“I’m not dumb,” she said. “Maybe a little drunk.”
“Hypothetically, no. I wouldn’t. And you better get back to your date.”
“He’s an idiot,” she said.
“We’ll just keep that to ourselves,” Nicholas replied.
I wasn’t surprised by Zoey’s antics, but I was still angry. I walked into the room glaring at her. “Let’s get out of here,” I said to Nicholas.
Zoey was either too drunk or too dumb to realize that I’d been listening. “Bye, Elise,” she said.
I didn’t answer her. I was fuming.
Nicholas took my arm. “Let’s go home.”
I didn’t say much on the way back to my apartment. Nicholas must have known how I was feeling because he didn’t pry. It had started snowing, and the BMW’s windshield wipers kept beat to the Christmas songs on the radio. The cheerful tunes were completely incongruent with the thoughts running through my head, which were definitely not peace on earth goodwill to men.
Outside my apartment door Nicholas asked, “Are you okay?”
I blew up. “I can’t believe she hit on you.”
“Yes you can,” he said calmly. “She was drunk.”
“She would have done it anyway.”
“Maybe.”
“Why are you defending her?”
“I’m not. But don’t go too hard on her. If she was happy with her life, she wouldn’t have come after me. And she’d been drinking.”
I took a deep breath. “I don’t have to like her.”
“No. But you do have to work with her. So you might as well keep things civil.”
“Civil,” I said angrily. “I want to pluck her eyelashes.”
Nicholas laughed. “Promise me you won’t do that. Or anything else. Just let it go.”
“But she’s a—”
He put a finger to my lips. “This is for your good,” he said. “Trust me. Promise me.”
Honestly, I liked that he was touching my lips. “All right,” I finally said. “Why do you have to be so rational?”
“It’s a habit.”
After a moment I said, “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“If it wasn’t for the contract, would you have hooked up with her?”
“No.”
“Why not? Everyone else wants to.”
“She’s not my type.”
“What’s your type?”
He just smiled. “Let me know when you figure that out.” He kissed me on the cheek. “Good night, Elise. I enjoyed being with you.” He started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “Oh, do you know what today is?”
“No.”
“It’s our midpoint. We’re halfway through our contract.” He turned and walked away.
I watched him walk out to his car before going inside. His final words hurt my heart even more than Zoey’s betrayal.
CHAPTER
Eighteen
Everyone has a dark and light side. How much we see of either is usually less a matter of the moon’s position than where we’re standing.
Elise Dutton’s Diary
In spite of my promise to Nicholas, the next day at work I treated Zoey coldly. I was still angry, hurt, and jealous, a perfect storm of emotion. Even if Nicholas wasn’t really mine, Zoey didn’t know that. She had scores of men and she went after mine. I’d never forgive her for being so cruel.
A little before noon Zoey brought a package into my office. “Here’s your present,” she said softly.
I glanced up only for a second, then went back to my work. “Just put it on the chair.”
“Okay,” she said. She didn’t leave my office.
After a minute I said, “Do you need something?”
“Elise, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I asked innocently, forcing her confession.
“I had too much to drink last night and I hit on Nicholas at the party. I feel really bad.”
“Why would you do that to me?” I asked, unleashing my anger. “What have I ever done to you?”
“I’m so sorry.” Her eyes began welling up with tears. She wiped at them. “I’m an idiot, I know it. And just so you know, Nick didn’t go for it for a second. He’s completely loyal to you.”
I still wasn’t in a mood to forgive her, so I didn’t say anything. Zoey started crying in earnest. She continued. “When I got home I was really mad at myself. I thought, What’s wrong with me? Why would I do that? Elise is such a good person.” She grabbed a Kleenex from my desk. “The thing is, I’m just really insecure inside. I have this need to prove myself. It’s like . . .” She shook her head. “This isn’t coming out right.” She took a deep breath, then said, “I’m sorry, okay? I’m just really jealous of you. Because, Nick is really great and he really loves you, and the guys I meet just love my body and the way I look and no one wants to keep me, they just want to use me. But Nick loves all of you. Inside and out. And you deserve that. You deserve a nice guy like him. You really do.” I couldn’t believe that Zoey was jealous of me. She looked at me, then said, “I’ll quit bothering you. But I’m sorry.” She turned to go.
“Zoey,” I said.
She slowly turned back, wiping her eyes.
“I understand.”
“You do?”
“I didn’t know you felt that way. I’ve judged you wrong. I’m sorry.”
After a minute she said, “Can I give you a hug?”
“Yes.”
I stood while Zoey came around my desk and put her arms around me. “I’ll never do that again,” she said. “I promise.”
“I know you won’t.”
“If I can do anything to make it up to you, just ask.”
I looked at her a moment before asking, “Do you really mean that?”
She nodded.
“I have some parties coming up with Nicholas, and I don’t have anything to wear.”
