Set Up in SoHo (The Matchmaker Chronicles) (27 page)

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” I said as he came around the table to offer his hand.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he said, his dark eyes reflecting something I couldn’t quite put a name to.

I nodded, grateful to be finally—blessedly—out of words. Minutes later Cassie and I, along with Ethan, found ourselves in the same paneled elevator heading down.

“I’m sorry. I did exactly what I wasn’t supposed to do. I ran off at the mouth. But I was nervous. He’s sort of overwhelming in person.”

“Actually, I thought he was a little odd,” Cassie said, sounding as bemused as I felt. “But you did all right.”

“She did more than all right,” Ethan said, his fingers closing warmly around mine. “You were amazing.”

“I think that might be overstating it. But it does actually seem possible that he might say yes.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Cassie laughed, “I thought you were at your motormouth worst, but you’re right, DuBois seemed to like it.”

“But he was still hesitating. I could feel it.”

“Maybe there really is some dark awful secret in his past,” Cassie said as the elevator doors slid open and we stepped back into the opulent lobby.

“If there is, we’ll never know what it is.” I shook my head. “The man’s definitely not a ‘spill your guts’ kind of person.”

“As opposed to you?” Cassie quipped.

“She speaks with her heart,” Ethan said, still holding my hand. “I think that’s a good thing.”

“I do, too, actually.” Cassie smiled. “And she always seems to manage to talk her way through whatever.”

“So what do you really think?” I asked them both. “Will DuBois say yes?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Cassie said. “I’d have laid odds he was going to say no when you interrupted with your heartfelt plea.”

“But now,” Ethan finished for her, “thanks in no small part to your unbridled enthusiasm, I think there’s a very good chance the man will agree to be on the show.”

So let it be a lesson to all you naysayers out there: Motormouths occasionally do win the day. Or at least manage to drive it into submission.

.

Chapter 21

I have a thing about elegant hotels. I think it started on my first trip to Europe. The one with Harriet. When we were in Vienna we stayed at the Hotel Sacher. It was amazing. Particularly the Blaue Bar (and yes, I was allowed a taste of champagne, which was probably responsible for the reprehensible life I live today). Anyway, with blue damask covering walls decorated with portraits of people in velvets and pearls, the bar—and the hotel—captivated me.

What can I say? I’m a five-star kind of girl.

And in my book, The Pierre, across from Central Park, definitely ranks right up there with the Sacher. It’s the perfect place for an engagement party.

Vanessa and Mark’s, to be exact.

Ethan and I were arriving fashionably late, which meant that the party was already in full swing. Unfortunately, the press hadn’t gotten the message and were still loitering in full force. The engagement was big news for any number of reasons, not the least of which involved my aunt and a certain bet.

“Ms. Sevalas,” a reporter bellowed, shoving a microphone in my face, flashbulbs momentarily blinding me. “Can you tell us if it’s true that Althea orchestrated the proposal?”

I shook my head and pushed forward, grateful for Ethan’s protective arm.

“What about the wedding?” another reporter asked. “Will Althea be giving away the bride?” There was a swell of laughter as I gritted my teeth.

“Ms. Sevalas has no comment,” Ethan said, ushering me up the steps and through the doorway.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. McCay,” an unctuous hotel staffer offered, appearing at our elbow. “We’ve cleared the entrance twice, but they just keep coming back.”

“No worries.” Ethan shrugged, his manner cordial. “It comes with the territory. Besides, we made it in one piece.”

“Thanks to you,” I said as we walked through the lobby toward the stairs. “I just hope Althea managed to avoid the worst of it.”

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you defending your aunt,” he said as we paused on the threshold of the Wedgwood Room.

“Just don’t tell anyone,” I said with a wry grin.

Ethan laughed and I felt my heart lighten. At least for the moment, life was good. I’d successfully dodged the paparazzi, Philip DuBois had all but agreed to be on my show, and I was attending the party of the year with one of Manhattan’s most eligible bachelors.

