Chapter 4
“Please let me see the dress, Evie,” Meghan begged. “You’ve been working on it for a week but we still have time to run out and get something that would be perfectly acceptable.”
“I’m not settling for acceptable.”
“I can’t lose my job over a damn dress.”
“You are going to have to trust that I’m not going to embarrass Michael or myself, no matter what he might say.”
“I’d hate to imagine what you’d be up to if that was your plan.”
“You didn’t tell him anything about it, did you?” Evelyn worried what Michael’s reaction would be if that ever happened.
“Oh god no! I wouldn’t have survived the fury of either one of you.”
“I figured he would have come storming in here if you had.”
“Do you think he’s going to hate it that much?”
“No, just me.” There was brooding and there was Michael’s visible disdain of her existence.
“That can’t be true. I mean he did marry you after all.”
“Meghan, you do remember that this is just a business arrangement, right? He doesn’t need to like me, just tolerate being around me for occasions like tonight.”
“But the story in the news was so romantic. The entire city is waiting to see you together.”
“Some of it was even true. Anyway, I promised I will appear as the adoring trophy wife he needs me to be.”
“Not if we don’t get you to your spa appointment on time.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not paying for a spa.”
“But you have to. They’re going to do your hair, makeup, and nails.”
“Ah, sweet, privileged Meghan. I bet you had that done for your high school prom.”
“Well, yeah. How else was it going to get done?”
“We do it ourselves.”
“No, not this. It’s too important. You’re going to wind up as an internet meme of what not to do.”
“I’ve had a few friends in the industry give me some tips. Have a little faith and sit here so I can figure out what style I want with this dress. I may have to recruit Tilly and Cora too.”
“They were both in the kitchen, last time I saw them.”
“Let’s get going then. Grab those containers. It’s time to take the beauty salon on the road.”
“Or at least to the kitchen?” Meghan chuckled, following Evelyn downstairs.
Set up at the breakfast bar, time passed quickly as the four women experimented with different hairstyles ranging from the Regency era to more modern. They hovered over each other’s phones to see how-to videos and took dance breaks when a popular musician popped into the line-up.
“Ladies, you all look divine.” Banner complimented the three women, eyeing all of their various updos decorated with crystals and pearls.
Evelyn put the finishing touches on the facial mud masks.“Now we have to decide on the right shade of nail polish. Do we go dramatic with something dark, or conservative, matching the champagne color of the dress?”
“Ha! I finally know something about the dress.” Meghan threw her hands in the air.
“I want my nails done!” Micah yelled as he ran into the room to join the party, energized from a nap.
“Men don’t wear nail polish.” Banner was quick to jump in.
“Why?”
“Yes, Banner, why is that?” Cora may have been the only one who could tease Banner.
“I...they...it just isn’t done.”
“I think Banner should get his done too!” Tilly giggled.
“Yay!” She wasn’t sure if Micah knew what he was cheering for, but it was heart-warming to see him happy and healthy.
“Banner?” She asked the butler for permission.
“OK, fine. May I have the lightest shade you have there?”
“Don’t forget the toes!” Tilly said with a laugh.
“And the mud mask?”
“I’ll pass.” Banner stated his limits.
“Me! Me!” Micah wanted to be included in it all.
Evelyn applied the last stroke of her blackberry jam-colored varnish that matched her lipstick for a sharp contrast to her pale skin and dress. Banner, Micah, and the ladies were snacking on Cora’s special cookies and laughing at a joke Micah told when the bang of the front door drew them all out of the kitchen to see what happened.
Michael stopped his charge through the foyer to stare at them. She imagined they must have been a sight wrapped in robes with tissues woven between their painted toes and dried gray goop on their faces.
“Seven PM. Not a minute past.” Michael pointed an accusatory finger at Evelyn before storming down the hall to his office.
“Oh, that’s not a good sign for tonight.” Tilly wrung her hands together.
“Madam, may I suggest Meghan assist you upstairs with your preparations? Cora and I will attend to Micah’s needs.” Banner’s voice of reason drew Evelyn from her shocked silence.
The reverie was over. Everyone gathered up the polishes and accessories strewn across the granite counter and put them in the container to be stored for another time.
“What do you think that was about?” Meghan asked, leading the way upstairs.
“I’d rather think it is anything but me. However, I’m concerned that he just remembered we have to spend the evening together.”
“Why is he so against that? You are so much fun, even when you make me nervous that I’m going to lose my job.”
