Page 52 of Suddenly Dating
A valet had divested Harry of his key, and the truck was already inching along a very crowded drive, back up to the road, where cars were being parked along the shoulder. This was no small party; there had to be one hundred cars parked in and around the property.
Lola looked up at the sprawling mansion. She had guessed that Mallory came from money, but this was insane.
“Nice,” Harry said.
“It looks like a hospital,” Lola said.
“I don’t think it’s going to look like one inside.” Harry casually put his hand to the small of her back, ushering her to the front door.
It was opened by a uniformed man who pointed them in the direction of booze and food—straight through a very crowded living room. The room itself was the size of a hotel lobby, and was dressed in white furnishings. In the corner, a man played a baby grand piano. Waiters in black waistcoats sailed through the crowd with trays held high above their heads. And the people! There were dozens of them, women milling about, dazzled with jewels and expensive designer sheaths, and men dressed like Harry. Lola was intimidated by all the finery. She felt out of place in her little green cocktail dress.
“Would you like a drink?” Harry asked.
“Not yet,” Lola said. Her palms were damp, and she resisted the urge to wipe them on her dress. Somewhere in this crowd, Birta Hoffman was lurking, and Lola could feel all of her well-rehearsed lines rapidly fading from her brain. She was out of place. She didn’t belong at a fancy party like this. Where the hell was Mallory?
“Let’s go have a look outside,” Harry suggested, and once again, steered her along with that giant hand to the small of her back. But this time, his thumb was singeing a tiny patch of her skin, and Lola was acutely aware of its heat. She was aware of the glances from women as they passed, too, checking out the hunk that was Harry. A few of the glances raked over her, too. No one had to tell her she wasn’t supposed to be with a guy like him.
Outside, the view of the lake was spectacular. There were multiple levels of decks, all of them festooned with lights and flowers, all of them joining to create a giant staircase down to a grassy lawn, which swept down and bled into a white sand beach. There was a double boat dock, and even that had been dressed for the party.
Scores of people milled about here, too. Two levels down from the house, a three-piece string ensemble played lovely, lilting tunes that seemed to Lola to drift up into the night air. And on the boat dock, a duo sang popular songs from the Billboard charts.
Lola and Harry had wandered through the entire party, neither of them seeing anyone they knew. “I don’t know how we are ever going to find your friend in this crowd,” Harry said.
“I know,” Lola agreed. “I had no idea about... this,” she said, gesturing to the big fancy house and its many decks, the glittering people.
“It’s a much bigger event than a party,” Harry said. He frowned slightly at Lola. “What’s the matter?”
Lola turned toward the bar, putting her back to the tony people walking past. “I feel out of place,” she said low, glancing around her. “I shouldn’t have come. I can’t meet Birta Hoffman in a place like this. I should wait until I run into her at the coffee shop. I—”
“Hey, hey,” Harry said, and caressed her arm. “Relax.It’s a party.” He snatched a glass of champagne off the tray of a waiter walking through the crowd and handed it to her. “Drink it. Calm down. You’re not out of place any more than anyone else here tonight. Who the hell are these people? No one,” he said, looking around him, apparently unbothered by the crush of bodies.
Lola drank from the champagne, then set it down. “I need a napkin.”
Harry shifted to his left, leaned across a temporary bar and asked the bartender for a martini, and handed Lola a napkin.
“See?” Lola said as she wiped her palms. “Martini. That’s what all of these people probably drink,” she said, noticing the number of highball glasses people were holding. “I’ve never known anyone who drinks martinis, and I worked in a law firm.”
“Am I maybe misreading the situation?” Harry asked curiously, making a swirling motion at Lola’s face. “Because you seem on the verge of losing your shit.”
“Yes!” Lola whispered loudly. “Completely on the verge!”
“Hmm,” Harry said. He turned back to the bartender. “Make it two.”
“No!”Lola hissed, glancing around her to see if anyone had heard. “I cannot get blotto before I meet Birta Hoffman.”
“You’re not going to get blotto from one drink,” he scoffed.
“You don’t know me, Harry. I’m a super lightweight.”
He suddenly grinned and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You didn’t look so lightweight to me when you were putting down the nachos today.”
“Hey! That was different! I had to if I was going to get any of them, because you were going to eat them all! Why are you always so hungry, anyway?”
“Baby, I’m a grown man with a grown man’s appetite,” he said, and winked at her as he accepted the drinks from the bartender. He handed her one of them. “Just sip it, nice and easy. It’s not water.” He touched his glass to hers, then tasted the concoction, and nodded approvingly.
Lola peered down at the clear drink with the little row of olives floating serenely on top. She hesitantly tasted it and immediately wrinkled her nose. It tasted like kerosene. But it also left a trail of warmth in her that she liked. She sipped again.
“Easy,” Harry reminded her.
