Blind Date Rivals

by Nina Harrington

  It was almost nine that evening when Sara finally tottered in her evening sandals through the familiar white marble hall with its twisted double staircase and grinned up at the huge scarlet banner which hung suspended from the ornate plasterwork arch above her head.

  The words ‘Hollywood Night’ had been printed in enormous gold letters across the banner. Trust Helen to choose a movie theme for her birthday party. And subtle did not come into it.

  Shaking her head with a low chuckle, Sara could not resist checking on the pair of stunning orchid plants which she had delivered only two days earlier as a special order.

  This variety of Phalaenopsis was a triumph. At the heart of each of the huge ivory blossoms was a crimson tongue speckled with gold dust. Of course she did not expect the guests and staff at the hotel to appreciate how much work went into create such perfect flower spikes from each plant, but they did look amazing. She had suggested other colour combinations, of course, but the Events Manager had insisted on the ivory blossoms. They were a lovely match for the antique console table which stood along the length of the hall below the huge gold framed mirror which had once belonged to her grandmother.

  It had been heartbreaking for her to watch so many of her favourite pieces of treasured antique furniture being sold off in auction to strangers, but her mother had been right for once. Huge heavy pieces of furniture and enormous gilt mirrors belonged in a house large enough to appreciate them and not in some minimalist apartment or tiny cottage. And of course they had needed the proceeds of the sale so very badly.

  At least the luxury hotel chain who had bought Kingsmede Manor had the good sense to snap up as many of the lovely original pieces as they could while they still had the chance.

  At that moment the front doors opened to a gaggle of laughing guests who swept into the hall, bringing a breeze of evening air to waft through the orchid spikes. Sara did not recognise anyone in the group—but that was hardly surprising. Helen’s jewellery design business was based in London and it had been three years since they had shared a flat together. Their lives had changed so much since then it was little wonder that they had different friends and such different lives.

  For a moment Sara looked past the orchid blossoms and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hand instantly went to her hair and flicked back her short fringe. There had been a time when she had been one of those laughing, happy city girls, with their smart high heels and expensive grooming habits, who could afford wonderful hairdressers. Now she was simply grateful that the pixie style was back in fashion.

  Sara checked her watch. She was late. Correction, make that very late. Perhaps her blind date was already here and waiting for her? Frightened of being stood up? And probably as scared as she was.

  She lifted her chin and fixed a smile on her lips as she wandered into what had been her grandmother’s drawing room and stood on tiptoe to see if she could spot Helen.

  At five feet nothing, Helen had always been petite enough to make Sara feel like a gangly beanstalk. That was one reason why Sara had chosen medium black sandals to accompany her simple black shift dress—one of the many treasures her grandmother had left behind in the dressing-up box! Helen had supplied the pearl necklaces and huge black sunglasses but she had turned down the plastic tiara. Not with her current hairstyle. The long black evening gloves and cigarette-holder were the only other props she needed to become Audrey for the evening.

  Then she spotted someone waving to her from across the room.

  Sara worked her way through the crowd of costumed strangers, trying to reach Helen’s table which was just in front of the wide patio doors that led out onto the terrace. A warm breeze from the garden wafted into the packed room. Perfect.

  ‘Thank goodness you are here,’ Helen called against the background noise. ‘We need to come up with a plan to make sure that we win the karaoke contest later on, and you’re the only person I know who can sing vaguely in tune.’

  Helen was dressed as Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz and looked absolutely charming, from her simple gingham pinafore dress to her red glittery shoes and a tiny little basket with a stuffed toy dog inside.

  ‘Oh, thanks a lot, Dotty,’ Sara replied with a laugh and bent down quickly to kiss her friend, while trying to avoid kissing away the bright spot of red on Helen’s cheek which she had helped apply. ‘Sorry I’m so late. I think the mice have been in the orchid house again and Pasha refused to move from his comfy cat bed without a fight.’

  Sara stretched out her left arm and turned it from side to side. ‘Can you still see the scratch marks? I’ve taken two antihistamines and tried to cover them up with several layers of make-up and long gloves. What do you think?’

  Helen waved her fingers in the air. ‘Forget about all of that. I need you to focus, sweetie. Focus. I have just decided that our table will win the most points so you have to be on top form.’ She nodded and tapped her finger against her nose, which was slightly redder than normal, and Sara wondered how many glasses of champagne Helen had sampled in the past hour.

  But, before Sara could answer, a tall slim man in a pinstriped suit with huge shoulders, black and white brogues, a fedora and black eye mask sidled up towards them, tipped his hat to an even more jaunty angle, lifted Helen’s hand, bent over sharply from the waist and kissed the inside of her wrist. ‘Hiya, Gorgeous,’ he said in a very fake American gangster accent, ‘are you ready to be my moll tonight? You and your little dog too.’

  ‘Good evening, Caspar,’ Sara said with a smile. ‘You are looking terribly elegant.’

  The black silk mask was hoisted up with a sigh of exasperation.

  ‘Come on. What gave me away?’ Caspar asked.

  Sara pointed to his wrist. ‘I’m afraid designer watches like that were not so very common in the organised crime community.’