“Thanks, Meghan. Michael and I used to have fun but that was a long time ago and he can’t let it go.”
“You’re still not going to tell me what happened are you?”
“Discussing it is not going to get me downstairs by ‘7 PM. Not a minute past’.” Evelyn exaggerated her imitation of Michael with her hands on her hips, wagging her finger in Meghan’s face, making her laugh.
“See, too funny! Now show me this damn dress!” Meghan implored, entering Evelyn’s bedroom.
“I don’t exactly have a choice. But before I do, you have to swear you won’t tell anyone what you see. I mean not a soul.” She stopped Meghan from proceeding any further.
“Geez, so serious. It’s just a dress.”
“Meghan, I mean it. Swear on your Louboutins.”
“You’re scaring me. Fine. I swear, but you better not have a dead body in there.”
Evelyn pushed open the heavy wooden doors to her inner sanctum, also known as the walk-in closet.
“Wow!” Meghan spun in a circle, taking it all in. “How much did you spend on these? I thought you didn’t want to spend anything on dresses.”
Rows of clothing racks on wheels lined one end of the space, each filled with exquisite women’s evening wear.
“I made them right here. I stitched every bead and applique with my weary little hands.” She ran her hand along the edge of her workspace in the middle room that had been the original island of drawers and cabinets.
“That sewing machine is massive. That must have cost a ton.”
“It’s on lease, but it’s a workhorse.”
“I know there are a lot of events coming up, but not this many. What are you going to do with them all, besides give one to me.” Meghan batted her eyelashes like a cartoon character, but her silence would be worth the request.
“I sell them. I have an online shop.” She watched Meghan finger the detailed work one outfit at a time and waited for the inevitable conclusion.
“You must make a bundle from these. Why do this marriage thing?”
“I don’t make that much after all of the overhead of materials and shipping. Not many people know me yet either, but someday maybe.”
“You’re freaking Lady Catherine Designs! Everyone wants to get their hands on one of these.” Meghan exclaimed like Evelyn was some famous fashion week designer when she found the pile of embroidered labels yet to be hand-sewn into each dress.
“Shhhh, you swore! Yelling it at the top of your lungs is not keeping it secret.”
“Right. But why don’t you want anyone to know?”
“Because they all make the same assumption about my income. Most times, I’m lucky if I break even.”
“I can’t believe you’re wearing a Lady Catherine Design tonight because you’re Lady Catherine!” Meghan squealed.
“Well, that won’t be happening if we don’t get moving.”
“Your hair looks fantastic. A little spray maybe and then we can start on makeup?”
“Do you think Michael will like it?” She spread out the lace overlay of her “My Fair Lady” inspired princess dress, complete with hand-sewn crystals across the bodice.
“How could he not? It’s breathtaking. I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” Meghan responded in a reverent tone.
“MRS. HARDING. NICE to see you are prompt. Is that what you’re wearing?” Michael outwardly sneered at her choice of attire while imagining throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to his room to explore her luscious red lips and curvy body for the night.
“Yes. What’s wrong with it?” Evelyn asked as he circled her, examining the dress in detail.
“You mean besides the fact that the sheath is skin tight, the lace gathered in the back accentuates your ass, and your breasts are practically falling out of the low-cut neckline? It’s rather inappropriate for the occasion.”
“I don’t know what got in your cornflakes today, but she is perfectly well covered. Now get going before you’re late.” Opening the door for them, Meghan came to Evelyn’s defense. Interesting. She wasn’t wrong, but the dress unsettled him all the same.
“This happens to be the latest fashion among the DC elite,” Evelyn stated as they moved to the car waiting for them in the driveway.
“I don’t know what paparazzi rag you’re reading, but this is not what the wives will be wearing,” he quipped as he folded himself into the car.
His driver, Stevenson, who had been waiting at the car for them, offered a hand to assist Evelyn when he realized that Michael was already getting in the vehicle on the other side.
“Are there so few women in the men’s club called congress that you can make such a sexist comment?” She continued the conversation like there had not been a break or a lapse in social etiquette.
“It’s not my opinion. It’s just a fact.”
“How about a little wager?” She folded her elbow-length gloved hands primly in her lap.
“Ah. Here it comes. I speculated how you would try to get more money out of me, especially considering how much that dress must have cost.” It was hard not to notice the hundreds of tiny jewels on her dress and multi-tiered necklace as the street lights flashed by.
“You always thought everything was about money.” Did he? He didn’t remember them ever fighting over it, even though others said their social standings would get in the way.