“You want to borrow my clothes?”
“Right,” I said. “I couldn’t fit this body into anything you own. But I’m not good with fashion. I’ve been out of the game for too long. And everyone he works with is rich and cool.”
She suddenly smiled. “You want me to dress you?”
“If you would.”
“I’d love to.”
“I don’t have much money.”
“We don’t need money,” she said. “I have friends. Can I work on your hair too?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll knock Nicholas off his feet,” she said. “I mean, you will. I’ll just help you.”
“Thank you.”
“When’s your next party?”
“Saturday night.”
“This Saturday?”
I nodded.
“Okay. I hope your Saturday is open, because we’ve got some work to do.”
CHAPTER
Nineteen
Nicholas is like a golden ticket.
Elise Dutton’s Diary
December first. Exactly one month since Nicholas had approached me in the food court. Zoey arrived at my apartment Saturday afternoon with a pile of dress bags, two large makeup boxes, a jewelry box, four shoe boxes, and a canvas bag filled with hair supplies. It took us three trips to get everything in from her car.
She had found me four dresses, all on “loan” from Nordstrom, where one of her ex-boyfriends was a manager. There were also several sets of matching jewelry for each dress.
All the dresses Zoey brought were stunning. I tried them all on, and Zoey snapped pictures of me with her phone. It took us an hour to settle on two. The one I would wear that night at the firm party was a black, form-fitting crepe sheath with a sheer top.
The other dress was the most expensive of the four: a one-shoulder nude evening gown with beads
. I decided to save it for the partners’ party, because we guessed it would be the fanciest of Nicholas’s events.
We looked through her boxes of shoes, and for the first dress I chose a simple but elegant pair of black patent leather pumps. For the partners’ party I chose a glittery pair of peep-toed high heels. Then we chose earrings and necklaces for both dresses.
With the dresses and accessories selected, we took a break and drove to the nearest Starbucks for a latte. After we got back we discussed my general look, experimenting with different shades of makeup for almost an hour. As Zoey worked on my makeup, she taught me some new techniques.
“You can teach an old dog new tricks,” I said.
Zoey stepped back to look at me. “You’re not old, and you’re not a dog. Never, ever call yourself that.”
“I was just joking,” I said.
“Especially joking,” she said. “Your subconscious mind doesn’t know the difference. You need to be your own best cheerleader.”
I was impressed by her counsel. There was a lot more to Zoey than I’d given her credit for.
Sitting in my kitchen, Zoey wasn’t the same girl I knew in the office. She was much more funny, relaxed, and vulnerable. She was also sweet. She kept telling me that with my natural beauty I didn’t need a makeover, just a few enhancements. “You don’t make over gorgeous,” she said.
I hadn’t had a girlfriend since Kayla had betrayed me, and it was wonderful to have female companionship again. I wondered if, in spite of the age difference, Zoey and I might be friends. Nicholas had brought me out of my cave, and I was going to need someone to do things with after our contract expired.
Zoey worked on my hair for over an hour and experimented with several shades of lipstick before finding the right one. Finally, she stepped back and scrutinized me like a sculptor examining her creation. She nodded, then said, “Oh my, Elise. You should look at yourself.”
I walked out to the hall mirror. I couldn’t believe it. “I look pretty,” I said.
“No, you look hot. He’s in serious trouble.”
While I was helping her pack up her things, Zoey said, “You and Nick are such a great couple. If you want, I’ll help you with your makeup at your wedding.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Finally I said, “I would like that.”
Zoey left just a few minutes before Nicholas arrived. He rang the doorbell at seven. “Come in,” I shouted, wanting to present myself properly.
He let himself in. “Hi, it’s me.”
“I’ll be out in just a minute. Help yourself to the fridge. I think there’s some soda and juice.”
A moment later he said, “There’s something green in a blender pitcher. Is it supposed to be green?”
“It’s not mold,” I said. “It just looks like it. That’s my kale drink.”
“Looks like kale,” he said, which sounded like ‘Looks like hell,’ which I think was his intent. “How was your day?”
“Good.”
“What did you do?”
“Not much,” I said. “Zoey came over.”
“After the other night, I’m surprised that you two are talking.”
“She apologized for coming on to you.”
I spritzed myself with perfume, took a good look at myself, then walked out into my front room. Nicholas was sitting on my couch. He immediately stood. “Wow.”
“What?” I asked innocently.
“You look amazing.”
I smiled. “Shall we go?”
Nicholas’s office party was held each year at La Caille, an expensive French restaurant tucked away on a twenty-acre reserve at the mouth of Little Cottonwood Canyon. I had been to the restaurant only once before, for a wedding of one of Dan’s co-workers, and I had never forgotten it. Housed in a stucco, ivy-covered French château, it had its own three-acre vineyard, and during the warmer months peacocks roamed the yard amid statuary and topiaries, while black and white swans glided in the swan pool. Tonight, the grounds were covered in snow and were extravagantly lit with strings of white lights.
