16. Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Marcy
I drove like a madwoman—still coming to full stops and using my turn signal—to reach the Richenbacher house for the fancy-dancy fundraiser event.
Yes, I was late.
My lateness was totally my fault and had everything to do with baking bread. I’d started a stress baking streak the night Hudson returned from grocery shopping and hadn’t stopped. Bread loaves went with me to work every day, to my coworkers’ delight. I’d dropped off dinner rolls to my parents covertly while nobody was home. A risk, but I’d taken it.
Texts and emails piled up throughout the week. I ignored messages from the Supreme Meddlers about the wedding-that-would-never-be and screened various demands from Bea Clark. When Patrick texted, I always answered. On top of that, my pesky day job required my attention. Food, shelter, and health insurance sadly didn’t come for free.
Now, tonight, I’d completely lost track of time after hours of business planning and recipe testing. I needed to not only nail the staples at my bakery, but offer unique options to walk-ins. Commercial orders were part of my business plan, but so was serving the community with café-style fare in the bakery itself. I even bookmarked a few table and chairs options to create a small seating area in front of the shop window.
When I finally came up for air and realized I had less than forty-five minutes to de-flour my hair and transform myself into a presentable human from a kitchen witch, my adrenaline kicked in.
It wasn’t enough to simply look presentable. I had to look like a politician’s fiancée in front of a bunch of rich people.
Tonight’s dress was a long, beaded gown. Sent over yesterday, the gown had included a note from Bea Clark simply stating: Wear it
Not only was this gown not any of the dresses I’d already tried on, but it didn’t actually fit. Something I could have dealt with yesterday had I bothered to pull it out of the garment bag. A mere thirty minutes from my expected arrival time, I realized the top half gaped open. No peek-a-boob here. This offered my full goods on display.
Hudson wasn’t around this weekend to aid my fashion emergency, as she’d gone up north to run a retreat with Lucas.
So into my bra went the also-provided-by-Bea silicone chicken cutlets to fill out the top of the dress. I should have been insulted Bea had sent those along, and I was. I was very insulted. I hadn’t stuffed my bra since the seventh grade school dance. I hadn’t needed to.
But this dress wouldn’t fit right without the added cushion and again—bread, flour, late. No other options.
I made it to the event ten minutes late. Fashionably late. Eh, too soon? I wasn’t exactly feeling fashionable with my hasty make-up job and ill-fitting gown.
Valet appeared to be the only option for parking at the Richenbacher house, so I handed my keys to a lanky dude likely only a year into his driving record, and envied his night of lining up other people’s cars into neat little rows.
I almost turned back to ask for my keys, but Patrick needed me.
Inside, the Richenbacher house smelled of wealth. Which was basically the opposite of dust and leftover bacon grease. Did polished marble have a scent? As I passed through the entryway, a massive flower arrangement on a glass table emitted faint, sweet notes.
I didn’t see Patrick. Moving with careful steps, the long beaded gown swished heavily against my bare legs. I aimed to blend with the mingling guests in a formal living room where clusters of people stood talking and drinking wine. No one nearly close to my age from what I could tell, and not a familiar face in the bunch.
A young woman in all black looked approachable. I drifted over to her. “Hello. I’m Marcy. Russo. Marcy Russo. Patrick’s…betrothed.” Ew, why had I said that? “His fiancée. Um, how are you?”
She swiveled to a nearby table and picked up a tray. “Would you like wine?”
My cheeks heated. This woman worked with the caterers. No wonder she seemed approachable. “Yes, please. Thank you.”
The woman took her tray and moved elsewhere. I sipped the wine and hoped to blend into the wallpaper. No, I need to mingle. I needed to find him and make sure we were seen together. That was the whole point of this.
“Marcy,” a deep voice sounded behind me.
I turned. “Mr. Strauss.” I hadn’t seen Patrick’s father since the campaign began. Ditto for our engagement. I’d thought it odd he hadn’t been around, but Patrick wasn’t close with his dad, so I didn’t bring it up. I’d heard Mrs. Strauss mention a couple of business trips, so I figured he’d been out of town.
The total opposite of my family. My parents didn’t have jobs that required business travel, and they spent every spare second together when they weren’t working. They’d always been that way. Grocery shopping together (and dragging us kids along) and finding activities to do as a couple or a family. Mamá had her girls’ nights out and occasional solo shopping outings, but she and Papá were pretty much joined at the hip.
I might have never realized not everybody’s parents were like that, but as kids, sometimes Patrick would mention with wonder how we always did things together as a family. Annoying , I would declare. It’s nice, he’d say back.
Patrick’s father stood in front of me in a tuxedo. He had Patrick’s same lean physique, with salt-and-pepper hair and lightly aged skin around his eyes and mouth.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” he said. “You look lovely.”
“Oh, thanks.” I almost cracked a joke about the dress, then remembered who I was talking to. I definitely couldn’t mention the silicone cutlets propping up my top and besides that, he’d probably paid for this dress.
I’d only ever done the small talk thing with Patrick’s father. We didn’t exactly share much in common. “This is a nice…house,” I said and internally cringed.
My cringy comment didn’t seem to affect him. “Let me introduce you to some people.”
