by Lynn LaFleur
Most of the older men wore black tuxedos with red cummerbunds and bow ties. The younger men replaced the cummerbunds with more stylish red vests and straight ties.
A few of the women wore plain, glittered masks. Most sported ones even more ornate than Abby’s.
She remembered the floral staff had prepared sixty-five centerpieces for tables of eight, ten for smaller tables, and one for a table for two. The stage had not been placed by the time she and the Love In Bloom crew left for the day. None of the draping had been hung either. The ballroom looked so different now she had difficulty finding the small table over which she and Ronn had worked so hard to hang Cupid’s clouds. Two gilded chairs with red velvet padded seats sat side by side under the canopy of roses and stephanotis. Two crystal champagne flutes sparkled under the lights, alongside a four-branched candelabrum with twenty-four-inch white tapers. A panel of satin Austrian drapes served as the backdrop. How odd, Abby thought. With the dinner service only minutes away, no one sat at the table.
Seating for a small orchestra had been set up on the risers at the back of the stage. Abby saw their instruments in place, which meant they had likely taken a post-reception break.
On the stage proper, the crew had set up a podium with a tall bronze vase and four dozen long-stemmed roses in front of it and a small table beside it. Abby silently groaned. Tables like that usually held plaques to be awarded at some point in the evening, the dullest point.
Her tablemates introduced themselves and included her in the usual small talk. She smiled and participated until she saw Brett and Jordan walk onto the dance floor. They’d come from somewhere behind the back of the stage. Brett looked amazing in a white tux with a red vest and tie. On his lapel, he wore a single red rose. Jordan wore a full length raspberry red silk gown with a short train. The gown clung to her slender frame and emphasized her perfectly toned body. She wore a strand of pearls and a white rose pinned near her shoulder. They looked stunning together.
Brett walked a little behind her and guided her with a hand on her elbow. She gazed up at him and smiled, a smile Abby saw glowed from across the room—the smile of a lover.
Once again, unshed tears burned Abby’s throat and stung her eyes. Why had she come? Did she need to be hit over the head with a brick to understand that their night at Whispers had been Brett’s last fling before committing to his real soul mate? The new kid in town had been nothing more than a convenient sexual diversion.
Crestfallen, she slumped against the back of her chair. This evening could not end soon enough.
The wine stewards began moving through the room while members of the orchestra filed onto the stage. Once they’d taken their seats and readied their instruments, three screens descended slowly from the ceiling. Brett walked up on the stage and to the podium.
Abby was powerless to stop her heart from skipping. She’d seen him dressed in formalwear twice in two days. She’d also seen him naked, with her eyes, her hands and her mouth. Now she saw him on the three large screens and began taking in every facet of him, starting with his hair, so thick and wavy, the cut of his jaw, his perfect nose, and his full soft lips.
The camera didn’t do his blue eyes justice. She preferred to remember the way they’d shone each time he brought her to orgasm.
His shoulders, larger than most men’s, looked even bigger in a white jacket cut to emphasize his narrow waist. As much as it hurt to know she’d never be with him again, she wanted to savor each detail. On Monday, when she left Seaside for good, she’d take only memories with her.
“Good evening and welcome to Hearts Afire!” he began. “I’m Brett Kincade, and it is my pleasure tonight to serve as your KIMSOE…”
The buzz in the crowd quieted. Abby too wondered what a “kimsoe” was.
“In case you’re wondering, that’s our chairwoman’s acronym for Keep it moving, sonny, or else.”
That brought chuckles and a round of applause, especially from the men in the crowd.
Next, Brett introduced the hospital brass and asked them to remove their masks. Their smiling faces filled the three screens.
With that completed, Brett addressed the audience again. “This has always been one of my favorite rituals, where everyone removes his or her mask. Wine stewards, may I ask you to step back from your tables?” The wine servers quickly complied. “Cut the lights please.”
