by Krista Lakes
“Oh, I think I remember her now,” Jane replied. She watched the actress for a moment and then shook her head, obviously still not recognizing her. “I’ll go find us a table.”
“Lizzie, can you teach me some medical words?” Lydia asked, watching her hero smile for the cameras across the room. “Maybe I can be an adviser to the film or something.”
“I need a drink,” I said, looking around the lobby for an escape from my sister. There was supposed to be an open bar, and if I was going to deal with my sister going after Layla all night, I was going to need some alcohol.
Lydia didn’t even notice I had gone as I made my way to the bar. She just stared at her movie star dream with big eyes and hopeful sighs.
The bar was easy enough to find. It was where everyone was congregating. I looked around, taking in the sights. Everyone looked polished and rich. Lydia was right about me needing more mascara to fit in here. It felt like a very different world than the one of scrubs and stethoscopes I was comfortable with.
Jane waved to me from across the lobby as she and Lydia found a table. They were the only familiar faces in the crowd. I worked as a Cardiac ICU nurse, and the only reason I would ever interact with the people at this party was if they had a heart attack. I wasn’t quite sure I would ever fit in with this level of wealth, or given the amount of makeup I was forced to wear to be here if I even wanted to.
“Two martinis and one long island ice tea, please,” I informed the bartender once it was my turn. He quickly went to making my drinks as I waited patiently by the bar. I stood there, minding my own space when someone bumped directly into me, nearly knocking me over.
He was tall, dark, and handsome with eyes the color of the sea after a storm. I could have fallen in love with him right there, except for the dirty look he was shooting me. He glared at me like it was my fault for being in his way when he wasn’t looking where he was going.
It was typical entitled rich guy. He thought he owned the world. There was no way I was apologizing for his mistake, though, so I just smiled sweetly up at him. “Can I help you?”
He made an annoyed sound and continued on his way. It was a shame he was a jerk. The man was good looking, and if he was at this party, probably rich. Unfortunately, he was obviously way too full of himself to apologize. He walked away with more swagger than any man deserved. Especially after being the bumper, not the bumpee.
My drinks arrived, and I managed to carry all three of them over the table without spilling. Lydia took a big sip while Jane thanked me.
“What should we do next?” I asked, taking a sip of my drink. It was nice and strong. I was going to have a great night.
“Let’s go look at the silent auction,” Jane suggested. “We can bid on the items while they’re still in our price range and feel like we’re helping to raise funds for the hospitals.”
I chuckled. The silent auction was going to be full of things we could never hope to afford, but it still sounded like fun to go and see what they had.
“You two can do that,” Lydia said, picking up her already half-empty drink and looking around the room. “I’m going to go mingle. I need to make friends with Layla.”
“Good luck,” I replied as she fluffed her hair. She put her chin up and walked away with a mission.
“Do you think she’ll find someone to make her famous?” Jane asked.
“She’ll probably have as much luck at it as we will winning something from the auction,” I replied with a shake of my head. I wasn’t betting on either.
Chapter 2
“Lizzie, it’s a Gustave Loiseau,” Jane gasped, her hand to her mouth as she stared in wonder at lot number 327 of the auction. A lovely seascape hung on the wall. I could almost smell the warm sea air coming from the white sandy cliffs.
“It’s very nice,” I told her. I had no idea who the artist was, but whoever he was impressed Jane. Art was her thing, not mine, but I could see the love in her eyes for the small painting. It was more than just something lovely to look at for her. It was an expression of life itself.
“Are you sure I can’t borrow twenty thousand dollars?” Jane asked, not taking her eyes from the painting. “This would look amazing in our living room.”
“I have twenty dollars, and I’ll buy you a print,” I told her with a gentle smile. “Because you are right. It would look amazing in the living room.”
Jane sighed and kept staring at the painting. Paintings, specifically old French ones, were her passion. When she wasn’t working at her painting restoration job at the museum, she volunteered at the New York Met and taught art classes to children on the side. I wished I had the funds to purchase something like this for her. She would be one of the few people in the world to really appreciate it.
“There’s a Monet over there,” I told her, pointing to the next auction lot.
“Oh, I need to be rich,” she murmured, her eyes lighting up as she moved to the next painting. “It’s so perfect.”
I chuckled and followed behind her as she joined a man inspecting the small painting. I paused to check the price tag on the Loiseau just in case. It was so far out of my price range that just looking at it hurt. The only way I would ever get Jane nice art was at the art museum gift shop.
“Look at the way he captures the light and the movement of the water,” Jane said to the man, thinking he was me. Her hand moved through the air to demonstrate.
“The individual brush strokes are so beautiful,” the man replied, motioning to the painting. He looked to be about the same age as Jane. “Precise, and yet imperfect.”
Jane’s eyes lit up as she turned to the man. “Yes! That’s what makes a Monet a Monet. He was the first to use this style.”
The man grinned at her, thrilled at finding a kindred soul. “What do you think about his use of color in his later paintings?”
That’s when I carefully turned away. If he was going to ask Jane about one of her favorite topics, there was no way I was going to interrupt them. I knew very little about art compared to Jane, so I knew I wouldn’t be able to contribute to the conversation anyway.
