by herself, without even a blanket of snow to make her feel cozy in her empty apartment with her eighteen-inch plastic tree and the cookies Olivia’s mom would mail to her.
She swallowed. Desperate to get her mind off her troubles, she said the first thing that popped into her head. “So how was your day?”
He sniffed. “Same. Kinda boring.”
“Really? Rich wheeler-dealer like you has boring days?”
He hesitated, as if he really didn’t want to talk anymore, but he said, “It was fun when I started out. Now things are routine.”
“Maybe you need a new venture.”
“A new venture?”
“You know. Instead of writing new video games, invent a different kind of microwave popcorn. Try taking that to market. I’ll bet you’ll meet some challenges.”
He laughed. “Microwave popcorn?”
“Hey, my dad loves the stuff...” Even as the words flipped out of her mouth, her heart tugged. Her stomach plummeted. As gruff and socially conscious as her parents were, they were her family and they didn’t want her.
How could she miss people who didn’t want her around?
Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. Someone’s knocking on the door. I’ve gotta run. See you Thursday night. In a gown.”
She didn’t wait for his reply, just clicked off, tossed her phone to the sofa and laid her head on her knees. She refused to be pathetic, refused to let tears fall for the loss of people who didn’t want her. She’d done that enough in her twenty-five years. All she wanted was a job, a way to support herself. And once she got it, she’d be fine.
She repeated that mantra as she went to bed, got up, showered, dressed for work, jumped on the subway, rode up in the average elevator to the law office and made coffee for the senior partners, none of whom even acknowledged her existence.
THURSDAY NIGHT RICKY walked up the four flights of stairs to Eloise’s apartment, trepidation riding his blood. Every Christmas decoration reminded him of his son. Even the cold air reminded him of bundling Blake in a snowsuit, buying knit caps.
Wanting to roll up in a ball of misery and privately mourn Blake, he was tempted by thoughts of ending this charade. He could bow out of the rest of the parties. All he had to do was go to Jamaica or Monaco, and everybody would be jealous of his vacation. Nobody would wonder why he wasn’t attending any more of the parties.
Except Eloise didn’t have a job. Taking her to these events was his best way of keeping her in front of his friends who might want to hire her. Lord knows, sending emails hadn’t worked.
Not sure what he’d find when she came to the door, he sucked in a breath before he knocked. When the door opened, she stood before him looking beautiful in a simple straight gown. Red and shiny, it complimented her hair, which she’d put in some curly creation on top of her head and spun thin tinsel through.
“You look great.” The words popped out naturally, and he almost shook his head in wonder that just seeing her had him feeling better.
When she smiled, relief poured through him. It would have been a long night if she’d been as depressed as she had been on Sunday morning and in their phone call. Instead, she’d pulled herself together. He admired that.
He returned her smile. “Every dress gets better.”
She laughed as she handed him her black cape. “That’s because the closer we get to the actual holiday, the more Christmas-y I feel. Just wait till you see what I’m pondering for Christmas Eve.”
They walked to the limo and, when Norman opened the door, they slid in. With the advanced stage of the season, more and more shops and apartment windows were decorated for the holiday. Bright lights winked. Tinsel blew in the bitter breezes. Because it was cold, everything had a sparkly, icy look, but it wasn’t quite as pretty as if there had been snow.
“I like snow too.”
He spun to face her. Had he said that out loud? “I...um...grew up near the Finger Lakes.” Damn. So much for trying not to be personal. “By now, they’re probably knee-deep in the white stuff.”
“Probably? You don’t know?”
He peeked at her. “If there’s snow?”
She nodded.
He winced. “I haven’t talked to my parents in a while.”
She said, “Oh. Okay,” as if she understood. And he supposed if anybody understood complicated relationships with parents, it would be her.
But that only reminded him of how difficult her life was, and when she turned away from him, that ridiculous sadness for her filled him again. Fighting it, he squeezed his eyes shut. She would be fine. Once he helped her land a job, she’d be ecstatic. He did not have to feel sorry for her.
They walked into the hotel, and he dropped off their outerwear at the coat check. Just before they entered the ballroom, he saw her shift her face and change her countenance. She formed a smile big enough to remove the sad expression in her eyes, but he saw no light in them. Then she slid her hand in the crook of his elbow and they walked into the ballroom.
Guilt buffeted him. She was going the whole nine yards for him and he wasn’t really doing anything for her.
Seated with another group of his friends, he held out her chair as he made quick introductions, and the discussion immediately zoomed to stock options.
This was why he’d never worried that anyone at any of the parties they attended would tell Eloise about Blake. His friends didn’t talk about anything but business. And the wives who didn’t join in on the discussion of stocks and strategies generally sat dutifully at the husbands’ sides or chatted among themselves about inconsequential, party-worthy topics, not ridiculously sad things that would bring everybody down. He wasn’t saying they were fake. They were more like courteous. Proper.
Still, with his mission in mind, he tried to work human resources into the conversation but couldn’t. Frustration wound through him. No wonder Eloise couldn’t find a job. No one seemed to care about the administration of their projects. All they cared about was the project itself.
When the dancing started, he and Eloise moved to the dance floor. He slid his hand across the smooth material covering her back. Attraction slithered through him. With every inch of his heart and soul, he longed to pull her to him and just give her what she needed. A little bit of affection. But although he might be able to hug her tonight, maybe kiss her, who knew what he’d be like tomorrow? And if he held her tonight, kissed her tonight and then couldn’t get out of bed the next day because of debilitating grief...wouldn’t he hurt her?
Yes. He would. And he refused to do that to her.
Needing to get his mind off how good she felt, he said, “So this is a pretty nice party.”
She met his gaze and smiled. “They’re all wonderful.”
“I’m glad you enjoy them.”
“I do.”
His conscience tweaked again. While he took all this for granted, she was happy to get a good meal and a nice glass of wine, even though he basically ignored her. With the exception of dancing, he was generally occupied with his friends, and when he wasn’t, his fear of getting too close kept him from really talking to her.
“Even with a grouch like me?”
She laughed lightly. “Oh, you’re not so bad.”
But he was. He knew he was. Ever since she’d told him about being alone and made him realize he had an abundance of things to be thankful for, he’d seen the signs. Short