
“Lola!”
A couple approached them. Even though she had never met the Sutcliffes before, Scarlett could have easily picked them out of a lineup. Mrs. Sutcliffe had smoky-brown hair cut into a severe midlength bob and a surprisingly friendly face, even though her skin didn’t look like it quite fit her skull. It was like a too-small piece was stretched over her features and maybe attached by a piece of elastic in the back. She wore a beautifully cut, very simple black dress and a large necklace of white beads, each one the size of a gum ball. Mr. Sutcliffe was a bit of a silver fox in a gray suit with deeply tan skin that looked as hard as shoe leather. Neither of them actually looked at all like Chip.
“My goodness, you are stunning!” Mrs. Sutcliffe said, examining her new daughter-in-law like she was looking over a horse she was considering buying. If you were just looking for good genes and someone to take to parties, you could do far worse than Lola, and her expression reflected that. Also, her voice was deep. If Scarlett had heard her over the phone, she would have mistaken her for a man. A man with a beard.
“Chip is in the smoking lounge waiting for you so you can make your entrance,” Mr. Sutcliffe said. He also sounded manly. And a little drunk. Not a lot drunk, but a slow, easy, expensive whiskey or two drunk. He probably wasn’t. He was just so rich that Scarlett expected he always sounded like that. He offered Lola an arm, and she was taken away.
“Come see the cake,” Mrs. Sutcliffe said in her manly way.
In the middle of the room, right on the edge of the dance floor, was what appeared to be a large model boat. It was long and black, perfect in every detail, right down to the life preservers. And it was deeply, repulsively ugly.
Spencer ran his tongue over his teeth, but made no comment.
“It’s a boat,” Scarlett’s mom said. “How unique.”
“Yes. It’s our boat. We know how much it means to them.”
Scarlett’s parents no doubt recognized the boat. They quickly clasped their hands together for support. They were always doing lovey-dovey things like that. It was usually gross, but today it spoke of frustration.
“Your table is right over here,” Mrs. Sutcliffe added, guiding them to a table that couldn’t really be defined as central. It was sort of off in the corner, near the sushi station. They were deposited there and left alone. They watched as more suited and stiffly dressed people drifted in and right over to the Sutcliffes.
“Everyone here is old,” Marlene said.