Now they watched as a burly guy opened the back door of the limo, then held his arm out to shield the occupants from the few stray tourists who clustered around, their phones held up, ready to document the event. In the restaurant where they sat, the piped-in sounds of Dean Martin singing “That’s Amore” became the soundtrack to the commotion outside while Ellie and Mia provided the director’s cut commentary.
A man exited the car first, a young guy with swooped-back hair, cut long on top and shaved close on the sides. “I know who that is!” Mia exclaimed. “It’s Vance!”
“Who?” Dalton asked.
“Vance,” Ellie repeated. “You know, Cece Vanderhaven’s friend Vance. Hashtag gay boyfriend?”
The name was familiar. Not the hashtag part with the gay boyfriend, but the last name. Vanderhaven. Dalton’s father had done some big deals with a Mr. Harry Vanderhaven, and Dalton had met the man once very briefly at his dad’s office. All the administrative assistants working that day were in awe of him, fighting over who would bring in the coffee, admiring his coat (which one of them had taken, supposedly to hang), and trying on his gloves. Dalton didn’t think much work got done that day. He really didn’t understand why people idolized the rich. It was different if they became rich by doing something clever—inventing something or building something—but just by inheriting wealth or having investments accrue over time? It seemed pretty random, but then again, he knew a lot of people who were extremely well off, and he’d also met a fair amount of people who were struggling to get by from one month to the next. If he had to estimate, he’d guess there were approximately the same percentage of jerks in each group. People were people.
“Whoa, that’s Katrina!” Mia said, her face pressed close to the glass. “I am obsessed with her, like, completely obsessed. She’s so funny. I love when things don’t go well and she makes that face.”
“When she scrunches up her nose?” Ellie said. “Yeah, that always cracks me up too.”
The woman they were talking about paused by the car to let the bystanders film her, then stopped to sign something for a little girl in pigtails. She called out to the crowd, and in response, there was a roar of approval.
“That Katrina is nice to everyone,” Ellie said. “She’s so down to earth.”
“Right?” her sister said. “I feel like I know her.”
Dalton watched as Katrina took a step back and did a little game-show flourish toward the car. A second later, out came a woman whose very presence made the crowd go wild while her security detail closed ranks to protect her. Videographers on both sides of the street filmed the scene with bulky cameras that rested on their shoulders. Professionals. They’d obviously known this was going to be happening. The street, too, was now curiously absent of any other cars, as if someone had arranged to have traffic rerouted.
“Oh, man, it’s Cece Vanderhaven!” Mia said with a squeal. At some point, she’d gotten her phone out and was now taking pictures through the glass. “I’m posting these for sure. My friend Taylor is going to be so jealous. She’s been stalking Cece online for the longest time. She’s got a lot of her clothes, and I think she’s got her entire jewelry line too.”
Dalton had to admit that Cece Vanderhaven made a big entrance. Her clothing, for one thing. She wore a red dress with a wide skirt, pinstripe stockings, and red shoes. “Her shoes are totally perfect,” Mia said in approval, still clicking photos. Cece stopped, her hand still on the car door. As the security people hustled her away from the car and toward the restaurant, she occasionally reached through their protective circle to touch fingers with an admirer or pat a child on the head.
When Cece and friends, accompanied by the security team, were on the sidewalk heading into the restaurant, the car door swung open again, but this time no one seemed to notice. A young woman stepped out hesitantly, like she wasn’t sure about what to do next.
“Who’s that?” Mia asked.
Ellie shook her head. “I’ve never seen her before. She must be an assistant or something.”
The woman gingerly shut the car door, took a step, then stopped as if frozen in place. Dalton sat up and leaned toward the window, wanting a closer look. Something about her captured his attention. He watched as she tucked her hair behind her ear and concentrated, her lips moving, head nodding slightly. Suddenly, he knew what she was doing. Counting down. He mentally joined her. Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. After she’d reached the end, she exhaled and straightened up, her posture one of resolve. When she glanced toward the pizzeria, Dalton gave her a thumbs-up. Meeting his gaze, she grinned, returning the thumbs-up gesture before heading off, going around the car and melting into the crowd.
