Mr. Wood stood and leaned over the balcony railing, his grip so tight that his pale skin turned glow-in-the-dark white. His girls might think him frail, but he looked strong enough to climb over the railing and scale down the side of the building. He threw the jacket off his shoulders and squinted up and down Spring Street, taking in each person on the sidewalk. “You never can be too careful, Mr. Robbins.” He nodded up the hill. “Looks like the parade is about to start.”
A surging crowd of green held their position at the top of the hill, but the people in front seemed to be falling into line.
Mr. Wood turned back to Grant. “What were we talking about? Oh yes, Emily and defending herself. After a few years, she got so good, she didn’t need me to coach her.” He chuckled. “I’m pretty sure she could beat me now.”
Grant had been joking about it, but he got the feeling that Mr. Wood wasn’t. “She could make a good federal agent.” Grant kept his head forward, eyes on the crowd gathering beneath the balcony.
“She’s a tough cookie, but she’s no Cruise Donnelly.”
Grant suppressed a grin and checked Mr. Wood’s expression. A wry smile crossed his face. Ah, so Mr. Wood did know who Grant was. This would make things easier. “I wasn’t thinking Cruise, but his new partner. See, I’ve got this scene that just doesn’t seem to be gelling the way I want it to.”
Mr. Wood’s interest encouraged him, so Grant described the scene, working in a few procedural questions the older man gave suggestions on. They passed a quick hour before the buzz of kazoos and ripples of emerald-clad parade participants made their way down toward Main Street.
“Do you see them?” Mr. Wood pushed himself out of his chair. Grant watched, taking note for writing Cruise, as Mr. Wood scrutinized rooftops, balconies, windows, and sidewalks before settling in to search the band participants for his family. In all the time they’d been outside, it had been chilly with a hint of mist, yet Mr. Wood hadn’t once seemed concerned about his health. Was it possible he was using hypochondria to cover for a career that made him suspicious of everything? It could be his way of protecting the family.
Mr. Wood’s eyes skittered across the throng, but finding and pointing out Emily was easy for Grant. His eyes jumped to her as if magnetized. She was beautiful, not afraid to be herself, and the perfect balance between fun and tough. After all the women he’d dated across the world, it was nice to find one who was real, unafraid to best him at something, and who made him want to be more. And all this time, she’d been in his hometown.
10
“You know what we need?” Emily asked Hattie as they ducked into the chamber of commerce after the St. Patrick’s Day parade. “A ball.”
They hadn’t planned to work after the parade. Other employees were scheduled to answer tourist questions, but they’d ducked into the office to wrap up a couple of things before heading home.
“A ball? Tell me you don’t mean another ball.” Hattie gave Emily a sideways look. “I wish you meant soccer or basket or even base, but somehow, I don’t think you do.” She shook her head slowly, sadly. “Because we already have Diamonds and Denim—” She counted it out on her fingers. “—the Headless Horseman, the Mad Hatter, and of course everyone knows the Barefoot Ball.” Hattie looked at Emily as if she’d been knocked in the head with a bowling ball. “You do remember last month’s Eureka Gras Black Light Ball when you about went postal on me the day before, right?”
Listed like that, Emily did sound like she was a few billiard balls short of a full rack for even contemplating planning another one. “You’re right. But I’m thinking something smaller.” Emily held up her finger and thumb close together. “More private. For Grant.” She was talking crazy talk, so she tried to pin it on Grant, but in all honesty, she was the one who wanted an evening of dresses and dancing. “He’s resisting all my efforts to match him up with anyone. He wouldn’t even look at my last batch of suggestions.” As attested to by Annalise, her spy at Dawnwell. “A ball, though, could be as effective as speed-dating, but hopefully a little more fun. What do you think?”
“Yeah.” Hattie bounced her head and her curls up and down. “Can you imagine the budget if you talked Grantham into funding it?” Hattie looked like she was seeing stars. Or maybe dollar signs.