“You proved to me that it was.” An able-bodied man who could provide a quality life was what his father had quoted to him.
“It wasn’t...”
“What? Just say it.” He found it frustrating that she was hesitating over this subject again.
“It’s in the past. Digging it up right now is not going to help anyone.”
“So what do you propose as the stakes of the bet?” He’d let the conversation go, for the moment, mostly because he was so curious about the scheme she was trying to play now.
“Dinner.”
“You want to see and be seen in the finest restaurant on a date with me?”
“There you go again. No. A simple meal at home with Micah. I don’t even have to be there if you’d prefer.”
“You want me to spend time with your kid?”
“He’s your kid too. At least for the next year. I would have thought your PR people would have already suggested it, so your interaction with him is more believable in public.”
“They have. Now, what about my side of the wager?”
“What is it you want?” If he hadn’t been so sure she wanted nothing to do with him, he would have sworn she was leaning towards him, her breath quickening.
“For you to finally admit what you did eight years ago.” The door to the car opened before Michael realized they had stopped. The floor-to-ceiling glass entrance to the Kennedy Center revealed the immense hallway with a canopy of state flags looking over the scarlet carpet. He and Evelyn were on full display for the who’s who of his political career. Michael offered his arm to her after Stevenson helped her out of the car. She laid her hand on his forearm and smiled up at him. He wondered if it was sincere or if she had always put an act on for him. An attendant opened the doors for them, and another offered a glass of champagne.
“Try not to get drunk around these people.” He hissed but she laughed off his comment like he had said something funny.
“Senator Harding, so glad you could make it. We were getting concerned you wouldn’t show. And is this your lovely new wife?” It was his luck they immediately ran into his biggest opponent on almost every bill he supported. Sometimes it seemed like the man just lived to be contrary and stubborn.
“Senator Williamson. Mrs. Williamson. This is Evelyn D...B...Harding, my wife.” Urgh. He needed to pull it together before he made a complete ass of himself.
“Son, it sounds like you don’t know who she is. Better check that before someone does it for you.” Maybe Williamson reminded him too much of his Dad in his old-school mannerisms, but Michael tended to freeze up when the man started to bully him.
“You old coot, stop that. May I call you Evelyn? I’m Carole. What a fabulous dress! Is it one of those Lady Catherine creations? I’ve been wanting one of those but the husband says it wouldn’t be worth the cost for a barrel like me.”
“Goodness, no. You’re beautiful. The Lady Catherine dresses are made for all shapes and sizes to accentuate your best features.” She sounded like a commercial for the company. He considered how much she had spent on the designer over the years.
“Oh, you are divine. I have to show you off to the other ladies.” Mrs. Williamson looped her arm through Evelyn’s and they disappeared into the crowd. He watched her move easily from group to group as various dignitaries greeted Michael and Senator Williamson, who seemed in no hurry to move on as long as the drinks kept coming to him.
“Where’s the little lady?” Heath came to his rescue.
“Off with the girls talking dresses and shit. You alone again, Hayes?” Williamson downed the last of his amber-hued drink and looked around for another, waving his glass in the air.
“She looks like she’s having fun,” Heath observed, following Michael’s gaze.
“Yeah, she’s the talk of the event. I lost count of how many people have asked me if I’ve met the vivacious Evelyn yet.”
“Once a party girl, always a party girl, I guess.” His friend shrugged like he always had when the topic of Evelyn came up.
A gong sounded nearby, signaling the start of dinner.
“Guess that’s my cue to reclaim my date.”
“I’m at a different table. I’ll catch up with you after the meal.” Heath called to Michael, who was already walking towards a group of laughing women.
“Hello, ladies. I thought I might borrow my date for a little while.”
“Ooh! Is this the husband? He looks delicious!” An older woman perused him from head to toe, licking her lips.
“Down Edith. He’s spoken for.” Evelyn wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned her head into the crook of his shoulder like she used to.
It was uncomfortably familiar but he avoided flinching. They walked like that into the Grand Foyer, reputed to be one of the largest rooms in the world, watching their reflection in the four-story glass wall-turned mirror as they looked for their seat. There were beautiful crystal chandeliers placed every few yards throughout the space that was longer than the height of the Washington Monument. At their assigned table he remembered to pull her chair out for her, relieved to no longer be observing themselves look like the happy couple they had once been.
He played the doting husband, arm slung over the back of her chair while conversing with other people at the table during dinner. She playfully pushed him away like she was shy, but he remembered a time when she needed to touch him every moment he was near.