I wandered the auction a bit longer. There were some things that I was actually interested in. An antique writing journal, some glass earrings, and a massage at a local spa. They weren’t bid on yet, so I had a chance to win them. I was considering the journal as a gift for my father. If I could win it, it would make the perfect gift for the upcoming Christmas.
I chewed on my bottom lip as I looked into the small box containing the journal. It was leather bound with elegant aging script inside, and the information card stated it was from the eighteenth century. It was definitely something my Georgian Era enthusiast collector of a father would love.
I wanted Jane’s opinion on the journal before I bid, though. She knew my father well since we’d grown up together. He’d basically adopted her as one of his own kids after her parents died a few years ago. She would know if it was the right gift.
I found her at the Monet painting still talking with the man from before. Her eyes were bright with excitement, and she had a look I only saw on her face while she was working. It was delighted bliss.
“Lizzie,” she called to me as I approached. “I’d like you to meet Charles Bingley. He’s an art fan. Charles, this is my roommate, Elizabeth.”
The man held out his hand. He was tall and thin with reddish hair and an eager smile. He looked like something out of one of Jane’s art books he was so handsome. His handshake was firm yet gentle, and there was a kind sparkle in his eyes.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I told him. Something about his name tickled my memory. “Wait, are you the Charles Bingley that just bought those old hotels?”
“Guilty,” he admitted. He glanced around the hotel. “Don’t tell the competition I’m here.”
I chuckled, already liking him. “You wouldn’t also happen to be renting a penthouse near 96th by any chance, would you?”
“How did you guess?” he asked. His green eyes were s
urprised but happy. “I only just moved in.”
“That’s my building,” Jane told him, her smile getting bigger. Her hand fluttered near her necklace with excitement. “You moved into my building.”
Charles grinned wider. “Then I think I made an excellent choice. We can have more discussions about Monet. I’d love to get your perspective on Degas addition to the field.”
Jane grinned and made a small excited noise. She was usually so reserved with her emotions that just that giggle and smile was the equivalent of jumping up and down and whooping with joy.
“If you like art, Jane will talk your ear off,” I told him. “She’s a painter herself.”
“What? You didn’t tell me that,” Charles said, turning back to Jane.
“I dabble,” she replied with a small shrug. “I restore art. Sometimes, I paint.”
“Painting is my real love, too.” Charles looked at her like he’d won the lottery. He had to shake himself slightly so he could stop staring at her. “Unfortunately, I’m not very good at it yet, so I can’t quit my day job.”
“If what I’ve read is correct, you happen to be very good at your day job,” I said, trying to keep the conversation going. If I didn’t say something, the two of them were going to just stare and smile at one another. “You own a hotel chain and several nightclubs.”
Charles nodded. “Yes. But, I would love just to paint.”
“I’d love that, too,” Jane told him. She blushed hard. “I mean, someday, I’d like just to paint.”
Charles’ eyes went back to her, and it was like they were the only two people in the entire room. I could have sworn I heard Cupid’s arrow whoosh past me on it’s way to the two of them. They both grinned at one another.
“Did you see the Loiseau?” Charles asked Jane.
“I did, but I’d love to hear your thoughts on it,” Jane replied breathlessly. I knew it wasn’t just a line. She really did want to hear what he had to say.
I chuckled and took a quiet step back. I was forgotten by the two of them, and I was very okay with that. Jane looked happier than I’d seen in a long time. She looked comfortable walking around with Charles, despite the fact that I knew she didn’t like crowds much.
She was lost to her art, and he was right there with her. The crowd didn’t matter here.
I watched them for a moment, seeing the attraction between them grow with every word. It was beautiful and incredibly sweet. I could wait to get Jane’s opinion on the journal. I didn’t want to interrupt her falling in love.
I gave the happy couple one more smile before turning and walking back to the party. I wanted another drink and to see what else the party had to offer. Besides, I needed to check on Lydia and make sure she hadn’t terrorized the rich and famous too much.
Chapter 3
I found Lydia at the bar having a great time with a man. She was flirting and giggling with him for everything she was worth. I wanted to warn her, but she waved me away before I could get close. I just hoped that she knew the man she was flirting with wasn't rich and famous. He was the other hospital winner of tickets to tonight's event. He worked on the floor below me as a transport technician. If she was hoping he was her ticket to fame and fortune, she was in for a surprise.
I picked up a fresh drink while she glared daggers at me to leave her alone. She mouthed the words, “go away,” leaving no doubt that she didn't want my interference. I gave her a friendly wave and headed off to see the rest of the party.
It was amazing. There was a live band, amazing food, free drinks, and beautiful people everywhere. For the night, I felt like I'd been transported to a different world. I rubbed elbows with the rich and famous. I found myself having a wonderful conversation with an older woman who owned my favorite restaurant and her husband who ran my favorite shopping center.
It was a wonderful party.
“Just an announcement folks,” the singer of the band called out. “The silent auction will be ending in ten minutes. If you want to make some last minute bids on some amazing items, now is the time to do so. Remember, all proceeds go to these amazing hospitals.”