“Grant,” Emily corrected offhandedly. It might not be that difficult to convince him. It would give her an excuse to see him again. Or maybe she should go straight to Annalise, since she was the one investing in finding this all-important date. “I’ll check into it.”
Hattie scanned over Emily’s shoulder at the calendar on her screen. “What kind of ball? Like an old-fashioned one, where women dress up in Victorian gowns and men wear top hats?”
“I was thinking more Regency era, but yes.”
Hattie’s brow wrinkled.
“The style you see in all the Jane Austen movies like Pride and Prejudice.”
Hattie’s expression relaxed. “That’s what I said.”
There was a big difference between Sherlock Holmes and Jane Austen, but whatever. Victorian would make more sense with Eureka Springs practically one big historic district, so maybe a distinction shouldn’t be made. In her mind, though, it would be the ball she’d daydreamed about attending since she’d watched the Kiera Knightly film where Darcy and Elizabeth danced and everyone else faded away . . .
Emily’s eyes fluttered closed as she pictured herself in that dance, floating in a man’s arms, feeling fluttery and safe, content and loved. Her eyes snapped open again. Where did that come from? She was completely content not to be in love. Her taste in men had always been off, and she wouldn’t risk falling for another creep like Dixon. She’d invested too many years and emotional energy into a relationship that had ended up being a waste. She didn’t need that again.
In her mind’s eye, the man she danced with certainly wasn’t her ex, but who was it? She couldn’t tell much. He was taller than her, smelled heavenly—masculine and clean—had strong arms and hands, but it was the way he looked at her that just made her feel . . . special.
Try as she might, no face or name came to her, though both felt familiar, like someone standing off in her periphery. Like she’d experienced his arms around her recently. But that didn’t make sense, unless sparring or tumbling off a mountain bike could be considered a dance. Was it possible she could open up her heart again? There was the hint of a promise, a hope of love for her somewhere, sometime in the future. Could she actually want that dream for herself?
“If Grant sponsors the ball and you want it to be private, that means it’ll be for all his billionaire friends.” Hattie’s expression turned wistful.
Were there that many billionaires in town at the same time? Inviting them would be fine, but they would need a more expansive guest list. The whole point was to introduce Grant to the women who were his best options. As a bonus, she’d get to dance with Finn, in case he was the one she’d been daydreaming about.
Hattie was still talking as if in a daze. “Promise you’ll invite me. I need me some billionaire guy. Shoot, I’d go for a lowly millionaire, if that wasn’t asking too much.”
Emily made a show of cringing. “I don’t know.” She laughed it off to steer the conversation in the direction Hattie should be looking. “Elton might need to be there, though, don’t you think? A ball with that many billionaires would need security.” She raised her eyebrows at Hattie, so she couldn’t miss her meaning. “What would you think of that?”
“I don’t know if they’d choose him. Billionaires have their own body guards and such, and he’d have to work outdoor security—the booth and all that.”
Hattie had a point there, but that wasn’t the question Emily was asking, though Hattie’s wide innocent eyes made her ditziness that much more adorable.
“I meant what do you think about Elton coming? I thought you two had a moment when we were there the other day.”
Hattie’s eyes lit up in excitement. Though she bit down on her lip, her smile b
urst around it. “You did?”
“Neither of you could hide it from me.” Emily tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I know you two will end up together.”
“He’d never like someone like me, though.”
“Whyever not?” Emily threw a shocked look Hattie’s way. She needed to be more assertive. “Have confidence. Men like that. There’s no reason you shouldn’t—you’re beautiful, successful, fun to be around. What’s not to like?”
“But look at the people he sees all day long.”
Emily batted that excuse away with her hand. “He’s not going to land himself a billionaire.”
“Okay, not a billionaire, but I don’t even measure up to you. I’m not as important or well known in the community as you are. You’re gorgeous, you have all the connections—” Hattie rolled her hands as if Emily was supposed to extrapolate from there.