Mr. Strauss gently guided me out of the living room through a hall to a wide open space with two-story windows facing a lake. Women in formal gowns like mine and men in suits chatted easily. A piano sat in one corner. Beautiful and complex music floated over. I squinted. The player was a kid. A girl who looked barely double digits. Child prodigy?
I heard my name and realized Patrick’s father was introducing me to a silver-haired couple. I tried to say all the right things as I scanned for Patrick. He’d usually have found me by now. He was always good for that—being on time and not leaving a girl hanging. Even Bea Clark would be a welcome sight. Mainly so I could ream her out for this dress .
Ha—doubtful. Bea scared me.
Mr. Strauss steered us to a couple nearby. I stood tall and mustered my confidence. My head felt a bit light—the wine already? The introductions were followed by small talk.
“You’ll be getting your CPA, won’t you?” Patrick’s father asked, jolting me to attention.
A South Asian woman dripping in jewels nodded with interest. “My company is looking for young talent. We should talk.”
“Oh, uh.” I smiled as my mind raced. Patrick’s father didn’t know I wanted to ditch my accounting career for a bakery. Heck, my own parents didn’t know about my zany idea.
“Don’t be modest,” Mr. Strauss said. “Marcy graduated summa cum laude from the University of Michigan.”
How did he know I’d graduated with honors? “Ah, yes. Thank you. I’m still deciding on whether to pursue CPA certification.”
“Of course,” the woman responded. “With a wedding coming up, I’m sure you have your hands full.”
If she only knew how absolutely empty my hands were not planning our fake wedding.
“You’ll want to settle down, I’m sure,” the gray-haired man beside her continued.
I clenched the stem of my wine glass. What was with this whole settle down narrative? Why did other people care whether I was settled?
I forced a smile. My goal? To support Patrick.
“But if you’re ever looking to work at a Fortune 500 company, you just say the word.” The man winked and offered an air cheers my direction with his own glass.
“It’s that easy when you know the right people,” Mr. Strauss said in a low voice after the couple moved on.
Perhaps I should have been flattered, but my stomach turned. These people knew zilch about me or my work ethic, but would hand me a job because of my association with the Strauss family .
I offered a weak smile to Patrick’s father, not knowing what else to say.
“You’re doing a good thing for my son.” He looked out the window at the sun setting over the lake, then shifted his focus to me. “Truly, thank you. Once this is all over, let me know how we can repay you. We’ll make it worth it once Patrick secures this mayorship.”
I wasn’t sure what he knew. I already had my part of the deal set with Patrick. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you.” I wouldn’t need an accounting job in a big-wig corporation.
“You’ve always been a good friend to Patrick. Excellent grades. The smart one of the bunch, apart from those rowdy brothers of yours.” He laughed easily. “If it’s money you need to complete your CPA, we’ll take care of it. Give you a leg up. We like helping families in need.”
My vision narrowed. Definitely not the fault of the wine. “I hope you find a family in need to spend that money on.” My words came edged like a sharpened blade. “As for me and mine, we are perfectly financially capable.”
Mr. Strauss’ cheeks reddened, reminding me so much of Patrick. “I…I’m sorry. I realize now how that comment came across. I didn’t mean to insult you. I made the assumption you’d put off the CPA for financial reasons. Please accept my apology.”
I chanced a direct look. He’d angled away from the crowd, speaking low, likely to keep the details between us. All in all, he seemed sincere in his apology and embarrassed at his blunder.
“Thank you for the apology.” Speaking the words helped me feel them. I’d always gotten a chilled and distant vibe from Patrick’s dad, but I hadn’t been around him much. Most of what I knew was filtered through Patrick, and shifted depending on how irked he was by his parents. Mr. Strauss didn’t really know me at all. Here was my chance to bridge that gap. “Actually, I’m coming into some family money soon, and I’m considering potential business opportunities. I am very well set financially.”
His eyebrows raised. “That’s great to hear. Terrific, really. I’d be interested to hear about your business ideas sometime, if you’re comfortable sharing.”
As suspected. The man looked downright relieved. I wasn’t after Patrick for his money and I’d earned a bit of respect by tossing out a vague statement about business investing. Speaking his language. A start, at least.
“Hey, where have you been?”
The air changed around me. I spun to face Patrick. My Patrick. Though he looked annoyed . “Hey, back at you. I’ve been here. Mingling .” I shot him a corny grin.
He looked past me to his father. “I’ve been looking for Marcy—I didn’t know she was with you.” His hand went to my shoulder, sending comforting waves through me. “Sorry, I lost track of you,” he said to me. “I’m glad you made it here okay. I got worried when I didn’t see you at Bea’s designated meeting spot.”
“I was running late,” I admitted. And clearly overlooked Bea’s texts that would have noted specifically where to meet inside the large house. I’d been more focused on my own agenda.
“Marcy and I had a nice chat.” Mr. Strauss clapped a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “We’re just so thankful Marcy is part of your life and your bright future.”
Patrick looked partly murderous, so I squeezed his arm. “We should all have dinner soon. To catch up.”
He scanned my face, blinking through his muddled thoughts.
It’s okay , I mouthed to him.
His murder-face calmed, and he put on a smile. More for show, given strangers surrounded us who he was asking for money.
Without missing a beat, Patrick’s father introduced us to another set of those strangers, followed by what sounded like a rehearsed elevator pitch for his son and that very bright future. If that pitch was all for show, Mr. Strauss was a very good performer.