Not that I was trying to tempt fate or anything.

We made our way through the assembled company to the bar, and as Ethan ordered a couple of drinks I allowed myself the luxury of perusing the crowd. The attendees read like
Who’s Who of New York Society
. The up-and-coming huddled in adoration around the already arrived, separated discretely from little clusters of born-with-it-alls. Society in miniature, a microcosm perfectly preserved within walls of delicate Wedgwood blue.

Which is, of course, where the room gets its name. Pale blue walls with white accents and strategically placed mirrors give the space the air of days gone by. While not as ornate as the Grand Ballroom, there’s a seductive warmth that makes it perfect for a more intimate party. It’s almost as if you stepped into one of Josiah Wedgwood’s Jasperware creations.

Something like two hundred of Vanessa’s and Mark’s friends and family were in attendance. Although in all honesty, at least part of the crowd was here to see and be seen. In Manhattan society, even an engagement party is a spectator sport. Especially when one considered the circumstances surrounding said engagement.

Tables laden with all kinds of epicurean delicacies were strategically placed in the center of the room, with bars in the corners, and a champagne fountain taking center stage against the far wall. Catty-corner across the way, a carved mahogany table under one of the mirrors housed a small arsenal of wrapped gifts, many of them signature Tiffany blue. (Presumably, including mine—a ridiculously expensive and absolutely adorable martini pitcher. I’d known it was perfect for Vanessa and Mark the minute I’d spotted it.)

“I see my grandfather over there,” Ethan said, interrupting my thoughts as he handed me a drink. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

I was secretly delighted that he wanted to introduce me, but it didn’t pay to be too openly enthusiastic about that sort of thing. So instead I nodded, linking my arm through his as we made our way through the crowd, and in short order we were standing in front of Walter Mathias, the reigning patriarch of Ethan’s family. Although Walter had long left the springtime of his life, he was still a formidable man, standing well over six feet with a swath of white hair and a surprising twinkle in his faded blue eyes.

“Andi, this is my grandfather.”

“Delighted to meet you,” Walter said, enveloping my hand in both of his. “I hear you’ve been keeping my grandson on his toes. The office is still buzzing with talk of your dressing him down.”

“It seems I jumped the gun—at least a little bit,” I said, wrinkling my nose in embarrassment. “I sort of have a habit of doing that.”

“Well, from the way I heard it, you had justifiable cause to be angry.”

“Yes, but not at your grandson. Thankfully, he’s forgiven me for that.”

“All’s well that ends well, I always say. But I am sorry about my granddaughter,” Walter said. “She’s got a mind of her own, that one. And I can assure you that she’s been appropriately reprimanded.”

“It’s over now.” I shrugged. “And thanks to Ethan everything is back on track.”

Walter smiled fondly at his grandson and then turned his attention back to me. “You look a lot like your grandmother,” he said, studying my face.

“She mentioned that the two of you were friends.”

“I’ve known Harriet for practically ever.”

“Since you were in short pants, to hear her tell it.”

“Our families summered together in Newport. But our friendship continued beyond that. I was fond of Niko as well. Always thought he did Harriet a favor taking her away from her father. Old man was dogmatic as hell. She had a far better life with your grandfather. He had a way of making anything seem fun. I miss him.”

“Me, too,” I said, feeling the familiar tug of longing.

“So how is Harriet these days?” Walter asked.

“Traveling, mainly. She likes to say she’s seeing the world one port at a time. She still misses Grandfather, but I think for the most part she’s happy.”

“Good for her,” Walter said. “It’s hard being on your own.”

“Harriet’s not exactly on her own, Grandfather,” Diana said, appearing at Walter’s elbow, Dillon hovering just behind. “She’s got Andi, and Althea. And Melina. Although I don’t know that she really counts, considering she so rarely puts in an appearance. Must be hard, Andi, not knowing where your mother is.” She smirked at me, her expression goading.