Emily warded off the excessive compliments with a lifted palm like a traffic cop. “Cut it out. You’re amazing, and I saw what I saw between you and Elton.” Hattie clamped her mouth shut; Emily had closed down that argument. She pulled out her phone. “I’m going to text Grant and Annalise right now. See what they think about a ball.” She started a joint text. She shot off the text, and then toggled to the calendar on her phone with all of Eureka Springs’s events. “What do you think about the first Friday in April? That doesn’t seem to conflict with anything.”
A moment later, Annalise called. Working with Grant’s personal assistant was great. As organized as Emily was, Annalise was ten times that, and she jumped right in. It was nice to have a woman with the purse strings to bounce ideas off of. For Eureka Springs events, Emily was constrained by budgets, and her brain was trained to think economically. Annalise helped expand her vision. By the end of the conversation, they each had their checklists: Emily had the responsibility of guest lists, flowers, and venues, while Annalise took on invitations, caterers, and service personnel. Even after she hung up, Emily’s insides buzzed with excitement. This was really going to happen!
By Thursday, plans for the Regency ball were well underway. First thing Monday morning, formal invitations were delivered via courier. That same day, Emily called the hat shop, dress shop, and flower shop with a heads-up to be prepared for an uptick in clients with Regency-related costume needs. She’d kept up on her regular chamber of commerce duties as well, but today, she just couldn’t focus on anything else.
Anxious to check the stock and pick out her gown, Emily pushed away from her desk even though it was not quite eleven. “Hey, Hattie. What do you say to a shopping trip?” Without waiting for an answer, she freed her purse from the bottom drawer, ready to go. “I was thinking the dress shop on Main and then Le Chapeau up on Spring.”
“I love it when my job is to shop.” Hattie’s headband slid forward, and she pushed it back, pulling the hair too tight in the front, but the springing curls pushed it forward again. A losing battle, really.
They walked the few blocks down Main Street and waved at Kian outside Spokes kitty-corner to the cute vintage dress boutique. The bell over the door at Ever After Dress Ups tinkled when Emily pushed it open. Inside, racks of vintage dresses and suits were arranged by decade or era, depending on how popular they were. The eighties, seventies, sixties, and Roaring Twenties each had their own section, as did Antebellum and Victorian. The shop owner, Ever, caught Emily’s eye from behind the counter and winked in a get-to-you-in-a-second gesture. Emily gave a head nod and turned to browse while Ever checked out a small group of forty-something out-of-towners with infectious laughs.
A couple of minutes later, when the group was gone and Emily could hear well enough to pick up on the background music, Ever walked over, a petal-pink vintage A-line swinging just past her knees.
“Is that the Breakfast at Tiffany’s soundtrack?” Emily asked by way of greeting. Ever created themes according to her day’s outfit.
“You know it. Today is inspired by Audrey Hepburn.” She twirled slightly so her dress would flare out playfully but then got serious. “Thanks for your message the other day. I’ve already had a couple of inquiries.” Ever walked toward the back, and Hattie and Emily followed. “A Regency ball, huh? I haven’t stocked a ton of it before now—not sure why not. It’s kind of fun—but if it’s going to be an annual event, I might as well carve out a permanent corner for it.”
“You should.” Emily bobbed up and down on the balls of her feet. “I’m so excited, I can’t even tell you! To pull it off, though, everyone needs the costumes, so I’m really glad we have your help.”
“Because what’s a Regency ball without gowns, vests, and cravats, am I right?”
“Exactly.” She knew Ever would understand. “You got your invitation—” This wasn’t a question. “—and you are coming?” What if Grant liked her? Emily bit down on her lower lip. No, Ever was dating someone pretty seriously. “With your boyfriend?”
Ever gave a dreamy nod.
Thank goodness. Even if Emily hadn’t set them up. “I’m sure you saw the timeline is short, only three weeks—” Emily cringed waiting for Ever’s reaction, but she didn’t seem bothered by it.
“We’ll do what we can. There’s always the internet if your guests can’t find what they need here.”
Emily pretended to backhand her. “I can’t believe you said that. Of course you’ll have everything they need.”