“Did you know her?” Ellie asked, her eyes widening in amazement.
“No,” Dalton said. “I never saw her before.”
“Huh,” Ellie said, her expression thoughtful. “She sure looked like she knew you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The plan was simple enough. Vance had jokingly said even a child could do it, which had made Greta so nervous, it had completely ratcheted up the pressure. Once she’d memorized his instructions, it was the timing that worried her the most.
Greta was told to wait while Vance, Katrina, and Cece left the vehicle. “We’ll be exiting on the street side,” Vance said. He continued on, saying that once they had walked around the limo and were on the sidewalk, she was to get out, count down slowly from ten, and then follow them into the restaurant. “You’ll most likely have to fight through the crowd,” he said. “Just go into the entryway of the restaurant and give the person at the front desk your name, and they’ll bring you back to the table.”
Greta had peppered them with questions. Why get out on the street side? Why not just take the quickest path from the car to the building, and exit the car on the passenger side? That way they’d be on the sidewalk first thing. “Believe me, we have our reasons for everything,” Katrina said. “The road will be blocked off, so we don’t have to worry about traffic, and we’ll be leaving the car on the driver’s side so that both cameras get good footage. It also prolongs the entrance.” Prolonging the entrance made it more dramatic, she explained. And having Greta join the table after they’d been seated would make her stand out. “Everyone is going to wonder who you are, which is exactly the way we want it.” Every public step of Cece’s life was planned, strategized, and implemented accordingly.
Vance took over the conversation from there, putting his hand on Greta’s shoulder in a friendly way. “You’ll leave the car after the rest of us, so it will look almost like we forgot about you. Get out, mentally count down from ten, and then close the car door and follow us in. Got it?” He leaned toward her with a smile, his teeth so perfect and white, they were distracting.
“Yes.” Greta nodded. Vance had said they wanted today’s footage to show how she didn’t quite fit in yet. At the end of her character arc, she’d be transformed, resembling the rest of them in style and confidence. Bit by bit, they’d let the hair, makeup, and wardrobe people do their magic. Then, at that point, they’d create a montage of Greta’s transformation from awkward nerd to self-assured fashion-savvy woman. But first, they needed her to be awkward.
Funny, but she didn’t really feel like an awkward nerd. She’d always considered herself to be kind of pretty and of average weight and height. It was only in New York that she felt the need to lose some weight and make more effort with her appearance. Standards of beauty, she reflected, only became standard because somebody had deemed them so. She’d once read the autobiography of a silent film actress who’d said that back in the 1920s, women were considered beautiful if they had eyes bigger than their mouths. That was the look then, but it wasn’t the yardstick for attractiveness now. Chinese women had their feet bound because tiny feet were revered, and in ancient Greece, a unibrow was considered beautiful. When you looked back, it was all so random.
“You’re going to do great,” Vance said, sensing her uncertainty. Even
if he didn’t mean it, Greta still found it encouraging. She could do the lacking-in-confidence part with no problem at all. Hopefully, she would grow along with her fictitious character so that she ended up being as sophisticated as they wanted her to be.
When they pulled up in front of the restaurant, a small crowd had already formed on the sidewalk. “It’s like they knew we were coming,” Greta said, peering through the glass.
“They did,” Vance said. “We posted our lunch plans before we left. Some of them are hired actors.”
After the limousine came to a stop, the crowd pressed against the windows. The fans’ faces were distorted, fun-house–mirror versions of their actual selves. “You’re perfectly safe,” Cece assured her. “I know it seems scary, but most of them just want pictures.” Even so, Greta was glad when the security detail arrived and herded the fans away from the car.
