The flashbulbs nearly blinded her. Every photographer and paparazzo in New York had to have been lined up along either side of the red carpet. She went deer in the headlights as Mason got out of the car behind her.
“What’s the matter?” he whispered in her ear.
“You didn’t tell me we were going to THE Met event. Thanks for downplaying the pomp of this thing.” She managed a strained smile as a few of the paps yelled questions about who Mason was with and if she was his girlfriend, and all of the usual prying questions.
The Acquisitions Fund Benefit was put on annually to raise money for new exhibits, to give members a sneak peak of how they put their collections together, and to showcase the research involved in choosing each exhibit. It was a swanky event for a girl who was happy with a warm beer at a Red Sox game.
“Come on. The longer you stand here the worse you’ll feel. Let’s get inside.” He rested his hand on her lower back and gave a gentle nudge. It took a moment, but finally, Laura remembered how to walk again.
Mason hurried her inside, away from the circus on the sidewalk.
As the doors closed behind them, Laura let out the breath she had been holding. She was more than a little peeved that Mason hadn’t told her all of the details. “Why didn’t you tell me exactly what this was? I feel like I was just fed to the lions!” she chided. “Thanks a lot, Mase!”
He rested his hands on her shoulders. Tears glistened in her eyes as she stared. “I am so sorry. I figured you knew. It was in all the papers last week.” Suddenly it dawned on him that she had been in a bubble with her own publication the entire week before. “I’m a twat. Forgive me.” He pulled her in for a hug. He hated seeing her cry.
“I’ll be okay. I think the nerves just have me all strung out right now. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” In fact, just being inside made her feel calmer.
Mason held out his elbow for her and led her through the lobby into the giant function room. Laura’s jaw dropped. The room was lit by hundreds of electric candles. Shades of red and gold played with the light in the space, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of old Chinese opium dens. Round tables for ten stretched out across the dark hardwood floor in every direction. There was space set for hundreds of people; she had never seen a function room for so many.
A server stopped to offer them both a flute of champagne, which Laura gladly accepted and downed in one gulp. Liquid courage it was for the evening.
“Let’s pace ourselves on the refreshments, hmmm?” Mason remarked after Laura swallowed a second glass.
“Sorry. I’m trying to settle my nerves.”
“Sit down. I’ll get you something to eat before you go too crazy. The champagne here is expensive. I’d hate to see it wasted.” He held out a chair at the nearest table. Laura sat, but felt a little petulant about it. She wasn’t appreciating being told what to do in this type of setting.
“So the menu for tonight is a contrived six course affair provided by an up and coming fusion chef whose name I can’t pronounce. I’m pretty sure I recognized the words chicken and some kind of mixture made from pomegranates?”
Laura giggled. The champagne bubbles had reached her head, yes, but the thing she loved most about Mason was that, despite the money and notoriety, he was still the same bloke from Western Massachusetts she knew who would go cow tipping with his buddies and hike the Berkshires with her. Money hadn’t changed him at all.
“I love you,” she blurted out.
Mason smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll believe you when you tell me without being liquored up first.” They had never discussed her slip on Skype from the week before. He decided to just let her think he didn’t hear her and let her say the words again on her own terms. Champagne not included.
“Can we go back to my apartment tonight? You haven’t seen my sweet pad in Brooklyn yet.”
The appetizers arrived. It looked like some kind of pate smeared on a water cracker with a chive on top. “I’d love to.” He turned up his nose, “So this is what forty-five hundred bucks gets you. I hope the entrée is a little more substantial.” Mason shook his head. He came every year because he was a member and loved the museum, but the absurdities always got to him.
“If not, there’s always one of the umpteen pizza parlors open late to grab a slice and beer.” Laura bit into one of the hors d’ouerves. The flavor was a little flat, but she was starving and hated being drunk, so she inhaled every bite on her plate and Mason’s like a goddamn lady.
“Do you want to dance, my little garbage disposal?”
“I’d love to. Turd.”
She accepted his outstretched hand. This was her Eliza Doolittle moment, an average, no frills girl having her time to hob nob with the upper crust. It was something she’d never thought she’d even get a glimpse of, let alone experience firsthand.
The band picked up the tempo, and she let Mason lead. She really had no idea what she was doing, but he made her feel light as a feather. The fabric of her gown fluttered and billowed as they circled around the dance floor. “I feel like Cinderella.”
“You should, except you won’t change back after midnight.” He dipped his head to tenderly kiss her. She closed her eyes as his lips coaxed hers apart. She held onto his hand and waist for dear life as her legs became useless beneath her.
Mason slowly ended the kiss as the music ended. Laura’s eyelids were heavy as she opened them. Mason was only a few inches from her with an emotional look on his face.
“What?” she asked. His stare was making her self-conscious.
“Nothing. I just wanted to tell you that I love you too.”
Just like that, Laura had the most romantic moment of her entire life, of anybody’s life, really. The glow of the candlelight, the chamber music, the fact that she was in a stunning gown made every fairy tale with a prince and a princess she had ever read come to life in that very moment.