Ever stuck the tip of her tongue out at Emily and gave her a goofy face. “I’ve got you all taken care of. Speaking of which, if you want your pick, you’d better grab it now, because the best will sell out before Darcy gets his first swoon.”
Ever stepped to the back wall to an assortment of pastel gowns. “First things first. Let’s see if we have anything here that will suit you two.” She reached for a dress in rose gold so pale it almost looked cream and held it up to Emily’s shoulder, checking the length. “It might need a few alterations, but it’s a good color for you.” Emily smoothed the dress across her front and nodded in satisfaction. “Do you know Indigo Williams? She’s a talented seamstress.”
“Oh, yes, Indigo’s gr—”
Hattie grabbed for the dress, taking it from Ever’s hand. “Oh, that’s gorgeous!” She held it in front of her own body. “It’ll fit me without alterations. What do you think?”
Hattie’s commandeering the dress lit a flare of annoyance in Emily, but she snuffed it out. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone in particular. “It is a beautiful dress, but I don’t mind seeing what else you have.” She walked slowly past the dresses, trying to decide which she liked best. “So many exquisite gowns. It would be a shame not to admire and consider each.”
“Oh, you’re right.” Hattie handed the first gown back to Ever without even an apologetic look. Hattie perused the dresses, chewing on her bottom lip as she fluffed sleeves and tugged on the skirts. “Don’t they have any other shape?”
“This one has some nice detail.” Ever chose a steel blue and held it up for Hattie. Although still an Empire waist, it was indeed beautiful and didn’t make Hattie’s complexion look so washed out. “You would look lovely in it.”
“Thank you for not telling me I had to wear green.”
Ever chuckled. “I find most redheads are a little tired of that color. You really do have a lot more choices than that.”
Mollified, Hattie took the dress. “Mind if I try it on?”
Ever pointed to a curtain in the corner, and Hattie drifted off, lifting the fabric to admire it. At least she looked happy now. That filled Emily’s heart with joy.
“Now, your dress.” Ever turned back to the rack. “Anything catch your eye?”
In the end, Ever and Emily persuaded Hattie to go for the blue, as it suited her hair and skin tones more, and Emily was left to the first gown, which really was perfect. On their way out the door, clothed in daydreams of how they would look at the ball and armed with the satisfaction that the business of costumes was sorted out, they thanked Ever and t
ook a staircase shortcut to the upper section of Spring Street toward the hat shop.
Stepping into the boutique shop Le Chapeau: Hats and Haberdashery always felt like falling down a rabbit hole where the past met the present in a dizzying kaleidoscope of fantasy and fun. If she came in every day, the place couldn’t get old. As it was, when Emily turned the ornate metal doorknob, the scents of felt and rose water enveloped her, and she allowed herself to be swept into the illusion of being in another place, another time—maybe even being someone else.
Standing underneath the Tiffany chandelier, they took a moment to orient themselves. Every time Emily came in, she was overwhelmed by the sheer number of hats. Who knew there could be so many different styles? But that was half the shop’s charm.
“How glorious!” Hattie rushed to the nearest display, completely enamored, only to turn away and dash to another style of hat, like a puppy with too many toys.
“You have been in here before, haven’t you?” Emily had to ask, because Hattie acted like she had never seen such a place, but she’d grown up in Eureka Springs.
“I have. It’s just been a really long time. I’d forgotten how fun this place was.” Hattie twirled to inspect the next display. She spent more time on the hats there than anywhere else. “As much as I love the gowns, I kind of wish I could wear one of these steampunk hats.” Hattie touched the wide goggles trimmed with metal clockwork cogs on the rim of a felt top hat. The style was typically meant for men, but in this case, it fit for women as well.
“I could help you find the perfect thing.” The owner, Agnes Bassett, a petite woman in her sixties with silvery cropped hair, appeared seemingly out of thin air as if she’d time-traveled in. Her willowy voice was laced with a French accent as elegant as she was. Every time Emily entered, the shop owner donned a different hat. Today, she wore a mustard-yellow bowler with a side bowknot.
The Matchmaker's Billionaire (Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove Book 2) Page 9