Ethan’s hand tightened on my arm, and I swallowed a retort. “My mother isn’t any of your business.”

“Diana,” Walter said, his blue eyes suddenly icy, “be a dear, won’t you, and go and get me another drink?” He handed her his empty glass, and I swear to God, if I could have taken a photograph of her reaction I would have. It was not a pretty picture, anger turning her face a nasty shade of red.

Without another word, she turned, glass in hand, and, with Dillon in tow, headed for the bar. I wanted to clap. Or cheer. Or maybe hit Instant Replay. It was that good. But, having been raised with better manners, I withheld the urge.

“I’m sorry, Andi,” Ethan began, but his grandfather cut him off.

“What Diana said was utterly inexcusable. There is really no excuse. And unfortunately, no controlling her mouth.”

“But,” I began, for some reason feeling compelled to confess that Diana’s antagonism toward me was at least partly my fault.

“Doesn’t matter,” Walter said, his wizened gaze hardening. “She shouldn’t have attacked your mother that way. Or you, for that matter. All I can ask is that you don’t hold her rudeness against the rest of the family. Particularly my grandson. He’s a good man. But,” he said, his eyes back to twinkling, “if I were you, I’d scoot before she comes back. Oh, and Andi,” he called as we walked away, “do tell Harriet I asked about her.”

“Your grandfather is lovely.”

“And my cousin is a bitch.”

“Well, there’s clearly no love lost between the two of us,” I said, pleased to hear him support me over Diana. “I’m just sorry you and your grandfather got caught in the cross fire.”

“Seemed pretty one-sided to me. Your grandmother would have been proud of you.”

“If she’d stuck around long enough to hear about it.”

“She’s gone already?”

“Not yet. But she’s leaving soon. She’s very like my mother in that way.”

“I don’t know your mother. But I’ve seen how much Harriet loves you.”

“And I love her,” I said with a sigh. “I suppose every family has its eccentricities. Mine just has a little more than most.”

“We’ve got Diana,” Ethan reminded me with a grin. “Which gives us quite a leg up on the competition. Anyway, if it’s any consolation, Dillon seemed incredibly uncomfortable.”

“He knows how I feel about my mother’s leaving. And even though we’re not together anymore, I can’t believe he’d support Diana’s dissing my mother.”

“Of course not. And Grandfather was right. Diana speaks without thinking.”

“We have that much in common,” I said. “But this is a party and I’m not going to let Diana ruin it for me.”

“A thought I completely concur with.” Ethan nodded as Vanessa emerged from the crowd.

“Andi, thank goodness I found you,” Vanessa said, looking both relieved and resplendent in a gold-embroidered sheath that glittered as she moved. “I wanted to warn you. Diana Merreck is here—with Dillon.”

“Too late,” Ethan acknowledged. “We’ve just run into her.”

“Oh, God. That’s just what I was afraid of. Can you forgive me?”

“What’s to forgive?” I shrugged with a wave of my hand. “Sometimes life is just messy.”

“Well, if it gives you any comfort at all,” Vanessa laughed, “I did get the best of her once. At Camp Adirondack. We were in sixth grade. She was going on and on about her lineage. And how her blood was bluer than any of ours. So Cybil and I stole her panties, and ran them up the camp flagpole. You should have heard her shrieking—underwear flapping in the breeze. And trust me, they weren’t Perele.”

“There’s something absurdly comforting in that story.” I smiled. “Although I’m not sure what that says about me.”

“That you’re normal,” Ethan assured me. “And knowing Diana, she deserved the humiliation.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Vanessa said. “But I have to admit it gave everyone else a good laugh. Anyway, Diana never should have been invited tonight. Not under the circumstances. But you know how adamant my mother is about following social decorum. She’s all about propriety and she insisted it wouldn’t be right to omit Diana when we were inviting the rest of the family. And I never dreamed she’d actually come.”

“Well, in this case,” I said, “I think your mother’s right. But you’re sweet to have worried about me.”