They chatted on the ride uptown. He was always easy company even if they weren’t in love. Over the past two years their relationship had evolved slowly, more toward friendship than romance. They both knew they had no future together although they didn’t talk about it. She had talked to Marcy about him, and she reminded Spencer that continuing to date Bill was keeping her from meeting someone she might really care about. She was wasting years if she really didn’t love him. Spencer knew that they’d have to stop seeing each other one of these days, but she wasn’t quite ready to let go yet, and she wasn’t on the hunt for a serious relationship. Her life seemed full enough as it was, and love seemed like such a high-risk endeavor. In a way, dating Bill kept her from taking any risks, which suited her.
When they got to the Met, they walked up the long flight of stone steps to the main door, where security guards and young men in tuxedos were checking people in from a list. They had Spencer’s name and Bill’s, checked them off, and wished them a good evening. There was a crowd of people just inside the main door, waiting to go up another flight of stairs. It took a few minutes to filter through the crowd, to the French Impressionist wing where the party was being held. Spencer noticed the beautiful gowns the women were wearing and was happy she had picked the gold dress. It felt appropriate in the crowd.
Many of the guests were older, as big donors often were. She saw a number of familiar faces she knew from the press, including the mayor and a senator, and several socialites, some of whom she knew were customers at Brooke’s. There was no one she knew well enough to go up and speak to. Bill went to get them each a glass of champagne at the bar. There were round tables set up, laden with silver and crystal and fine china, seating charts in various locations so you could find your seat, and there was a dance floor and a band set up. There would be dancing after dinner, which Spencer hadn’t expected. She thought the invitation was only for dinner. She hadn’t been to a party with dancing in several years. It always reminded her of how much she had loved dancing with her grandfather when she was a little girl.
Bill returned with their champagne and handed her glass to her, as Spencer continued to look around. Bill told her about the famous actress he’d seen at the bar. As she listened, she noticed a tall handsome man with a neatly cut mane of dark hair. He was looking at her, and he smiled. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t think of who he was. A moment later he disappeared into the crowd. The woman at his side was holding a martini and vanished with him.
They milled around with the other guests for an hour and moved toward the tables just before nine o’clock. Everything was on schedule and running smoothly. She and Bill consulted one of the signs on an easel and saw where their table was located. They had been given escort cards at the door when they checked in, and she’d been reassured to see that they were at the same table, but she saw on the chart that they weren’t seated together and were on opposite sides of a table for twelve. She didn’t bother to read the other names, since she didn’t know them anyway.
When she and Bill got to their table, she was surprised to see that the tall dark-haired man was seated next to her. The men were all standing, waiting for the women to be seated. Spencer noticed that the dark-haired man’s companion was seated next to Bill on the opposite side. Husbands and wives and couples who had come together were seated at the same tables, but not side by side. The man smiling down at her still looked familiar. She knew she had seen him somewhere but couldn’t remember where. She had a feeling it might have been at the store.
Spencer was seated at the head table, to the right of the dark-haired man. He was impeccably dressed in a tailor-made tuxedo she guessed had been made for him in London. She could recognize a custom-made suit anywhere. He introduced himself as Mike, they shook hands, and she sat down and glanced at the place card in front of him, as all the men took their seats, since the last of the women had taken theirs. Her eyes opened wide when she saw the name “Mr. Weston” on his place card, and she stared at him in disbelief, just as she remembered where she’d seen him. It had been at the store. He was Mike Weston, the potential investor she had refused to meet. For an instant, she thought about walking out before the dinner started, but she didn’t dare, it would have been too rude. She wondered if he had tricked her into coming, so he could convince her to let him invest in her business. If he had, she would have thought him a total boor to take advantage of a social situation to corner her. She was trapped, seated next to him at the table for the next several hours.
“Did you invite me tonight?” she asked him with a look of shocked disbelief, and he nodded.
“I did,” he confessed. “I just wanted to meet you, so you know I’m not a total savage. I actually met you once at the store, but I didn’t know who you were. I’m the Honorary Chair, this is a project I care a great deal about. And I give you my word of honor, I will not speak a word about business tonight. This is purely social. I thought you might enjoy it. If we never meet again, if that’s what you decide, I promise never to bother you again. I give you my word.” She was still staring at him, and she smiled at what he said. He was certainly determined and had given her free seats to a very expensive, glamorous event. She remembered him perfectly now.
“I’m going to hold you to it,” she said, “and if you break your promise, I’ll leave. But thank you for the very generous seats.” It had been an impressive gesture, and he was much more gentlemanly than she would have expected of Mike Weston, although she had heard that he was brilliant and charming, as well as clever in business. “You found a pair of brown suede shoes you liked but you didn’t buy them,” she said, remembering him distinctly. He had struck her as handsome then, and he had asked her if she liked working there.
“I went back and bought them the next day,” he said with a grin, surprised that she remembered. “I looked for you, but I didn’t see you. I thought you were some kind of floor manager or customer service person. I asked if you liked working there. You didn’t tell me you owned the store, and I didn’t know that was you until I saw you in a magazine. I remembered you too. Do you always walk around the store, talking to customers? And that’s not business, by the way, it’s curiosity, so I haven’t broken my word,” he reminded her, and she smiled. She was still stunned that he had invited her to the party so he could meet her, since she had refused to see him. It was a bold gesture, and very resourceful, and it worked. They were seated together, and she would be obliged to speak to him for the rest of the evening.
“I walk the whole store once a day, every morning, just as my grandfather did. He taught me to do that. It keeps me in touch with the customers and the staff on their toes. Keeping our customers happy is very important to me. And I’m always available if there’s a problem.” She lowered her voice then. “The First Lady shopped with us this week. We closed the store for her. She was very nice.” She sounded a little awestruck and he smiled. There was a sincerity and an innocence to her which touched him, and she looked even younger than he remembered, and exquisite in the gold dress. And he had expected her to be tougher since she had been so rigid and adamant about not meeting him, even to talk.
“That’s quite an honor,” he said admiringly, “and smart of you to close the store for her. The security issue must have been a nightmare.” She nodded agreement and didn’t comment, and she didn’t tell him about the senator’s wife who had stolen the bracelet and the clutch bag the next day. But she did mention the famous rock star and his wife the staff had stayed after hours for the next day. He was amused by that.
“You must meet a lot of interesting people,” he said, watching her. She was so beautiful it was distracting, and he had to concentrate on what she was saying. Spencer was wondering if the woman in the severe black dress with the serious expression sitting next to Bill was Mike’s date or his wife, but she didn’t ask.
Maureen didn’t look happy to be there, but she and Mike always went to big social events together. It was the only social life they still shared. They agreed that it seemed more respectable than going alone and kept up appearances with the social set.