Mason reached up to cup her face and touch his forehead to hers. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Laura. I never married in the hopes that one day you would come back to me. Now that you have, I never want to let you go.”
The flash of a camera as a paparazzo ran by and the rumble of Laura’s stomach completely shattered the mood. Both she and Mason had a good belly laugh at the awkwardness.
“We should probably go get that pizza now. Do you think anyone will mind if I show up in a couture gown?”
“Only if they won’t mind my ordering in this monkey suit. Let’s get out of here. They only really needed the donation anyway.” He planted one more quick peck on her lips and led her out of the room. Laura’s boss would be so disappointed if he found out she hadn’t stayed long or talked to anybody.
Chapter Fifteen
“Roebling’s pizza. Brooklyn, please.” Laura slid into the backseat of the car in a hurry. Her mouth watered, and she could practically taste the cheesy goodness. “Mason, come on, I’m starving.”
Mason slipped in next to her with a puzzled look on his face and handed her an envelope.
“What’s this?”
“I have no idea. It was tucked under the wiper blade and has your name on it.”
“Huh? Whatever it is can wait. I want to get going.”
“Suit yourself.”
The car pulled off and headed towards Brooklyn. “I’m going to call in the order for pickup. My feet are killing me, and I just want to be home already. Does that work for you?”
“By all means.” He started to undo his bowtie. “The sooner I can strip this thing off the better.”
“I agree. Rowr.”
Laura lowered the privacy partition. “I’m going to call in a pizza order. Would you mind running in to grab it for me when we get there? I’d rather not risk drawing attention to myself in this dress.”
“Absolutely, Miss Ross. That won’t be a problem.”
“Great. I’m going to give them my card number over the phone, so all you have to do is sign the slip.”
&n
bsp; “Will do, Miss Ross.”
“Thank you!” She hit the button to raise the partition again and turned to Mason. “You know, I have no idea what his name is, and that makes me feel rude and like an idiot. What is it?”
Mason smiled. “I call him by his last name, Smith, but his first name is Greg.”
“Great. Thanks. I was too embarrassed to ask him in case he had told it to me at one point and I forgot.”
They rode along in silence the rest of the way. Mason rested his head in Laura’s lap so she could play with his thick, dark hair.
The mood was relaxed, as if they had been together forever, with no time lost at all. Somehow in the midst of the whirlwind, Laura had forgiven him. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but she was glad it had.
The driver tapped on the partition. Laura lowered the glass for him.
“We’re here, Miss Ross. What did you order so I know what I’m getting?”
“A small primavera and two cans of Coke. Thanks, Greg.”
Greg smiled and tipped his cap before running into the restaurant. He returned within five minutes with their food and handed it back through the window. “Where to now, Miss Ross?”
“Printhouse Apartments, 10th Street, Brooklyn, please.”
Greg nodded and pulled away.
“Wake up, Prince Charming. We’ll be home in a couple of minutes.” She gently shook her sleeping lap warmer.
“I’m awake.” He sniffed the air. “Oh, that pizza smells like heaven.”
The car came to a stop, and the engine died. Greg opened their door to let them out.
“Thanks, Smith. You can head home. I won’t need you tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
The driver tipped his hat and headed home.
The four-story stair climb in heels was the worst idea Laura had ever had, but the elevator was closed for maintenance. By the time they reached her apartment, her knees and lower back were screaming.
“Hold this, please.” Laura handed Mason the pizza and still unopened envelope to fish her keys out of her clutch. She was so proud of that tiny black bag because it was a genuine vintage Prada she had found for next to nothing at a secondhand shop.
“Just put the food on the counter,” she called over her shoulder as the door swung in. “I’ll give you the humble tour in a min–” Something felt wrong.
The tiny industrial apartment looked the same as when she had left that afternoon, but something was off. She peered to the left towards the living room. The blinds were still closed and not a knick-knack was disturbed. The kitchen still had her dirty cereal bowl on the counter from that morning. Everything was as she had left it.
“Is everything all right? You look tense.”
Laura exhaled. She felt silly. Maybe it was because she had been spending so little time there in recent weeks that just the overall vibe was becoming unfamiliar.
“Yeah. I just need to spend more time at home. I feel like I accidentally walked into a stranger’s apartment.” She pushed the door all the way open. “Come on in and make yourself at home. I’m going to go change.”
She kicked off her heels with a sigh. Her feet and back sighed with relief as well. She knew she would have to soak in the tub later to loosen up all of the tendons in her lower half.
She still felt something weird when she crossed the threshold into her bedroom, but again, nothing had been touched. So she undressed and changed into her favorite pair of sweats. They were red with the Boston Red Sox logo emblazoned on one leg. They were a gift from one of her past conquests, but they were the most comfortable pair of pants she owned, so throwing them away wasn’t an option. She slipped a white, thin-strapped tank on and went to take down her hair.