After the driver let them know it was clear to get out, they left in order: Vance, then Katrina, and finally Cece. Before Cece left, she gave Greta one last hug. “Oh, Greta,” she said, eyes shining. “I love that you’re here this summer.”
After the three of them were on the other side of the car, Greta got out, closed the door, and began counting down. With all the attention focused on Cece, Vance, and Katrina, no one in the crowd noticed her. As she counted, her gaze shifted from one end of the street to the other, finally landing on a pizza place across the street.
Through the front window, she saw a guy sitting at a table across from two girls. She felt him watching her, and as she finished counting down—three, two, one—she noticed in amazement that his head was nodding slightly in time. It looked like his lips were moving, saying the numbers along with her. He couldn’t have known she was counting, but somehow, he did. Making fun of her? No, she didn’t think so.
When she finished counting, she made a point to turn his way. In response, he flashed a grin and gave her a thumbs-up. She smiled and returned the gesture.
When Greta got to the crowd pulsing just outside the front door, one of the security guys broke rank to escort her through the crush and into the restaurant, then abruptly left once she was in front of the host stand. Two men stood behind the elevated desk. “Hi, I’m Greta Hansen, here to join the Vanderhaven party?”
From the look on his face, they’d been briefed and expected her. This outing was turning out to be an eye-opener. She’d watched Cece’s videos for years, always assuming they were impromptu, fun clips of her cousin’s actual life. If she’d given it any thought at all, she would have guessed it was scripted. How did they manage to get shots from all angles, for one thing? And they were always perfectly attired, even when they wore jammies and watched movies in Cece’s gigantic bed. Why didn’t that ever strike her as odd? Probably because she wanted it to be true.
Greta consoled herself with the notion that even if most of this was fake, Cece’s reaction to her arrival had to be genuine. Cece really had been delighted that Greta had come to stay for the summer.
The host escorted her to the table and pulled out a chair next to Cece. As she sat, he said, “We’re glad you could join us today at Bellemont, Ms. Hansen.”
Cece leaned over and squeezed her arm. “This is my cousin, Greta,” she told the host. “Here for the summer.”
“How lovely to be officially introduced,” he said, with a slight bow. “I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay in New York.”
“Thank you.”
Wine had been ordered for the table ahead of time, and the server poured her a glass as well. Vance and Katrina made small talk, joking and laughing as they went, and Cece went along with it, smiling when appropriate. The group was on their second glass of wine when two fans, women in their early thirties, approached the table, asking if they could get a picture with Cece.
“Of course!” Cece said. Now she was in her element, asking their names and where they were from. Both of them were New Yorkers. This was a business lunch for them. “How lucky that we happened to be here at the same time!” Cece exclaimed, as if it were her luck and not the other way around.
The first woman crouched down to Cece’s level and took a selfie of the two of them. Several selfies. Her friend recorded the whole exchange with her phone. The surrounding tables stopped talking to watch.
“Let me see!” Cece said, and the woman showed her the images on her phone. “Nice,” she murmured at the sight of one, and then, “Oh, that’s a good one of you. Great smile.” You’d have thought that she and this woman were good friends. Greta took a sip of wine and looked on, seeing the pleasure in Cece’s face at making these women so happy. In the background, silverware clinked on dishes, and jazz music softly played.
“Can I post this online?” the woman asked.
“Certainly,” Cece said. “I’ll watch for it.”
“Thank you!”
“Do you want to take Greta’s picture?” Cece asked, motioning toward her cousin.
“No, that’s okay . . . ” She started to object, but Cece kept going, her words drowning out her objection.
“Greta is my cousin. She’s here visiting from Wisconsin!” Cece’s voice rang with enthusiasm.
Greta felt a warm wine flush of love toward Cece for wanting to pull her into the spotlight. She remembered a conversation she’d had with Jacey when she’d first gotten the internship. Jacey had warned her that Cece was probably a snobby bitch, but luckily, she’d been completely wrong.
