Boone’s eyes stayed focused over my shoulder. “We’re a team in this, Clara. Like I told you last night, when it comes to you and your family, I’m always on your side. I’ll always have your back, no matter what has or will go down between us.”
I got it. It suddenly made sense . . . but this wasn’t the Boone of present tense I’d gotten to know. This was the Boone of past tense I remembered. The one who seemed selfish to the rest of the world, but I knew was the least selfish one out there. The one who would give anything, and do anything, for the few people he loved.
That realization startled me more than the confines of the dress wanted to allow.
“You’re doing this so I wouldn’t be the only lightning rod for pointing and laughter, aren’t you?” I asked, my voice having grown quiet.
“I just didn’t want you to be the only spectacle and have all the fun tonight.” He started to smile. “That’s all.”
For the first time since passing into the county, I felt so close to exhaling I could feel my lungs starting to contract. However, that was something else the dress wouldn’t allow. Not without ripping the seams at least.
“Well? Should we get this over with?” I turned toward the main dining room.
“No.” Boone shook his head as he came up beside me. “We should get this party started.” Holding out his elbow, he waited for me to weave my arm around it before he led us into the restaurant.
“In case you were wondering, lavender’s a good color on you.” I nudged him as we walked. “It really brings out the feminine in your character.”
He adjusted his bow tie so it was more crooked than straight. “Watch it there, peach cream puff, before I decide to call the debutante society and tell them you stole one of their gowns. From 1982.”
“You weren’t even alive in the eighties.”
“I’ve seen Madonna videos. Close enough,” he said as he climbed a couple of stairs before stepping foot in the lion’s den. Also called the dining room.
I’d been right in my estimation of close to one hundred guests. Some of them were milling about the room with their cocktails in hand, some were staggered around tables and chowing down on the seafood buffet, and some were making their way to the dance floor where a jazz band was playing a Sinatra tune. They were all dressed in varying degrees of semi-formal wear that was fitting given the event.
Boone and I were the only ones not in some version of a suit and tie or cocktail dress.
That might have been the reason why everyone was staring at us like we’d gotten the wrong address. When we continued to move through the room, playing ignorant to the blatant points and stares, guests’ gazes shifted in my dad’s direction, waiting to see what Quincy Abbott would do about the party crashers.
My dad just stood there, continuing to carry on his conversation with the guy who’d been mayor when I’d been in high school and pretending like Boone and his daughter walking arm-in-arm through a roomful of his esteemed guests wasn’t about to send him through the roof. I knew better. I could tell by the way he was clutching his glass of bourbon so tightly it looked like it was about to shatter.
“Looks like you and my dad made some progress in the growing-to-like-each-other department.”
“Oh, tons.” Boone twisted his index and middle finger together. “We’re like this now.”
“You and Ford too apparently.” I nodded at the table where Ford was sitting with a crowd of his friends. Most of them were moving on from gaping at us to getting back to their drinks and bullshitting, but Ford was still staring at us, his mouth looking like he’d just bitten into a wedge of lemon.
“He was the one who informed me of the club policy regarding course attire, a fact he only brought up once we were there, and he’s the same one who had some jackass in the pro shop lay out this getup for me in the dressing room.”
I returned Ford’s glare for a second before getting back to ignoring him. “You guys always were best friends.”
Boone snorted, weaving us through clusters of guests toward the dance floor. “Always. But at least he footed the bill for this stuff. Someone would have had to pay me to take this stuff off of their hands, but I wasn’t going to let them get rid of me so easily. I don’t think they figured I’d call their bluff today. You should have seen their faces when I stepped out onto the green in this.” Boone chuckled. “Priceless.”
“And you golfed all eighteen holes too?” The few people who had been on the dance floor promptly left it when they noticed Boone and me heading there.
“Every last one.”
“How did that go?”
Boone huffed. “How grown men can justify wasting five hours smacking a tiny speckled ball with a piece of over-priced metal while trying to get it into a tight little hole is a hint that they aren’t getting laid enough. Or well enough when they do.”