When the dishes were cleared and the tablecloths crumbed, the music began. The McAllisters and a few other couples ventured onto the dance floor.
“Are you going to take your lovely wife for a spin?” one of the gentlemen at the table asked.
“Maybe the next song. That dinner was so filling,” she answered on their behalf when he didn’t answer immediately. He couldn’t tell if she had read a reaction he didn’t realize he made, since she had barely touched her dinner.
“If you’re sure, we could walk around a bit. Maybe get some fresh air.” He stood up and offered her his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she accepted it.
Walking next to each other, he made sure not to touch her again lest he forget himself and repeat the kiss from the wedding. She greeted everyone they passed like they were old friends. Outside on the terrace, he finally spied the McAllisters and with his hand on her elbow, guided Evelyn towards them.
“Harding, great to see you! Ah, is this the fabulous wife I’ve been hearing about all night?” Hugh McAllister was a spry, charismatic, 80-year-old billionaire who treated everyone like his best friend.
The McAllister Foundation had enabled Michael to have the surgery he needed as a child to fix his congenital heart defect. He owed the man so much and hoped to have his backing for his continued political career.
“Mr. and Mrs. McAllister, this is Evelyn, my wife.” It was still difficult to say, but at least he didn’t stumble through it again.
“Hugh, you should have heard the entertaining stories she has. She had us in stitches! We have to have them at our next cocktail party. Oh, and did you see this dress? I have got to get the name of that designer.” Evelyn was shaking Mr. McAllister’s hand when Mrs. McAllister threw an arm around her shoulders like they were best friends.
“Estelle, you are too kind. We’d love to get together with you anytime you’re available,” Evelyn graciously smiled.
How had Evelyn made strides with them in minutes when he hadn’t been able to in years?
“Oh look! Aren’t they adorable?” Mrs. McAllister drew their attention to a man on one knee. The woman standing in front of him threw her arms around his neck, almost toppling them over. The crowd outside cheered and clapped for the newly engaged couple.
“Michael, it’s getting late. We should be getting back to Micah.” Evelyn quietly prompted him. Had she seen his jaw clench or could she still read him so well that she knew this was a trigger for him? They said their goodbyes to the McAllisters, who promised to be in touch soon.
“Going so soon? But I haven’t had a dance with the belle of the ball yet.” Williamson blocked the way out of the Grand Foyer. His alcohol-laden breath wafted across them.
“We were just leaving. Weren’t we Michael?” Evelyn glanced at him, waiting for an answer.
“It’s just one dance. You wouldn’t deny me one little favor, would you, Senator?” There was so much innuendo in that veiled threat.
“It’s entirely up to you,” Michael responded with a shrug. She looked at him wide-eyed, like she couldn’t believe he could be so spineless just to avoid a confrontation.
Williamson took advantage of their silent exchange. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto the dance floor, causing her to stumble along the way.
“Damn! I didn’t know she could tango,” Heath’s voice came from over his shoulder, with a surprising hint of lewdness.
“Excuse me?” Michael looked accusingly at his friend, presuming everyone was watching how alluring Evelyn was in her movements.
“Hey, just saying, I never saw her dance with you like that,” Heath said with a glint in his eye.
He wondered if Heath noticed how the old man was taking every opportunity to slide his hands all over her. She spun out of his reach at every opportunity but he pawed at her even more.
“Can we get out of here now?” She demanded, hurrying over to him as soon as the song ended, ignoring Heath’s presence. Moving toward the exit, he had no choice but to follow.
“You’re not going to wait for your new sugar daddy?” He called out when he was certain there was no one around to hear him. He didn’t know why he was taunting her, but he felt the need to fight since he saw the woman elated at her man’s proposal.
“I dare you to say that again.” She seethed, stopping in the middle of the Hall of States to face him.
“You looked cozy. Maybe you already had a thing going on the side with Williamson. You know that would violate our contract.”
Her hand flew up to slap him, but he caught her at the wrist.
“If you were paying attention the only thing being violated was me, and if you were half the man you think you are, you would have protected me.”
“Ah, ah, ah. Smile for the press when you’re snarling at me.” Baring his teeth and holding her hand to the side, others might think they were the happy couple they were supposed to be, having an intimate moment together.
He realized had created the exact situation he had tried to avoid. Even with her scowling at him, holding her was intoxicating. Hopefully, it was enough to appease the media, until he had to endure her presence again.