Page 89 of Betting on the Best Friend
As if she recognizes it too, she closes her mouth and takes a breath deep enough for me to see it expand the, uh, chest part of her dress.
She tilts her head and reaches out to touch my shirt. “Nice shirt. Is it new?”
I nod, then, cursing myself for being more awkward than I have ever been around her, I add, “Nice dress.”
She smiles down at it. “Not new. Thrifted, and my mom tailored it for me.”
Should have known. It’s not tight, but it fits so well it almost looks like it was sewn onto her. I glance around and point at the dark-pink flowers in the nearest centerpiece. “You match those.”
“Peonies,” she says. “I’ll take it.”
Now I’m staring at her lips, which instead of her trademark red, are a softer version of her dress color. They quirk on one side, and I pull my gaze away to scan the room, looking for something to bail me out of drowning in her.
“What can I help with? The trellises?” It’s a stupid question. The centerpieces are fresh flowers but the trellises are done with artificial flowers the library borrows, and they would have had volunteers working on them yesterday. Each table has been designed by someone different too, volunteers who enjoy the art of setting a table and who supply their own china, napkins, and flatware. I’d never thought of setting a table as an art until I attended the first tea. These ladies win ribbons at fairs and stuff, and I can see why.
Ruby glances around. “It’s good in here. Check on Sandy in the office. She wanted to see you about the conference, and while you’re there, see if you can help with the ticketing issue?”
“Sure.” Relief flickers in her eyes before she turns away with a smile to give the caterer another instruction.
I walk into the back office to find Sandy, wondering what Ruby’s relief means. I’m sure she’s glad I’m here. Is it related to her nervous chatter? Seeing me made her nervous, and space from me is a relief. Is that it? If so, what are the nerves for?
In the short moments it takes me to reach the offices, I decide to drop it. One of the very best parts of being Ruby-and-Charlie is how easy it’s always been. I changed that with my confession, and I’m going to start fixing it now.This is Ruby. Let it be easy.
Five minutes before the event starts, the ticketing problem is solved and I go back to the event room with an iPad, ready to check people in as they arrive.
“Come be a greeter, Ruby,” Sandy says, sailing past me into the room. “Keep up small talk as Charlie checks their reservation, and it’ll make the wait feel shorter. You’ll recognize enough of the guests to keep this moving.”
Ruby nods and joins me by the door, carrying a nest of cream feathers and sparkles. “One last thing. Time to fascinate. Camera?”
I open the iPad and flip it so she can check her reflection. She settles her fascinator on her dark hair, sliding in a couple of hairpins to secure it. The “nest” resolves into a profusion of artful feathers, some short and thick, others tall and willowy, almost like miniature sheaves of wheat. A thin, glittery ribbon weaves through it all. It’s scaled to Ruby’s size but it’s dramatic, and I’m sure Madison would say the cream pops against the pink and especially Ruby’s hair.
She nods and I switch back to the reservation list. “Definitely fascinating,” I tell her as she readies her social smile.
“Simple dress to let the millinery shine.” She gives the fascinator a soft pat. “I liked the contrast.”
The guests will arrive soon since it’s considered poor form to be late to tea, and sure enough, we’re already two-thirds of the way through the list within ten minutes. The hum of social chatter rises above the soft rock piano music Sandy has playing, and the familiar vibe of the tea takes hold. It’s hard to explain. There’s a carefree energy that’s gentle without being muted. It’s pleasant in the truest sense. Uncomplicated and novel as people do something enjoyable and outside of their comfort zones as they wear their teatime best and exclaim over each other’s headwear.
Which makes it more jarring when Ruby freezes. It’s only a split second, but I follow her eyes until I see what caught her, and I choke on a cussword that wouldn’t go over well at a society tea.
Niles and his fiancée are waiting to check in.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ruby
I’ve been holding myselftogether by a thread this afternoon.
No, since the Pitch-a-Friend.
I have craved and dreaded every text Charlie has sent me.Hooray, it’s Charlie! But what if he’s going to tell me he’s going out with someone from the event?
Every time it’s been a low-key check-in, I’ve breathed easier.
I’m not an idiot. I understand why.
Clarification: I’m not an idiotanymore.
If Pitch-a-Friend hadn’t been the wakeup call, Sami’s show would have been.