The room fell into total darkness. “Beginning with table three, please stand and remove your masks.” A spotlight broke through the darkness and shined on Jordan Ito, Lauren Kincade, a man who looked a year or two older than Lauren and had to be Brett Kincade, Sr. Next to them, the screen showed a woman about Brett’s age unmasking a little boy while what had to be her husband, unmasked their little girl—twins. Abby didn’t need Sherlock Holmes to tell her they were Brett’s sister Melanie and her family.
Hail, hail the gang’s all here. She tried to fight off the gloom of seeing Brett and his family, with Jordan right in the thick of it.
The spotlight moved quickly and so did the guests. Abby watched carefully as the light neared her table. At the last second, before the spot would have fallen on her and projected her image, she nudged her handbag. It fell to the floor. While her tablemates stood and removed their masks, she bent low, pretending to search for it.
The spotlight moved on. Abby exhaled the breath she’d been holding since he’d called the table before hers and removed her mask.
At the conclusion of the unmasking ritual, the spotlight dimmed and the house lights rose. Brett said, “Now enjoy your dinner, everyone. We’ll see you afterward.”
Abby looked around at the tables closest to her. With everyone unmasked she realized she knew no one. What am I doing here?
“Excuse me, madam.” A waiter stood beside her, holding a dinner plate with a broiled lobster tail and a small filet. “Medium rare?”
“That’s fine,” she answered. It didn’t matter if they’d charred the steak to cinders. She had no appetite. Tonight even the fragrance of the béarnaise made her dizzy. She had to get out of there—now.
Stewards and servers hovered near their tables and clogged the aisles. She would have created more of a stir trying to get away at this time than if she stayed and waited until the dinner plates were cleared and dessert served. At that point, she knew Brett would return to the stage and begin the evening’s program. She quietly gathered her handbag, mask and program, ready to bolt at her first chance.
The lights rose at the same time Abby realized she had nowhere to go. She’d forgotten Judy had dropped her at the entrance and driven off before they’d made plans to pick her up. She hadn’t brought her cell phone because the beaded handbag she carried was too narrow to close around it. She’d have to find someone to lend her theirs or stay until the party ended and hope Judy showed up.
Fighting the panic of someone marooned, she looked around and saw the young man who’d seated her heading in her direction. Surely he had a cell or could direct her to one of the pay phones.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Granger,” he began before she had a chance to ask. “There’s been a horrible mistake. We seated you at the wrong table. Please, come with me now.”
She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary, I’m leaving as soon as I can find a phone.”
“No, please come with me. This was such a mistake.”
Abby didn’t want to stay but the worried look on his face tugged at her heart. She looked down at her handbag and then at him. “All right, lead the way.”
At first she guessed Jordan must have found an extra seat somewhere and assigned it to “Abby Horton”. Probably right outside the kitchen or the hallway leading to the restrooms. Until her escort walked her across the back of the ballroom and then headed toward the stage.
“Where are we going?” she whispered over the panic rising inside her.
“Table five.”
Table five. That had to be one of those ringing the dance floor.
“Is there some
thing wrong?” Abby asked. “Where is table five?”
He smiled broadly. “Why it’s the best table in the house, Ms. Granger. Right in the path of Cupid’s arrow.”
Abby knew she wasn’t the type to swoon when the going got tough. Still her knees began to tremble, and a topsy-turvy feeling roiled up inside her. Who would do this to me? Her mind reeled and settled on the one person who wanted to send a strong message—Jordan Ito.
“Excuse me, miss.” A waiter carrying a heavy metal tray stood behind her. He nodded toward a table where soiled dinnerware still remained.
She stepped aside and tried to grapple with her alternatives. Already guests were returning to the dining room after the break. Out the corner of her eyes, she saw Brett and his mother huddled over a clipboard. They stood less than thirty feet away.
