Chapter 6 #2
We walk in silence for a few paces, the sounds of the cocktail party fading behind us.
“What was the major family misunderstanding that you think has gotten cleared up?” I ask before I can think better of it.
“Nothing important. Not anymore,” she says without looking at me.
“Was it you misunderstanding them or the other way around?”
“They were misunderstanding something about me, but they see now that they were wrong.”
This surprises me. From what I’ve seen, the family is coming off a bit angry and standoffish. Like they’re the victims, somehow. I want to push further. I tell myself it’s not my business.
“MISS KELSEY!”
A small body hurtles out of the tent opening and attaches itself to Kelsey’s legs. Within seconds, she’s surrounded by a swarm of children.
“We practiced the spin!”
“Clarice keeps messing up the arm part—”
“I do NOT—”
“Miss Kelsey, watch what I can do!”
“Is that your BOYFRIEND?”
This last question is shouted by a tiny girl with pigtails. Eight pairs of eyes turn toward me.
Kelsey makes a big “you caught me” face. The kids laugh and then she laughs—this laugh is a messy, unself-conscious laugh with a snort in there, which makes the kids laugh anew. It comes to me that the bright bell-like giggle she did with her family is fake.
“This is my friend Bruno, and he wants a sneak peek.”
“He looks mean,” the pigtailed girl whispers.
“He’s not mean,” Kelsey says. “He’s just...very, very serious. No one knows why. Guess what his favorite color is.”
The kids scream out the names of every possible color.
“I’ll tell you the answer after we nail the ending and do one full run-through, how about that?”
“They’re not going to be happy with the answer,” I say under my breath.
“Oh, they’ll be happy. It’s outrageous.” With that, she joins the kids and leads them in a dance—as best she can in that dress, which really does look confining. Did none of my former dates have that problem? Then again, they didn’t move around much. They were really only there to stand around.
I don’t enjoy children as a rule, though I don’t encounter many of them.
One of the perks of having money is that you don’t have to interact with people you don’t want to interact with.
But Kelsey seems to have a genuinely good time with them.
And they’re certainly having a good time with her. The girls want to be her.
I get it. There’s something mesmerizing about the way she moves, a kind of wild freedom, even poured into that dress.
She has such a compelling presence; no doubt that’s why she got picked for a Broadway show, which I’m quite sure is a cutthroat world. She clearly has lots of training, but her effervescence would give her an edge.
Eventually she declares the kids ready, and we emerge from the tent with them all trailing behind us.
It’s just before six—the official start of the cocktail party, according to Sadie.
And indeed, the terrace has filled with wedding guests.
Waiters glide through the crowd with more trays of champagne.
A string quartet still plays the same aggressively pleasant music.
The bride and groom take their places near the steps and thank everyone for traveling—some from as far as California, even Canada. There’s a good deal of blather I don’t listen to: gratitude, excitement, promises of a beautiful weekend ahead.
Danielle announces that the children have prepared a “special surprise” and would everyone please direct their attention to the lawn.
Kelsey squeezes my arm. “Showtime!”
The kids line up on the lawn, vibrating with energy, some hopping outright. Kelsey positions herself off to the side near a potted plant as the string quartet launches into Bohemian Rhapsody.
I should be checking my messages. Texting Sadie about the car. Instead I’m watching ten children dance and mime opera. One boy wanders into another. One girl decides to abandon the choreography entirely, but Kelsey brings her back from the brink with ease.
I suppose it would all be charming. If you like that kind of thing.
My gaze keeps drifting to Kelsey, who has resumed her position behind the potted plant, leading from the side with big movements.
She really is good.
But this is what she does, isn’t it?
The finale involves a chaotic group pose. The crowd erupts in applause. The children jump and scream.
Kelsey hangs back, clapping for them.
One of the cousins appears at my elbow. “She always was good with kids.” There’s an odd sense of reluctant admiration in her words.
Kelsey rushes up, slightly breathless, cheeks flushed. “You guys better not be talking about me!”
“Ha, no!” the cousin says a beat too quickly. “Hey, somebody’s been wanting to meet you!” She waves excitedly to somebody. “It’s Tyler!”
“Our handsome groom!” Kelsey says, concluding accurately that I didn’t remember.
The groom is a beefy blond man who pumps my hand enthusiastically. “Bruno Blackwood! We’re so stoked you’re here.” He continues shaking my hand. “I’ve followed your work for years, ever since you put out that Epoch edition.”
“Ah, the Epoch.” I nod, feeling awkward.
“You found room in a market that, who knew you could build that niche? Just ultra luxury all the way. Handcrafted.”
“Well, I killed a lot of watches to get where I am today.” This is something I say when people give me compliments, because what am I supposed to say?
I know the watches are good. I work on them day and night.
I’ve arranged my life so people will leave me the hell alone so that I can do that and only that.
Then I remember Sadie’s advice. “A simple thank you will do, Bruno.”
“Anyway, thank you,” I say, hoping he will stop talking.
“Is it true that you refused to make a watch for Prince Harold of Strondovia? Because he doesn’t take proper care of his things?”
I scowl at a row of flapping white flags. “It’s true.”
“How did you know he doesn’t take proper care of his things, though?”
“I was seated at the table with him. It was simply obvious to me. I don’t remember how.”
I do remember how, but I don’t say. It was something he said about his horses.
Tyler grins. “And TKO Storm?”
I frown. “Who?”
“The musician? Won five Grammys? Mega huge...”
I sigh. “He brought a group to his meeting with me and barely knew about the watches, just that he should want one. That’s not a commission for me.”
Tyler enjoys this. I have a feeling he’s going to ask about more commissions that I refused; the list of them floats around the internet and perversely makes my watches more sought after.
I don’t like to talk about the people I’ve refused.
I ask him how he met his beautiful bride, but somehow, he brings the conversation back to the watches.
I look over and catch Kelsey’s eye.