Nicholas pulled his car up the restaurant’s tree-lined cobblestone drive to a roundabout near the front door. He handed his keys to the valet, then took my arm and led me inside. The lobby was exquisite, with a large antique chandelier and parquet-tile floor. Harpsichord music softly echoed through the tile and stucco interior.
The young hostess who greeted us looked like a model, and, as I remembered from the wedding, all the waitresses wore low-cut gowns that were presumably all the rage in eighteenth-century France.
“Your firm rents the entire restaurant?” I asked.
“Every year,” Nicholas said.
“What does that cost?”
“Enough,” he said with a pained smile.
We walked up a circular stairway to the main dining room, which was crowded with several hundred of the firm’s staff and guests. Everyone seemed pleased to see Nicholas.
“You’re very popular,” I said.
“Of course,” he said. “I’m a partner. I help decide what they get paid. Would you like something to drink? They have remarkable eggnog.”
“I would love an eggnog,” I said.
“Coming up.”
While I was waiting for Nicholas to return, a stunningly attractive woman in an eggplant-colored strapless evening gown walked up to me. “Hi, I’m Candace,” she said.
“Hi. I’m Elise.”
“You’re Nick’s girlfriend.”
“I . . .” I smiled. “Yes.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Something about the way she said it made me doubt her sincerity.
“Are you a legal secretary at the firm?” I asked.
She practically grimaced with disgust. “No, I’m a lawyer,” she said. “And what is it that you do?”
“I’m in travel,” I said.
“Travel,” she repeated lightly. “I avoid it if I can. I’m a diamond-level frequent flier with Delta.”
“That’s way too much time in the air,” I said.
“You’re telling me,” she replied. “How did you and Nicholas meet?”
“We just started talking in the food court.”
“The food court. At the office?”
“I know. Not very romantic.”
“I guess I need to start eating more fast food. This Paleo diet certainly isn’t doing anything for me.”
“I would disagree,” I said. “You look gorgeous.”
She seemed surprised by the compliment. “Thank you.”
Just then Nicholas returned, carrying two glasses. “Hello, Candace,” he said.
Both her expression and her body language changed as if someone had flipped a switch. “Hello, Nicholas.”
Nicholas handed me my drink. “One eggnog.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Candace is one of our more successful litigators,” Nicholas said.
“What he really means is that I have more billable hours than most.”
“That too,” he said, smiling.
She took a step toward him. “I heard about the Bellagio case. That should be interesting.”
“I might have to make a few research trips to Las Vegas.”
“Oh, that sounds painful. If you need any backup, I’d be happy to help.”
“Thanks for the offer,” he said.
“Think about it,” she said. “Have a good night.” She glanced at me once more, then said rather stiffly, “It was nice to meet you, Alicia.” She turned and walked off.
I stood there, a little stunned.
“Sorry about that, Alicia,” Nicholas said.
“Was that intentional?”
“Probably.” He took my arm. “Come on, let me introduce you to some of the others.”
I followed Nicholas from
one side of the restaurant to the other as he shook hands and introduced me to what seemed like a hundred strangers. Near the center of the room I was glad to see Scott and Sharon Hitesman. While Nicholas and Scott talked, Sharon sidled up to me.
“Elise, you look stunning.”
“Thank you. And thank you again for letting me crash your Thanksgiving dinner.”
“You have no idea how glad I was to finally see Nicholas with someone. He deserves someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” I said.
She smiled at me. “Someone who makes him happy.”
A minute later Nicholas returned to my side to resume our tour of the floor. He was definitely well liked. And, with the exception of Candace’s snub, everyone was friendly.
“Hungry?” Nicholas asked.
“I’m starving.”
“Me too. Enough of this obligatory socializing, let’s eat.”
Like the surroundings, the fare was extravagant—the opposite of my office party. Actually, everything was the opposite of my office party. Instead of a plastic Tupperware bowl filled with ice and beer, there were silver ice buckets with expensive wines and a large ice sculpture of a swan.
“It’s not Cafe Rio,” Nicholas said, “but it’s edible.”
“It may surprise you, but I actually eat more than Cafe Rio.”
“Yes, I’ve seen you eat turkey,” he said. “And steak. And Chinese food.”
“And Thai,” I added.
“I think I’m getting through to you,” he said, setting some shrimp on his plate. “I love shrimp.”
“I love shrimp, too,” I said.
“I’ll get enough for both of us.” He loaded up his own plate, then pointed at some other things for me to get. Salmon on rice, roast chicken, crab-stuffed mushrooms, quiche, Brie and pâté de foie gras with crackers, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and puff pastries shaped like swans.
We carried our plates up the stairs to a small dining room where there was only one other couple. Nicholas found us a quiet place tucked in the corner behind the servers’ station.