Abby sank into a chair at the special table. To her relief, the wait staff had not lighted the tapers in the candelabrum. While Cupid’s arrow headed straight at her, the drape provided enough cover that if the lights stayed low, and her luck held, no one might notice her. Better still, she remembered a hallway that led to one of the exits while she struggled with the arrangement. At the conclusion of the program, she’d duck around the draped partition and head out the back way. Somewhere she’d find a phone and this dreadful night would finally be over.
At exactly nine o’clock, Brett ascended the stage and took the mic. What could have been long dull speeches went quickly. Each speaker thanked the committee and their colleagues, accepted their plaques and returned to their seats.
Brett looked out at the crowd and smiled. “In a moment, the orchestra will begin playing for your dancing pleasure and all the bars will open again. This is your evening and we want you to enjoy yourselves. However, we have one last bit of news we’ve all been waiting for, a short report from the committee and a chance to formally pat yourselves on the back for your generosity. Please join me in showing our appreciation for this year’s Gala Chair and her committee. I’m very proud to introduce a woman who needs no introduction, my mother, Lauren Kincade.”
Lauren rose from her chair to thundering applause. She glowed, faced the crowd and applauded them in return. Brett met her at the steps to the stage and escorted her across the room. She looked like an angel dressed in a floor length, long-sleeved white gown and a three string choker of bright red crystals. In her blonde hair, she wore a red rose.
“Thanks, sweetheart.” She caressed her son’s cheek then turned a page on her clipboard. “This has been a year-long journey,” she began after she introduced her committee members and quickly summarized some of the goals they’d set at their first meeting.
“Our goal was to double the $250,000.00 raised by last year’s committee.”
Abby saw the people at the table ringside lean in.
“At three o’clock this afternoon, we did a final audit of all receipts. We were thrilled by the generosity of the citizens of Seaside, but saddened because we’d fallen a little more than $50,000.00 short of our goal.” Lauren turned to Brett and held out her hand. He shook his head and backed a few steps farther out of the spotlight.
“My son, whom most of you have known all of his life, had questioned our judgment in setting such a high goal. He wrote the first check and said that if we made it, he’d stand up on this stage in front of all of you and do the tango.”
That brought a hearty round of hoots, laughter and applause from the audience.
“Beau and I had always congratulated ourselves on raising two very bright children,” Lauren began again. “But somewhere along the way something went off track, because this afternoon, even when he knew he was off the hook as a tango dancer, my son once again took out his checkbook. At this time, I am so proud to announce that we have not only reached that half-million dollar mark, we exceeded it. And tonight, with our committee’s thanks to all of you, and with our gratitude to the health care providers and caregivers at Seaside Memorial, we are pleased to present to Dr. Johnson a check for five-hundred thousand dollars and twenty-five cents!”
Abby wiped tears from her eyes watching Lauren blow a handful of kisses to the audience while her grandchildren carried a six-foot replica of a half-million dollar check on stage for presentation to Dr. Johnson, the unit’s head.
The audience rose to its feet, Abby along with them. In her mind, she clearly heard Judy’s words from last night, “Family’s everything to him.”
“We’ve presented our plaques, we’ve made our speeches. Before the orchestra starts playing again, I’ll ask your indulgence for a bit of comic relief.” She turned to Brett.
From her vantage point, Abby saw a genuinely puzzled look on Brett’s face.
Lauren faced the audience again and shrugged. “Apparently my son’s forgotten the promise he made.” She turned to Brett and once again held out her hand. This time he walked slowly to her side, shaking his head. “A bet’s a bet,” she said. “The ball’s in your court, son,” and to the orchestra’s leader, “Maestro, strike up the band!”
Lauren Kincade left the stage amid gales of laughter and applause. Brett stood at the podium, looking as if he hadn’t a clue about what do next—until the orchestra began playing up the opening bars of Hernando’s Hideaway.
At that, Brett smiled broadly and waved them into silence.
“We have a problem,” he said into the mic. “My sister Melanie has always been my dance partner.”
