Chapter 28: CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

February 24, 1990.

Layne asked Ra’Shelle for my sizes, and the next day a clothing box was delivered.

It’s an ankle-length, strapless a-line dress made of champagne-colored chiffon with a slit on the left side that ends just above my knee.

He’s also included matching ankle-strap kitten heels.

I guess I’ll be using those new dance moves after all.

I twirl and watch the fabric sway. I can’t remember the last time I wore a strapless bra, and I cross my fingers that it’s tight enough not to embarrass me on the dance floor.

“Wow,” he says when I open the door. “Just… wow. Marci did great.”

“Who’s Marci?”

“The saleswoman who realized I didn’t know anything about dresses. I knew it looked good on the hanger, but it’s jaw-dropping on you.”

He hands me a glass vase with a dozen roses, and I set them in the kitchen before returning to the bedroom to retrieve my clutch.

He follows me and stands behind me. “I got you something else.” He pulls a silver necklace from his coat pocket, and the pear-shaped diamond sapphire is so large that my jaw drops. He slips it over my head, then closes the clasp. The stone sets just above my dress.

“Layne,” I whisper, “this is gorgeous.”

“There’s more,” he says, taking a jewelry box from his pocket. He opens it, and a pair of diamond and sapphire chandelier earrings shine in the light.

I replace my silver hoops, and Layne hugs me from behind, placing his chin on my shoulder. “You’re breathtaking.”

“I barely recognize myself. This feels weird, Layne.”

“What does, baby?”

“I’m wearing this when we’re about to go to a gala for a charity. A charity, Layne.”

“Trust me, Sam, this extravagance will pay off.”

“Are you saying jealousy motivates philanthropy?”

“Something like that.” He kisses my shoulder. “Come on, beautiful.”

***

When we arrive, Layne gives the valet his keys and a hundred-dollar bill.

“How are you, Layne?” the valet asks.

“Good, Barney. How’s the family?”

“Fredrika is starting high school next year. Can you believe that?”

“I can’t,” Layne says. “Barney, I’d like you to meet my fiance, Sam Lawrence.”

Barney tips his hat. “How are you, ma’am?”

“Good, but you can just call me Sam.”

Layne says, “We’ll likely be in the last group to leave.”

“Great. Have a good time, Layne.”

“You know the valet?” I ask as Layne holds open the door.

“I know everyone, Sam.”

“What was the line about us being with the last group?”

He rolls his eyes. “Too many people tell the valet ‘Keep it close’,” he mocks in a falsetto. “They can’t keep every car close. That’s my way of telling Barney I don’t care where he parks it. I can wait.”

“Isn’t that kind of you.”

“I feel like it’s just common decency; it’s just that there’s less common decency in society these days.”

I wag my finger and mockingly say, “Back in my day, we knew how to treat good people. We weren’t telling people to park our cars nearby. No! We parked our own cars. No! We didn’t even have cars. We–”

He kisses my cheek. “All right, all right. You’ve made your point. Let’s grab a drink and check out the silent auction.”

Holding a flute of champagne I don’t want, I place my fingers on the crook of Layne’s elbow and let him guide me around the tables. “Do you buy any of these things?” I ask as I read the sales pitch cards for the items.

“I buy very few things, but I bid on most.”

I furrow my brow. “Why?”

He points at a picture and information sheet for a vacation in Tahiti. “This package is worth seven thousand dollars. Ms. Tempis has bid five thousand. Now, the woman loves to win these vacations every year, but she always opens low because she wants to win for as little money as possible.” He picks up the pen next to the sheet. “But, this is a gala, not a yard sale.” He scribbles his name and bids sixty-nine hundred dollars. “Now, she’ll have to pay at least what the trip is worth.”

He gestures at the tables. “I do that with any item that I think will cause someone to raise their bid.” He winks at me. “And no one has ever caught on. They just think I want everything.”

I couldn’t have predicted that this would turn me on, but it absolutely does. “What about during the live auction?”

“I’m a little more cautious, but it’s been known to happen.”

“Ever won something you hated?”

“Rarely.”

“You’re telling me that you’ve perfected making rich people loosen their purse strings.”

He whispers in my ears, “You’re not the only one who can read and persuade people.”

His warm breath gives me chills. “I may have trouble making it through five hours of this.”

“I’ll do my best to repay you.”

A young woman with beige skin and blond hair approaches us. “Layne, it’s good to see you.”

“You too, Dani. This is my fiance, Sam.”

“Fiance? When did that happen?”

“Last year actually.”

“Good for you. Does she want one too?”

“Probably.”

She takes both of our flutes of champagne and scampers away.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I’m not a fan of champagne, nor driving home after I’ve been drinking, and I know you’re not either. However, when I try to drink water from a champagne flute, this crowd either assumes I’m an alcoholic or that I’m drinking straight vodka, and if I don’t have something in my hand, everyone tries to call over the server. Dani found a way around all that nonsense.”

When Dani returns with our glasses, I hesitantly take a sip. “Apple juice and seltzer?”

“None of the guests can tell a difference, and I can sip on it when I’m bored,” Layne says.

“Perfect system,” Dani adds.

Layne slips her a hundred-dollar bill. “Check back in.”

“You got it, Layne.”

“You really do know everyone.”

“C’mon, Sam. These are my people. I’m never going to be best friends with Ms. Tempis or Ms. Dilinna. We don’t have the same values. Inheritance or not, my heart belongs to the valets and service staff.”

Warm feelings move through my torso. “I love you, Layne.”

We make our way to our table, and Layne sets down our glasses. “Then, may I have a dance?”

“I accept,” I say with a slight bow.

He snickers as we join the guests. We’ve joined during a slow song, and he holds me close as we sway. The next song is more lively, as is the following one, and we stay on the dance floor for more than half an hour.

“Those dance lessons are paying off,” he says when we begin a waltz.

“I still think I should have been allowed to dance the electric slide.”

“Maybe I’ll call them next year and tell them to add that to their repertoire along with the Brooklyn shuffle and the hustle.”

“Maybe you should. We could dress you up like Tony Manero, and you could show everyone how you can shake your hips.”

“I bet we could both rock some 1970s fashion and tear up the floor with all the dances that we practiced as teenagers.”

I spin away from him. “I’m reminding you of this conversation next January.”

“Deal,” he says, pulling me back.

When the song ends, the band leader says, “The silent auction closes in ten minutes, so we’re going to take a break. Don’t forget to bid and help the hospital.”

As we walk toward the auction tables, a woman, perhaps fifteen years our senior, walks quickly toward us. Her ochre skin is beautiful, but she’s applied far too much makeup, which makes her look older and vain. Her once-brown hair has been heavily highlighted, and I can’t imagine how much time she spends in a salon. Her outfit screams that she has too much money and too much concern about others’ opinions.

“Layne!” she calls. “Layne, I’m so glad I found you!”

We weren’t exactly hiding.

He subtly gestures for me to take his arm. “Bear with me,” he whispers. “This will be the most exhausting part of the evening.