Chapter 3
Laine
On Saturday afternoon, I knock on the door and let myself in to Trish’s home. After her parents’ deaths, she moved into the house they bought when she was little, and she’s slowly made it her own. Trish is a multi-millionaire and could easily hire someone to run her company while she relaxes, but instead, she’s very involved. And somehow, she limits herself to one piece of chocolate a day. I don’t know how she can do that.
As I start looking for Trish, Ginny, the housekeeper, comes out of the kitchen drying her hands with a dishcloth. “Welcome back, Ms. Laine.”
“Hey, Ginny.” I give her a hug. She’s been a surrogate mother—mostly to Trish but often to me too—since we were little girls.
“She’s upstairs,” she tells me. “Can I get you a juice, sparkling water, or coffee?”
“Coffee would be great.”
She turns back toward the kitchen as I walk up the winding staircase to Trish’s room. I don’t know why she asked me to be here by three. “Hello?” I call.
“I’m in here.”
I walk into her room, and Trish has giant curlers in her hair. Yvette, her hair and makeup artist, is working on her face.
“You’re late,” she says.
“It’s not even four. What time is the party?”
“It’s a dinner. We’ll leave about six.”
“Why are you getting ready now?”
“Because she needs to do your hair and makeup too.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I have a beautiful red dress I think you’d look incredible wearing. It’s on my bed.”
“That will bring me far more attention than I’m seeking.”
“Red looks amazing on you.”
“What about that black lace dress? I could wear that.”
“I think I lent that to Naomi.”
“But I brought black heels for tonight.”
“That’s fine. I have those strappy nude Jimmy Choo’s you can wear.” Yvette repositions her head. “And don’t roll your eyes,” she adds. “You’ll look fantastic in the red one. Go look at it.”
The dress is laid across the bed. It’s a Valentino, and the tag says size six, which really means it’s a four. “I don’t think it’s going to fit.”
“Try it on. You brought your Spanx, right?”
I hold up the shiny silk dress. The top is a halter, so that means no bra and my back will be bare. The skirt is straight with a long slit up the back, so I shouldn’t have to shuffle along. I find the nude strappy sandals Trish mentioned on the floor, and they’re not even scuffed on the bottom. I smell a rat.
“You’re going to look beautiful,” she says from behind me.
I notice a price tag on the dress as I put it down. It’s half my annual salary—or it was when I was working. “You haven’t worn this yet.”
“That’s okay. I’ll wear it eventually.” She sighs. “I end up at so many of these events.”
“I can’t afford to replace this if I spill on it.” Or if I split it because it’s too small.
“I’d never ask you to do that. That’s what dry cleaners are for.”
I do like the dress, but it’s definitely an attention grabber. “I don’t know.”
“Stop it. You’ve had a rotten week, and I want you to have fun this evening, maybe meet a nice guy to go home with.”
“I need to start on your hair,” Yvette announces in her French Canadian accent.
Saved . I’m not trolling for men, so there’s no need to have that conversation. “I’m coming.”
The housekeeper arrives with my coffee and a tray of snacks while Yvette gets to work on my hair and makeup. As she works, Yvette and Trish chatter in rapid French. I can mostly follow along, but I’m not fluent. Trish spent elementary school in Quebec City, and while she went to an English private school, Quebec City speaks primarily French, so she is completely fluent. We met in middle school when she moved here to Vancouver.
“Yvette thinks you’ll be fighting off the men in that dress, and she wants to leave your hair down.”
That’s not at all what I thought she said. “Sure. Whatever you two think is right. I’m going as your wingman.”
Yvette works my hair into hot rollers, and while they burn my scalp, she applies my makeup.
“You want the dress to get all the attention,” Yvette tells me. “So, you need subtle makeup.”
“That works for me.”
She and Trish continue to talk, and I sit and listen. Now, they’re talking about some guy named Georges. I get lost in what they’re saying and think about the article I finally finished and sold to the Sun . It comes out tomorrow, in the Sunday paper, and will be above the fold on the front page. They paid me good money and told me they’d let me know if they want a follow up. That feels good, but it took six weeks of work, so I’m hoping it turns into more and possibly a full-time job.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Yvette admonishes.
“Sorry.”
“You make a crease between your eyes. Stop that. It’s not pretty.”
I don’t know how I’m going to stop thinking, but I nod my agreement.
“What were you thinking about?” Trish asks.
“There are a few follow-up possibilities for the article I wrote. I’m thinking about how to get it all done.”
“See? You’ve already got this.”
Trish is always in my corner, cheering me on. “Thank you.”
Yvette allows me to put on my own mascara, mostly because when she tries I blink too much because I’m worried she’s going to poke me in the eye. She gives me lots of direction, and when I finish, she combs out my hair. It looks shiny and wavy.
“Wow. I wish I could do this myself. Thank you, Yvette.”
Then I move on to actually getting dressed. It takes a few minutes of yanking and pulling to get my Spanx in the right place. I’m not willing to give up chocolate or work out for hours to have a flat stomach. That’s why they invented Spanx. But I’m now wondering if I need to increase the size of my Spanx.