Melanie blew him a kiss from the ringside table and patted her protruding tummy. “But with her due date only a couple of weeks away, I don’t think she wants to try that tonight.” He unhooked the mic and began walking the length of the stage and back. “I wonder if there’s another young lady present who might want to have her toes stepped on by a flat-footed ex-jock.”
Abby had to look away. She couldn’t bear to watch Brett take Jordan in his arms and dance what should have been their dance.
The house lights went down, and the spot that had highlighted each table during the unmasking ritual, shone only on Brett. “Oh, I think I’ve found her.”
Abby dared to open one eye and to her enormous surprise, Brett hadn’t taken Jordan’s hand and brought her up on stage. Instead he was walking straight to table five.
Abby’s jaw dropped. He stood in front of her holding out his hand and asking in that sweet potato pie southern drawl he used the morning they met. “Miz Lily Granger, would you do me the honor of partnering with me for this dance?”
Chapter Sixteen
Without hesitation, Abby slid her hand into Brett’s. His touch felt warm and soft and safe. With a rush of both relief and excitement, she walked alongside him to center stage where she pressed against him in the classic tango embrace. Brett nodded to the conductor, and as they had on Wednesday evening at Whispers, the first notes of Kiss of Fire filled the ballroom.
Abby didn’t know if they danced for two minutes or ten. Whether they stayed on the stage or soared over the rooftops among the stars. She was in Brett’s arms. That’s all that mattered. She’d seen something in his eyes when he held out his hand to her, something that sent tiny shivers of hope and anticipation far beyond a dance.
Too soon it ended. He spun her gently away so that they both faced the appreciative audience and bowed. Some shouted “Bravo!” Others, “Encore!” They applauded each other as well and once again their audience.
Abby’s heart roared inside her chest until she thought it might burst. She stood in a spotlight, surrounded by strangers who seemed more like lifelong friends, in the arms of the man she loved. At the same time, they stood alone, oblivious to the buzz and racket going on around them.
Still holding Brett’s hand, Abby followed him to the podium where he gathered up the portable mic. She also noticed that only Jordan sat at the table where Brett and his family had only minutes ago. That is Jordan and one of the most handsome Asian-American men Abby had ever seen. They sat with their chairs touching, and with his arm draped across the back of her chair while his fi
ngertips caressed her shoulder. Jordan even smiled at her, and this time her smile looked sincere.
Abby smiled back until another movement caught her eye, off to her right. The Austrian drape in the panel behind her seat had begun to rise.
Oh my god!
It had been no more than a few seconds since their dance ended. Now everything was happening so quickly, she wasn’t sure what was real and what was mirage.
As automatically as if she’d been doing it all of her life, she turned to Brett to find the answers. He grinned at her, amusement twinkling in his blue eyes.
“Hang on, sweetheart, this is just the beginning.”
With everyone seated and the ballroom quieted to a low buzz, Brett began, “I know we’re here tonight to honor the staff of the Cardiac Care Unit and to thank all of you for your caring and generosity.” He grinned. “But you know us Kincades. We’re the bunch who takes a mile when someone gives us that proverbial inch.”
Although cooled to a comfortable temperature, the room exuded warmth that came from the hearts of the people. Abby saw deep affection in their faces and smiles. The Kincades gave their all to Seaside, and tonight she saw that Seaside returned their love. She’d grown up on military bases, where friendships and bonds were formed in good times and bad. Tonight she saw that same kinship.
“I’ve known most of you my entire life. You’ve been there when I’ve been up and when I’ve been down. And tonight I want to share something very special with you.”
Even while her mind reeled on emotional overload, Abby saw Brett held the audience in the palm of his hand. “First, I want to introduce my beautiful tango partner.”
When he smiled at her, she melted but how she wished he’d stop talking and kiss her instead. Friends were fine, but seven-hundred-fifty-plus at one time stretched her definition of intimacy.
“She’s Abby Horton now, but most of you know her as Rose Granger’s niece, Lily Granger.”
He released Abby and swept his arm toward Cupid’s table.
