Page 22 of Always

“I’d better check on the food, Papa,” Anika said. “We don’t want to run short on anything.”

“Never mind the food,” Bennet said. “You need to make friends with Marco if you can. Dominic’s been hinting constantly how he plans to turn the business over as soon as he can. With the ownership percentages as they are now, that boy is going to be running things. If you can work on him...show him how things ought to be done...”

“We’ve only just met,” Anika said. “I’m sure Dominic will work with him to make the transition as smooth as possible.”

“We’re in a very precarious position here,” Bennet said, highly agitated. His hand shook, spilling what Anika was sure was not his first or even his third drink. She wanted to remind him exactly whose fault it was that their position had become precarious—that their business was about to be taken over by a complete stranger.

But she remembered something her mother had said, one of the few times she had ever criticized her husband in front of Anika. She said “Your father has no capacity to change. Don’t exhaust yourself trying to make him into what he will never become.”

“I’ll try to help if I can,” she said. “Marco wants me to take him out this week, show him around. I’ll try to impress upon him what’s important—your creative freedom, your vision for the company.”

“Thank you,” Bennet said, pressing her hand.

Anika sighed. She still felt too hot, too flushed, and wished she had time to slip outside into the cool night air. But she really did need to check on the food, and the drinks, and a hundred other things that would ensure the party continued to run smoothly into the wee hours of the morning.

She looked back once more to see if James was still standing where he had been. Instead, she saw that Blaine had come to the gala, dressed up sharp in a navy tux. He seemed to be making headway in wooing Gwen back into his arms. At least, he had convinced her to do a kind of ridiculous Charleston with him, and Gwen was laughing.

With her sister thus distracted, Hannah had swooped in on James. James was waltzing her around the dance floor—he had always been a good dancer. Hannah gazed blissfully up into his face. James was smiling too.

Anika sighed and headed for the kitchen.

* * *

11

The gala was a great success. In the end, they raised almost three times what they’d hoped for the Red Line Charity, and in the magnanimous flush of all the compliments he’d received over the course of the night, Bennet even promised Anika that he would design a limited-edition sneaker and backpack to go along with the fall collection, 100% of the proceeds to be donated to the education fund. (“Or some percentage,” he muttered. “We can figure that part out later.”)

Even Stella had cheered up once she’d convinced Marco to dance with her twice, and also some scruffy blond who apparently was the child of a Baldwin, set to star in the next Greta Gerwig film.

The party hadn’t wrapped up until three in the morning, so Anika wasn’t surprised to see that as late as she was coming into work the next morning, Gwen and Hannah were even later. Calvin was already at his desk with an enormous styrofoam cup of Mountain Dew, but he appeared to be wearing his clothes from the night before, minus the suit jacket. So it was likely he had simply slept an hour or two in the sleeping bag he kept rolled up under his desk—for times when he wanted to avoid taking the train back out to Queens.

Gwen and Hannah rolled in an hour or so later, Gwen still wearing her false eyelashes from the night before, and Hannah looking reasonably coiffed, but yawning constantly.

“Gwen,” Anika said as soon as they walked in, “I’ve got some questions for you about the silent auction items...”

“We’re not actually going to work today, are we?” Hannah cried in dismay.

“We probably deserve a break,” Gwen agreed. “Considering how we absolutely crushed it last night.”

“You did,” Anika conceded with a smile.

“Good!” Hannah said, “Because I was thinking today we should just have Calvin hook up that thingy that plays Dance Dance Revolution, and we can eat all those trays of tiny cakes Gwen stole from the party, and—" She broke off because someone was coming up the stairs to the office.

“Oh, I thought James was going out to Hamptons today!” Hannah said, in happy surprise.

But it wasn’t James who pushed his head curiously through the office door. It was Marco Moretti.

He was wearing designer jeans and a fitted leather jacket, his dark wavy hair attractively tousled. He was also carrying a box of warm croissants and tray of lattes, of which Gwen quickly relieved him.

“Hello,” he said to Anika, “I know I said I’d call, but I wanted to see your office.”

“I’m impressed you managed to find it,” Anika said.

“It was a journey,” he grinned, wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead. Honestly, he didn’t look as if he had ever sweat in his life. Anika was struck again by his brilliant white teeth, his mischievous smile.

“Do you want the tour?” Anika asked.

The tour took five minutes through their cramped space.

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