She silently thanked her stylist for managing to put her mop up with only six pins, and when she raked her fingers through to loosen the length, it fell into nearly perfect Victoria’s Secret hair. “Joss, you are an evil genius,” she whispered to her reflection. She would have to tip him big next time she saw him.
She sauntered out to the kitchen. Her stomach was not going to put up with another delay. “Go ahead and change, Mase. I may have a pair of sweatpants you can change into. Check the top drawer.” She giggled at the thought of him in any one of the girlie colors in the rainbow that was her pajama drawer.
She lifted the lid on the pizza box and breathed deep, the aroma of tomatoes and peppers intoxicating. She was about to tuck in when she noticed a second envelope on her counter. The only markings on it were the letters of her name, typed using an old typewriter.
Remembering she still had the one from the car, she slid that one out from under the pizza box and opened that one first. Another torn and ragged old book page floated out of the envelope onto the granite. Feeling curious, she opened the yellowed paper.
You left me, sweet, two legacies, –
A legacy of love
A Heavenly Father would content,
Had He the offer of;
You left me boundaries of pain
Capacious as the sea,
Between eternity and time,
Your consciousness and me.
Confused, she tore into the second envelope, far less neatly than she had the first one.
Ah! ever I behold
Thy dreamy, passionate eyes,
Blue as the languid skies
Hung with the sunset's fringe of gold;
Now strangely clear thine image grows,
And olden memories
Are startled from their long repose
Like shadows on the silent snows
When suddenly the night-wind blows
Where quiet moonlight lies.
Like music heard in dreams,
Like strains of harps unknown,
Of birds for ever flown,–
Audible as the voice of streams
That murmur in some leafy dell,
I hear thy gentlest tone,
And Silence cometh with her spell
Like that which on my tongue doth dwell,
When tremulous in dreams I tell
My love to thee alone!
In every valley heard,
Floating from tree to tree,
Less beautiful to me,
The music of the radiant bird,
Than artless accents such as thine
Whose echoes never flee!
Ah! how for thy sweet voice I pine:–
For uttered in thy tones benign
(Enchantress!) this rude name of mine
Doth seem a melody!
The Poe poem was incomplete. It must have had a first page that didn’t say what the sender needed to be said.
Still confused, Laura rummaged through her purse for the first poem from earlier that day. The words of Oscar Wilde, Emily Dickinson, and Edgar Allan Poe all taunted her, daring her to piece a meaning together.
“Mason! Can you come out here please?”
Mason strutted out of the bedroom in a pair of teeny tiny teal blue gym shorts. He posed and postured, but fell deadly serious when he saw Laura’s confused expression. “What is it?”
“Did you send these poems to me?”
Mason walked over to the counter and examined the musty pages. “No. I didn’t. I don’t even like Oscar Wilde. Where did these come from?”
“The Wilde poem was from earlier this afternoon at the office. The Dickinson one was left on the car, and the Edgar Allen Poe poem was here on my countertop. I knew something didn’t feel right when we walked in. I figured you must have left them as, I don’t know, some sort of an atonement letter or something romantic somehow. You had sent gifts to the office before, so I didn’t think anything of the poems until now.”
She stared at the pages again, trying desperately to figure out what these three pieces meant and who possibly could have sent them to her.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t stay here tonight. I’ll just call Smith to come back and get us. We can stay at my flat tonight. I don’t want you remaining here in case whoe
ver dropped by decides to again.” Mason started back towards the bedroom to retrieve his clothes and cellphone. “Feel free to pack for as long as you need to until we can figure this thing out.”
Laura nodded. A shiver ran up her spine. Whoever this was had seriously violated her. She wracked her brain trying to remember if she’d seen the envelope on the counter that morning or not. Before that she had spent two days at Mason’s, so she had no clue how long that envelope had been there.
“Look me in the eyes right now. I’m going to ask you one more time: did you leave these poems for me as some sort of prank to rile me up? Because I am not fucking amused.”
“Laura, I swear on everything I have ever loved that I had nothing to do with those.”
Chapter Sixteen
“You want to go where for Christmas?” The clock had been ticking down to the holidays, and Laura Ross was being offered a chance to take an extended vacation through the entire month of December.
“I’d like to take you to Switzerland. Is your passport up to date?” Mason Decker was hoping Laura would take some time for a romantic getaway.
“Mason, I always go see my parents for the holidays. It’s the only time of the year I can get away to see them. It will crush my parents if I bail.”
“Then they can come too.” Mason’s ice blue eyes twinkled with excitement. They were finally at a point in their relationship where he could get her to leave New York for a bit.
Mason always shut down operations for the two weeks of Christmas and New Year’s. This gave his employees uninterrupted family time and him the opportunity to get out of the sleet and cold for a while. He was hoping to extend that to the whole month.
“I don’t know. Dad has his back issue…”
“I’ll give him a call then and see if he and your mum would be up to a flight to Europe.” He held his breath in the hopes she would take the bait.
“Mason, please! I’m not sure I can get away that long, and my dad hates to fly!” A lie, sure, but the reality was she wasn’t so sure if she was ready to spend all that time playing house with him again.
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