  He looked casually down and snorted. ‘Serves me right for accepting gifts from every jewellery designer I promise to marry,’ he answered, grinning down at Helen, who raised her eyebrows in recognition.

  ‘Anyway—look at you! All dressed up for a Saturday night and looking very handsome.’

  ‘Helen dragged me here.’ Sara nodded. ‘Apparently this is the poor girl’s last chance to have some fun before she leaves the world of young, free and single.’

  Caspar was already looking over Helen’s head towards the bar, and nodded to the wine waiter who was carrying trays of chilled champagne glasses with what looked like dry ice streaming out of them.

  ‘I consider it my solemn duty to help my future bride achieve all her goals. Be right back with the drinks, ladies. Prepare to try the famous Kaplinski movie night cocktails.’

  And with that he swaggered off across the polished floorboards with his shoulder pads leading the way.

  Sara sighed and sat back in her chair. ‘That man is almost good enough for you. Almost. And how is the birth day girl?’

  Helen slapped her a little too vigorously on the back. ‘Fan. Tastic. I need to catch up with the catering manager, and find out where your date has got to, but I will be right back. Stay put.’

  ‘You are not going to leave me here on my own?’ Sara could not hide the desperation in her voice.

  ‘Of course not,’ Helen replied, giving her one of her looks. ‘Mingle, darling. Mingle. See you in five!’

  Sara shook her head with a grin as Helen skipped her way through the crowd, then stopped to chat to a sword carrying pirate who had started a play fight with a young man waving a light sabre.

  With a low chuckle, Sara lifted her evening bag higher onto her shoulder, sashayed out into the room and accepted a cool glass of champagne from a formally dressed waiter who winked at her as he presented his silver tray. She winked back. The young couple who ran the village post office were always grateful for extra work at the hotel and she could see his wife on the other side of the room reorganising the buffet display.

  Fantastic! Now she had two more people to chat to.

  She was just about to turn
away when a slim man in a very stylish black suit, wearing white gloves and a flowing cape with huge red lapels, strolled into the room as though it was the deck of a luxurious yacht. He held his body in a stiff and mannered way—aloof and imposing. He was dark and so classically handsome that Sara could only gaze in awe. The gene fairy had certainly waved her magic wand over this boy.

  All in all, he looked every inch the poster boy for the modern city executive he no doubt was. Polished and slick as steel. Confident in his abilities and accustomed to taking charge in any situation. A true captain of industry.

  Sara gave a low sniff at the memory of all the boys she had dated over the years who had been clones of the man she was looking at. She had been there, done that and had been disappointed time and again when it turned out that they were far too interested in dating someone who they could introduce to their family as the only daughter of Lady Fenchurch rather than find out who she was as a person.

  Being at the end of a long line of aristocratic landowners certainly had its disadvantages. Especially when she did not have any rights to a title of her own.

  Then Caspar instantly greeted him warmly and pointed him over towards the bar, except that as he turned away she caught a fleeting look on Count Dracula’s face which she identified with only too well. It only lasted a fraction of a second but it spelt out that he felt lonely and foolish and out of place. Almost as though he had been dragged there and dressed up against his will.

  Leo Grainger glanced around the room, then stared in horror as Caspar passed him a very odd-looking steaming drink. ‘You do know that you are the one and only person on this planet who could drag me to Helen’s birthday party dressed like this? I just thought you ought to know that. For the record.’

  ‘What are friends for?’ Caspar replied, waving his Kaplinski cocktail in the air. ‘Think nothing of it. And no, I had nothing whatsoever to do with Helen setting you up with her old school friend. Sorry, pal, but she who must be obeyed has decreed it so. Anyway, it is the least I could do after you offered us the free use of the hotel.’

  Leo tipped his head and raised his glass towards Caspar’s. ‘It was my pleasure. There are some compensations for being related to the owner. I was happy to help. And Helen looks as lovely as ever.’

  ‘That she does,’ Caspar replied, slapping Leo on the back one handed and almost making him spill his drink. ‘Why don’t you make a start on the food? And while you’re checking out the buffet I’ll check on my future bride. The lovely Helen has some sort of surprise entertainment up her sleeve to finish off the evening and I want to be prepared. Back in a minute.’

  And with that the gangster rolled across the room, swaggering his shoulders dramatically from side to side.

  Leo blinked several times, shook his head, took one sip of the cocktail, almost choked and quickly picked up a glass of sparkling water from a passing waiter with a smile and grateful thanks. If that was the effect a Kaplinski cocktail had on an otherwise fairly normal lawyer like Caspar, he would pass. For this job, he was prepared to remain sober and very alert. And risk the canapés.

  Only as he peered across the room towards the buffet table he was struck by something rather remarkable. One of the elegant party guests was talking to the waitress who was juggling empty platters and plates. And not just idle chatting in a condescending way but really laughing and sharing a joke so that when she started jiggling along and shaking her slim and very attractive hips in time with the lively music playing in the background, his own feet starting tapping with them.