I groan and flinch from the snap of the elastic, but I’m finally ready to step into my dress. “What are we going to do if it doesn’t fit?”
“It will,” Trish assures me.
I take a deep breath as I slide it on. It’s tight over my hips and ass. I shake my head. “Now what?”
“You look hot,” Trish says. “What are you talking about?”
“I think it’s too tight across my ass.”
Yvette walks out of the bathroom with all her supplies. “You look fantastic. I bet you meet a hot guy tonight.”
Trish ignores my continued worrying and puts on her own dress, which is a gorgeous black backless number that’s going to make all the papers when they highlight the event.
“Are you ready?” she eventually asks.
I nod. “Let’s go.”
Her car service picks us up and drives us over to the Vancouver Public Library. As we approach, there are spotlights spinning in the air, news trucks from all the local stations, and an actual red carpet from the curb to the front door of the library. There’s a roped barrier holding back onlookers.
“I feel positively stupid,” I whisper as we step out of the car.
Trish shakes her head. “Why? You look fantastic.”
“It’s not that. I’m a nobody.” A flash blinds me. When I can see again, I spot Morgan, my old colleague. She waves me over.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “Are you working for someone else already?”
She nods, looking smug. “I’m working for TMZ.”
I guess if you’re going to work for the gossip rags, TMZ is the one. “Wow. I didn’t know they had stuff going on here in Vancouver.”
“Hollywood North, baby.” Morgan’s smile is infectious.
That’s what they call the film industry here in Vancouver, and there’s hardly a day that they’re not filming and obstructing traffic. It’s amazing to watch movies and television shows supposedly set in Los Angeles or cities all over the world and recognize downtown Vancouver.
I lean in. “Are there any stars here?”
“A few.” She hands me her card. “Call me if anyone does anything stupid in there that would be of interest. I have an expense account and can pay you for leads. If you get a picture, those are worth at least a thousand dollars.”
I don’t want to make a scene, so I take the card and tuck it in my handbag, but there’s no way I’d ever call her with something like that. “Thanks.”
“You can’t call her,” Trish whispers as we continue inside.
I shake my head. “No. Never. Even if someone whipped it out and peed all over. I still wouldn’t take a picture, and I wouldn’t call her.” But I am jealous that she has a job with an expense account. The money is good in tabloid journalism.
When we reach the building, standing at the door are two of Julia Martin’s sons, Phillip and Griffin.
“Ladies!” Phillip says. “Welcome to the Vancouver Library’s A Novel Affair.”
Phillip leans close to Trish, and I swear I hear him promise to meet up with her later.
Once we check in, I turn to her. “Are you seeing Phillip Martin?”
She looks away. “We’ve gone out a few times. He likes the chase but doesn’t want to settle down. So, he’s fun to play with, but he’s not a long-term option.”
I nod and look around the library. It’s a five-story building full of books What’s not to like? I love wandering around on a rainy day and finding new things to read and enjoy. This is the library that sparked my love of reading, which led to my love of writing.
The glass roof shows off the night’s starry sky, and tonight, the library is lit by twinkling lights, which add to the sparkling effect. There are hundreds of people here, and a stage at the back of the first floor is surrounded by at least fifty tables. I spot a few people I know from school and from working as a journalist.
I gasp. “Look at that!” On one of the silent auction tables is a signed first edition of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice . Trish and I walk over, and Henry Martin is standing guard.
“Henry!” Trish says. “How did you ever manage?”
“Patricia, great to see you.” He shrugs. “You know my mom. She got the bookseller to send it to us. They’ll give us anything over two-hundred-and-forty-thousand, and the highest bid is already at two-seventy-five.”
Her eyes narrow. “Who bid on it?”
He leans in. “Marion Barlow.”
Trish narrows her eyes. “This is authentic?”
When he nods, she picks up the pen and writes three-hundred thousand on the next line of the auction form.
I gasp. “Oh my God. Really?”
Her eyes sparkle. “I need to find Marion and let her know.”
Henry shakes his head. “You’re up to no good again.”
“It’s a Jane Austen first edition. I’d give my right arm to have that in my home library.”
We peruse the other auction items, and Trish puts her name down on several, including a private plane ride anywhere in Canada.
“What are you going to do if you win all these?”
Trish shrugs. “Send them a big check. I don’t have any heirs, and I can’t take it with me.”
“But that could change.”
“I hope it does.” She grabs my arm. “Come on. I see Marion talking to Julia.”
Julia’s grin and arms go wide when she sees us. She’s always gone out of her way to be kind to me, even after things blew up with Jack. She’s amazing.
“Marion, don’t be too upset,” Trish warns as we approach.
Marion is all smiles. “Let me guess, you outbid me for Pride and Prejudice .”
Trish nods. “I did. It’s a good cause if you decide you want to outbid me.”
“How far did you go?”
“Three hundred.”
Julia gasps. “I can’t believe it. You two are fantastic. No matter who takes it home, the library has actually won.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Trish agrees.
