Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Still… I can’t get that man out of my mind. I know he’s out there. As long as I’m not alone with him, I should be okay. Open dinner and jet. I can do this.
“Gimme a sec,” I say, grabbing my Hermès knockoff from where I stashed it in the butler’s pantry. All my real bags have long been sold online or consigned.
I don’t have my good makeup, but I have some lipstick and powder I always carry, which I apply quickly. I unknot my hair and shake it out, letting it fall over my shoulders and nearly to my elbows. Lupe, Deja, and I have stuck to our pledge over the last month not to cut our hair, so it’s a little unruly. It is healthy, though, and longer than it’s been since high school.
Delores runs her glance up and down me, shaking her head at my minitransformation. “It’s like magic.”
“Magic, huh?” I scoff. “Wish I could make myself disappear. Let’s get this over with.”
The huge dining room is packed, and I immediately note many familiar faces. I lift my chin a notch, refusing to be cowed by any judgment or speculation. In a quick scan of the round tables, I don’t see Judah. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed, but I need to power through this and go home.
“Good evening, everyone,” I say, giving the room a slow sweep with a relaxed smile. “I’m Soledad Charles.”
I pause to let that sink in. I may have been on Edward’s arm the last time they saw me, but I’ve shaken that man off, and even his name is no longer attached.
“It’s been my great honor to prepare the food for this evening.”
To my utter surprise, many applaud. Some whoop. I’m not sure if it’s a ringing endorsement of my rumored competence in the kitchen or an indictment of Eileen’s past cuisine. Probably the latter.
“Thank you,” I acknowledge. “We have four courses tonight. The first course…”
Movement at the door distracts me. I falter when my eyes lock with Judah’s. He stops at the threshold, making no move to find his seat but simply staring back at me. My heart stammers and my pulse leaps. Dragging my gaze away, I refocus on the roomful of waiting guests.
“Where was I?” I ask, clearing my throat. “Oh, yes. The first course is a simple salad of spinach, feta, olives, and tomatoes. What makes this special is the vinaigrette. Some of you may have heard it called my ‘viral vinaigrette.’”
I smile when several people whistle and tap their plates lightly with the silverware.
I zip through the other three courses and the wine selections and end with the dessert.
“A variety of desserts are courtesy of Skyland Bakery,” I conclude, “located in Skyland Square. I hope you’ll love what you taste tonight and try them again later.”
Now that I’ve gotten through what I need to say to people I hoped never to see again, I allow myself to really look. I don’t find any judgment or dislike. Only curiosity and, if I’m not mistaken, goodwill.
“It was great seeing so many of you again,” I say. “I wish you all the best and a happy holiday.”
I nod to Rhea, who stands at the entrance with her small contingency of servers behind her. On my cue she and the others come in, carrying plates of delicious-smelling food. I start toward the door, carefully avoiding the side of the room where I saw Judah settle. I’d hoped to get out fast, but people keep stopping me. They tell me it’s good to see me, that they’ve been watching my posts. One young VP even tugs me to the side and whispers that she’s started dating herself once a week.
“That’s amazing.” I squeeze her hand and share a smile with her.
“My last partner cheated on me,” she goes on. “At first I felt like I lost the love of my life, but taking this time for myself, now I realize without honesty and respect, that wasn’t actually love.”
The word “cheated” tears through me like a Band-Aid being ripped off. Does she know Edward cheated? Surely they all do. The affair with Amber was an integral part of cracking the case. Everyone knows how he betrayed me, and suddenly I just want to get out of here. Not to be the object of anyone’s scrutiny. Or worse, their pity.
“I’m so glad you’re enjoying this process,” I tell her with all sincerity. “It’s been transformational for me too. You’ll have to excuse me now, though, because I need to get home to my girls. Have a good one.”
Lupe is old enough for them to stay alone, which they do all the time, but I need to get out of here before I turn maudlin, down a few bottles of wine, and end up drunk, dancing on a table and sobbing through all four courses.