  For the first time in days an ironic smile creased the corner of Leo’s mouth. He had so many vivid memories about the rude and arrogant guests and diners he had served during his days as a general waiter and dogsbody in his aunt’s hotel. They had been tough times when he had been glad of the work but it had been hard going and he had never truly got used to being ignored or verbally abused—it had been part of the training at the University of Life.

  One thing he had learned was that a guest who actually took the time to connect with the serving staff and treat them as human beings was a rare creature. The crowds cleared a little and he could just make out that the tall brunette with the short hair was even lovelier than he had expected.

  She was wearing a classic little black dress and black evening gloves. Pearls, of course. Elegant. Cool, but she still came over as somehow comfortable. That was it. She looked comfortable inside her own skin. She was not beautiful or sleek but somehow real with a natural prettiness and totally relaxed body language that she was not ashamed of.

  The fact that her long slim legs tapered into lovely shapely ankles was an added bonus. This was no country bumpkin—this was an elegant and classy city girl who had been trapped here in the back of beyond like himself.

  Perhaps he had found someone to talk to at this party after all.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SARA walked slowly along the buffet table, loading up her plate with bite-sized mouthfuls of the most delicious food. The hotel chef was amazing and, after three glasses of the Kaplinski cocktail whilst waiting for Helen, who was still mingling, she was in need of something more solid to add to her stomach. Her snatched lunchtime sandwich was a distant memory, and she wasn’t entirely sure she had finished that. Okay, she was having a slight problem using the serving tongs while wearing long evening gloves which were slightly too large for her, but hunger had won out in the end and her reward was a plate heaped up with goodies.

  The gloves were going to have to come off during the actual eating process—but some things were worth the sacrifice. And at this rate it would not take long for her to scoff the lot.

  She had just paused at the mini pizza platter when the strains of a familiar musical theme song belted out above the background chatter. Her hand trembled as a tsunami of emotion and sentimental angst swept over her. All it took were a few lines of lyrics and the sound of a studio orchestra…and she unravelled.

  It had always been the same. Sounds and music were associated for ever in her mind with specific people and places and events, and there was nothing she could do about it—that was the way her mind worked. All she had to do was hear the opening bars of a tune and she was right back in that moment.

  Pity that it had to be now.

  It had been a long busy week and the last thing she wanted was to walk into a party with a soundtrack playing music from one of her grandmother’s favourite musicals. Just the memory of her grandmother holding her hand as they danced around this room, both singing at the top of their voices and having so much fun, was enough to get Sara feeling tearful.

  She had so little left of her wonderful grandmother that even these memories seemed too precious to share in public.

  No, she told herself sternly. She was not going to weep. This was Helen’s birthday party! And she still had her grand mother’s orchid houses—and they had meant more to her than anything else in this fine house. The fact that her grandmother had bequeathed them to her with the cottage was worth any amount of ridicule from her mother. She had trusted her to take care of them as their new custodian and that was precisely what she was doing.

  So she had every reason to smile and pretend that every thing was fine and she was just dandy! After everything Helen had done for her, she was not going to let her down. No way. Not going to happen. And so far her blind date had not appeared so she had this time to herself.

  She needed a drink to ease the burning pain in her throat. That was all.

  Sara quickly loaded up her plate with savoury bites, then paused in front of a superb dessert trolley. And right on top was a black satin-lined tray of chocolates which had been shaped into small award statuettes. Except that the few remaining chocolates had been crushed by other guests in their rush to gobble them up and from where she was standing looked more like body halves, with a luscious creamy-white centre. Perfect.

  She had just scooped up some chocolate legs onto a silver spoon when there was a clatter and a loud beeping noi
se and Helen’s distinctive voice called out from the centre of the room. Sara turned around just in time to see her friend stand on a chair holding a microphone in one hand and waving her basket in her other hand with such gusto that poor little stuffed Toto was joggling about and threatening to jump out at any minute.

  ‘Hello, everyone. Me here. Thanks for coming. Just to let you know that there are five more minutes before the karaoke starts, so finish off your drinks and food and get ready to sing your heart out. Yes. That’s right. Hollywood musicals. I just know it is going to be the best fun. Thanks.’

  With that, Caspar strolled up and wrapped his arm around Helen’s waist to lift her off the chair and back to the table, both of them laughing and so very happy. And, despite the fact that she wished her friends every joy, Sara felt her heart break as she watched Helen and Caspar clinging together. Was she ever going to find someone she wanted to be with who could return her love without seeing her as little more than an aristocratic trophy girl?

  Sara was so distracted that it took her a second to realise that the other partygoers were making a sudden rush towards her and what was left on the buffet table. Drat. She would have to work fast to stock up before the hordes descended. Good thing she was at the dessert end of the queue. And with that she turned back to the trolley.

  Only her way was blocked by the man in the cape. And as she moved forward and he turned towards her, her hand banged into his arm and some of Sara’s chocolate legs went flying onto the floor, narrowly missing his suit.

  ‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ she said, suddenly aware that she had not even realised that he was standing there as she reached across. ‘How clumsy of me.’

  Sara looked straight across into a pair of blue-grey eyes, the brightness backlit by the gentle light from a crystal chandelier over the buffet table. Their eyes locked for a moment, and something inside her flipped over. Several times.