They chat for a few moments, and I see Paisley making her way over.
She pulls me into a warm embrace. “You look incredible.”
“I borrowed the dress from Trish. But look at you. Wow!” Paisley is wearing a silver sequined gown that makes her sparkle all over.
She leans in. “Davis picked it out. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”
“I totally get it. I want to eat tonight, but with this dress, I don’t think I should.”
We laugh and Michael and Nadine Khalili join us. They’re also friends of my ex, but they’ve invited me over a time or two since the breakup to spend time with their kids, who are absolutely great.
Everyone’s talking about Trish’s bid on the books. “If any of you want to bid too, feel free,” Trisha says. “The library benefits.”
Just before dinner, Allison walks up on stage and announces that the silent auction will be closing in fifteen minutes. That has the crowd moving.
Paisley tugs on my arm. “Allison and Henry are sitting at the head table, so I moved you and Trish to ours.”
“Fantastic. Thanks so much.”
Trish smiles. “Who else is at your table?”
“Phillip and Jack.”
My stomach flips. “Oh, did you tell Jack? He won’t be happy with that.”
She shrugs. “Then he should have brought a date. I gave both him and Phillip the option.”
She leads us to the table as Jack and Phillip also walk up. She’s seated me next to Jack, and we both realize it at the same time. Great . What am I going to do now?
I turn to him, and his eyes go wide. “Good to see you again,” I say.
He snorts. “I need another drink.” Turning on his heels, he disappears into the crowd.
Nadine walks over and hugs me. “You look amazing.”
“It’s Trish’s dress.”
“I don’t think I will ever look as good in it as you do,” Trish tells us.
Now, I definitely smell a rat. “You bought this for me, didn’t you?”
“I would never do anything like that,” Trish says, her eyes wide. “You’d never wear it and insist that I return it if I did.”
“That’s right. I’m not your pet project.”
“No, you’re my best friend.”
What can I do with someone like Trish? She’s generous and kind and always pays me off in chocolate.
“I sat you next to Jack,” Paisley says. “We miss hanging out with you on the regular, and I think he needs to get over it.”
“Well, thanks,” I tell her. “But as soon as he saw me, he went to the bar.”
“Good. I hope he gets drunk and very friendly with you,” Trish teases. “Either that or he falls into Coal Harbor and drowns.”
My heart beats faster at the thought of Jack getting friendly, but that ship sailed the minute he decided I put my story before our relationship. That’s not what happened, but he won’t hear me out.
“I’ll trade seats with you,” Trish offers.
Phillip whispers something in her ear, and she giggles.
“No way. You enjoy teasing Phillip, and I’ll listen to Michael talk all night.”
“You know my husband too well.” Nadine chuckles.
Allison returns to the podium and welcomes Julia to the stage. The ballroom slowly quiets down, and we all take our seats.
Julia is the queen of fundraising in this town. She and her husband grew a small company into a massive communications firm that owns radio stations, a newspaper, television stations, and even a cellular phone company all across Canada.
Julia politely welcomes everyone. “For over one hundred years, Vancouver Public Library has played a key role in our community. As the busiest library in British Columbia, we’re not only a cornerstone for Vancouver’s neighborhoods, we connect people to each other and to a world of information and literacy.
“You can support your library and help us to promote literacy, a love of reading, and the exploration of ideas, culture, and knowledge by making a donation. Our goal this evening is to raise more than a hundred thousand dollars. I’ve asked that we leave the silent auction open until after dinner, just in case you still want to bid on something. Last I heard, the first edition of Pride and Prejudice is at three hundred and fifty thousand, and we’ve got some other amazing items you won’t want to miss. And of course, we take cash or check donations as well.”
That gets a couple of chuckles from the audience. You can’t attend an event and not have Julia ask for money. She is a good donor herself, so no one ever complains.
She invites everyone to enjoy their dinner, but the seat next to me remains open. It wouldn’t surprise me if Jack never comes back.
Sighing, I think back to the time when I was the center of Jack’s world. How wonderful it felt to be that important to someone. I never felt that way growing up. My parents were great, but I was an accident they never wanted. I was never treated poorly or abused, but they had no real interest in me, and I was pretty much left to raise myself. Jack showed me what it was like to be cherished and loved. But then, it all fell apart. I guess maybe I took it for granted. Now, he can’t even sit next to me at a fundraiser.
Then a guy pulls out the chair next to me. “Hello, I’m Kent Johns. Jack knows my sister and asked if he could trade seats with me so they could catch up.”
I smile and try to hide the hurt pulsing through my body. “Nice to meet you. I’m Laine Seymour. I’m sorry you got stuck with me.”
He smiles. “I’d say getting stuck with the most beautiful woman in the room is a win over sitting with my sister every time.”
“Thank you. You’re very kind. How did you land here at this event?” I ask.
“Our mother sits on several boards with Julia Martin. What about you?”
“My best friend needed a wing-woman tonight, and she chose me.”
He nods. “Then I’d have to say I’m the luckiest man in the room.”