I thought about the journal. It wouldn't hurt to see if anyone else had bid on it. If someone had, then I would find something else for my dad, but if it was available, that journal was mine. The more I thought about it, the more perfect I realized it would be for him.
I said goodbye to my conversation and hurried over to the journal. I found that no one had bid on it and I grinned. It was a little more than I wanted to spend, but it was mine for the taking. I quickly wrote down my name with my bid, feeling confident that I would win.
I felt rather proud of myself as I stood back and waited for the end of bidding so I could claim my prize. I could already imagine my dad's face when he opened the gift. His eyes would go wide, and his jaw would drop. He might even cry. It was going to be amazing.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone writing a bid on my journal. Not only that, it was the jerk who ran into me earlier at the bar. Of all the people at the party, he had to bid on my item. My hand tightened around my empty martini glass, and I had to stop and take a deep breath.
Once he set the pen down, I was there. The journal was now way above what I should spend on a gift, but I didn't care. It was a matter of principle now. I couldn't let that jerk take my father's present. I signed my name with a flourish.
"Lizzie, there you are," Jane called to me as I finished signing. There were only a few minutes left in the auction, and the jerk was off bidding on a different item. I felt confident I had won. He wouldn't come back in the last few minutes and steal my dad's journal.
Jane still stood next to the Loiseau. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and she still only had her first drink in her hand. I wondered if she had ever even left this room, or if she and Charles had just stood here and talked about the paintings for the entire party. While that sounded terrible to me, I knew that it would be Jane's ideal way to spend the evening.
“Where's Charles?” I asked, looking around for her handsome conversation partner.
“He's getting me a drink and looking for his friend,” she replied. “He'll be back in a moment. Did you find anything to bid on?”
“An antique journal,” I told her. “And I'm pretty sure I've won it.”
“Oh, that would be perfect for your dad,” Jane agreed. “I know you've been looking for something special for him. I'm sure he'll love it.”
“I think so, too,” I replied. Jane's approval made me even more glad I had bid on it. “Did you bid on anything?”
Jane laughed and carefully pushed a blonde strand of hair back into place. “No, but more because Charles and I just talked. I completely lost track of time with him.”
I grinned and gave my beautiful friend a hug. I couldn't have been happier for her. If she met someone who shared her passion for art, then I considered tonight a roaring success. The fact that her new friend happened to be very wealthy was just a perk.
“Bidding has now ended,” someone announced. I grinned. That journal was mine.
“I'll be right back,” I told Jane. “I'm going to check on my fancy journal. I have to figure out how to wrap it.”
“Gold ribbon and red wrapping,” Jane informed me with a smile. “And let me make the card. You always butcher the letters.”
I laughed as I walked over to the table with the journal, feeling light and happy. Until I looked at the bidding sheet, that is.
My name was no longer last.
His was.
William Darcy.
He stole my journal.
The dirt-bag must have come back while I was talking to Jane and outbid me. All my dreams of surprising my father and making him smile vanished. I was no longer the hero of Christmas. I was a loser.
I stomped back to Jane, nearly tripping over my heels in the long skirt of my fancy gown.
“You okay?” Jane asked, taking one look at my face.
“I didn't win it,�
�� I said simply.
“Oh, Lizzie, I'm so sorry,” Jane replied. “I'm sure you'll think of something else for your dad.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “If not, I can always resort to my classic mug and funny t-shirt gift.”
Jane patted my shoulder and gave me a commiserating look.
"Jane, I'd like to introduce you to someone," Charles said, coming up beside her. He was smiling, and his cheeks were just as flushed with pleasure as Jane's. If anything could make me feel better, it was that. He liked her as much as she liked him.
“Of course,” Jane agreed, her own smile getting brighter.
“Jane, this is my friend, William Darcy,” Charles announced. He turned and motioned to the man who stole my journal. “Will, this is Jane and her roommate, Elizabeth.”
It took everything I had not to slap his smug face.
But, then I decided to be the bigger person. Maybe he had a father that loved antiques as well. Perhaps he was a collector and had finally found his dream piece. If the journal were going to a good home, I could bare it.
Maybe he wasn't evil. I could at least give him the benefit of the doubt now that I had to meet him.
“It's nice to meet you both,” the man replied. He spoke with a British accent that immediately made me think of a Bond villain. It probably helped that he held himself like one too. He was all aloof and high and mighty.
“Likewise,” I replied with as genuine a smile as I could muster. “I saw you won the antique journal. Congratulations, William.”
“What?” Confusion crossed his handsome features. “And please, call me Mr. Darcy.”
I did a small double take and felt like an admonished child. Apparently, we weren't on a first name basis despite being introduced as such. I didn't realize we were still in grade-school and he was the teacher.
“Okay, then, Mr. Darcy. The antique journal. Item number thirty-two,” I explained, trying to remain patient. “You outbid me and won.”
“Oh. That.” He shrugged. His attention seemed to be elsewhere. “I just tried to buy up anything that wasn't selling. It's all for a good cause.”