“Do you mind?” the woman asked, holding her phone up.
“Not at all.”
She crouched next to her. Greta smiled as the phone made faint clicking noises.
Cece kept talking. “I’ve wanted to meet Greta for the longest time, and I’m so excited that she’s finally here.”
“Sounds like you have some competition,” the woman teased Vance and Katrina. “Before you know it, Greta is going to be Cece’s best friend.”
“We’d be fine with that,” Vance said with a smile. “Right, Katrina?”
Katrina made her goofy face, the one with the wrinkled nose, and lifted her shoulders as if to say, What are you gonna do? “I’m good with it. Whatever makes Cece happy, that’s all we care about.”
The woman who was recording video asked, “So what do you say, Cece? Is Greta your new best friend?”
“Yes,” Cece said, giving Greta a warm smile. “Absolutely. Greta is my new best friend.”
The woman filming said, “So what do the old best friends have to say about that?”
Vance grinned. “We’ll gladly step aside to let the cousins have their day in the sun. It’s only fair. Katrina and I have had a good run, and if we need to be replaced by someone, I can’t think of anyone better than Greta. Cece, we approve.”
“Here, here,” Katrina said, lifting her glass in solidarity.
Vance lifted his glass as well, looking straight at the woman who was filming. “I’d like to make a toast to Greta Hansen, our replacement and Cece’s new best friend. I couldn’t have chosen better myself.”
“To Greta Hansen,” Cece said, her face flushed with happiness. “My cousin and my new best friend.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dalton knew he’d never met that girl, but something happened when they locked eyes for that brief moment. He felt that click, that connection, that intangible thing that happens when someone comes along, and at first sight, there’s that flash of recognition.
He’d had a similar thing happen when he’d met his friend Will freshman year. It was the first day at the university, and their RA had organized a get-acquainted hall meeting. All the freshmen were checking each other out and walking around introducing themselves, while Will leaned back against a wall, his arms folded across his chest. He had a look of complete indifference, like he’d rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else. When a few of the girls started giggling and tossing popcorn at each other, Will caught Dalton’s eye and shook his head as if the two of them were the adults, amused by the antics of children. Like they were already fri
ends, and he knew Dalton was thinking the same thing he was.
As it turned out, Will didn’t think he was above anyone else. He just hated organized group events. People on their floor found out that he was a good guy, smart and funny. Later on, he said Dalton had seemed familiar too. They were complete strangers who knew each other at first sight.
It was like that times a hundred when Dalton had spotted the young woman across the street. He’d watched as Cece Vanderhaven and her friends left the limousine, looking all glam like they were going to be sitting in the front row at a fashion show. Not this woman, though. She wasn’t dressed trendy at all. Instead, she wore a dress with a short-sleeved sweater over it, making her look like every kid’s favorite kindergarten teacher. The other three each had a head of hair that looked like they’d just stepped out of a salon. Her hair hung loosely over her shoulders, one side tucked behind her ear. The way she got out of the limo, so unsure, made her seem all the more endearing.
He recognized something in this young woman. Her hesitance showed a tender vulnerability. It made him want to take her hand and tell her everything was going to be fine.
Or maybe she could take his hand and do the same for him.
Ellie and Mia kept talking about Cece and her friends long after the limo pulled away and the crowd dispersed. It was Vance this and Katrina that. They knew everything about Cece’s life. It was kind of amazing, really. Dalton kept eating his pizza and nodding sociably. When an employee came and offered to refill his root beer, he gratefully accepted.
After a while, Ellie pushed her plate away and said, “Dalton, it’s so weird that we ran into you right after you’d met Matt.”
“Yeah, that was a major coincidence.”
Mia said, “It happened because we were in Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. The whole thing was orchestrated from above.” She pointed up at the ceiling tiles and nudged her sister. “Maybe Grandma is behind it.”
Good Man, Dalton Page 10
