88. George
George
The Palmer House glittered in the chill December night.
People paused to point and stare from the base of the steps.
Impressive, yes—but nothing compared to Sarah stepping into the parlor.
My free hand pressed over hers as she clung to my arm in the crush of people.
Knightley didn’t have electricity or Sarah. He was stuck in the dark, poor chap.
Jacob had refused to stay home and his entrance with Viola on his arm sent a ripple through the crowd.
He favored his right flank but wore a huge grin.
There were also many smiles directed toward the beautiful woman beside me.
My friend who made me… What? Swoony? No.
Something more manly. I was a fool for her.
What had Sarah said? We’re all fools in— Whoa. Can of worms, that.
“You look thoughtful.” Sarah’s soft words brushed against my ear.
“Worms,” I said solemnly, wiggling my brows. “Was thinking of worms.”
Her musical laugh lightened my step. “Not a last-minute menu change, I hope.”
We made our way down the long, spacious hall toward the ballroom. No intimate dinner for two tonight. “Let’s see. Would you rather eat a worm or…”
Sarah’s feet dragged, and she stiffened beside me. I matched my pace to hers. Her grip tightened, and we stopped outside the ballroom’s double doors. Was she nervous? I whispered in her ear, “Not to worry. No worms.”
She didn’t react to my teasing. Just stared through the doors.
The orchestra in the ballroom’s balcony played Christmas music, and strains of “Joseph Dearest, Joseph Mine” drifted out to the main hall.
I glimpsed an army of round tables with crisp white linens and gold-rimmed porcelain plates.
The holiday centerpieces Sarah had selected featured pine boughs circling a large, glittering, golden star, with matching smaller stars on the napkin rings.
Elegant and festive. It looked splendid.
I smiled at Sarah, but she didn’t smile back.
I guided her into an alcove. “What’s wrong?” She strained to free her hand from my arm, but I held it firmly.
“You should go in. Greet your guests. I’ll wait out here and come in later.”
“Not my guests.” I took her hand in mine. “Our guests. You are as much the hostess as I am the host.”
“They don’t want to see me.” A crease formed between her brows.
I clasped her hand to my chest. “You are the most interesting person here. Scratch that. Jacob probably has earned that title for tonight.” I took a breath. “You are the most beautiful person here and the second most interesting. I will not leave your side.”
“But, I… I don’t know them.”
“This isn’t society, Goldie. This is The Star. This is my family. They’re good people, and I want them all to meet you. This is our party. We’re a team, remember?”
“But,” she said, dropping her gaze, “people don’t like me. Think I’m aloof. An ice?—”
“Stop.” I flinched. How could she think that? “I know that’s not who you are. And you know that’s not who you are…”
Her long lashes hung low, hiding her familiar pools of gold-flecked olive and brown. I pitched my voice way up high. “Yes, George, I know that’s not who I am.”
“But what if I am?”
I dropped my chin to my chest. Why couldn’t she see what I saw? My lips brushed across her knuckles. “Do you trust me?”
She kept her chin low. “I don’t want to embarrass you. I’m not good at this.”
“You can do this. Just stay at my side. Smile occasionally. If it’s too much, if you want to be done or need a break, give me the signal and we’ll beat a hasty retreat.”
She peeked up at me and I crossed my fingers and tapped my temple.
She raised her chin, and squared her shoulders.
I pulled her into the room. She smiled and nodded beside me at the first few tables, then found her footing.
And she was charming, kind, and gracious.
She remembered many of the things I had told her as we worked on the seating chart.
She asked Dirks for his best joke and asked Mr. Jones, our head custodian, if I had been good at mopping.
Smiles followed us around the room, and my chest swelled. She wasn’t just tagging along. Wasn’t a pretty ornament. She was shining. Had I ever felt pride like this? Not for another person. This was different. More. I couldn’t stop grinning.
When dinner was announced, we wound our way toward the head table. I bent to whisper in her ear. “Amazing. All grace and charm and beauty. I have never been more… more awed by anyone.”
She chuckled. “So, I didn’t permanently damage your arm with my desperate clenching? Didn’t draw blood? Oh, I was so nervous but…” She glanced over at me and grinned. “But everyone was wonderful. And it was easier, with you.”
Mrs. Kirkegard nodded at me as we took our seats.
I winked. She greeted Sarah warmly and remembered her from so many years ago, when she had attended the banquet as Viola’s companion.
An air of giddiness rippled around our table with Jacob’s miraculous return and the obvious affection between him and Viola.
I supposed there was obvious affection between Sarah and me as well. Friendly affection.
Sarah asked, “Will all of you spend Christmas in the country?”
Viola had insisted that we spend the holiday with her at her newly built home in Minnesota. Father and I had not protested, although until Jacob appeared yesterday, it had been unclear if we would be traveling anywhere for the holiday.
“I wish you were coming,” Viola said to Sarah. “Perhaps if we begged your mother once more?”
I bumped Sarah with my elbow and said, “That would be a Christmas miracle, indeed. I will look for a star in the east.” But it occurred to me that we had one more chance.
I couldn’t imagine anything more pleasing than having Sarah’s company for Christmas.
I bent my head close to her ear. “We had fun on our pretend holiday, didn’t we?
” She nodded. “But Christmas is a real holiday…” Would she want to go? Her eyes flicked to mine.
I said, “Perhaps I can try my charm on your mother? She has a soft spot for me. Fondness similar to what she would feel for Mipsy’s long-lost cousin.”
Her lips pressed together. Oh. My stomach tightened. She didn’t want to go. Probably worried I was going to mess up our friendship. Because I was a fool.
“Are you sure you want me along? Two weeks and?—”
“Absolutely.” Guess my feelings were clear.
Sarah bit her lip. “She might agree if you ask. She likes you more than most anyone, including me.”
“Don’t feel bad. I’m exceedingly likable.” I pitched my voice up once again. “Yes, George, you are the pinnacle of likability, the?—”
“I don’t sound like that.” She shook her head and gave a slight chortle.
I prodded, “But?”
“Yes, yes. You are a likable fellow.”
“And you want to come?”
Hazel eyes met mine, and I was knocked sideways. How would I ever resist kissing her if she kept looking at me like that?
“Yes.”
My heart leapt about. Though I couldn’t tell if it was joy or terror that sent it bouncing through my chest.
Toward the end of dinner, Father rose and gave a short speech.
“The Chicago Star, the best newspaper in the world, is not just a paper. It is not just a thing. It is all of us here tonight, a vast, talented family held together by common purpose, mutual respect, integrity, and our shared love of the story. Now, you may have noticed that I have grown a few gray hairs.” He paused as a rumble of laughter filled the room.
“I have been assured this indicates wisdom, so you must believe me when I say, the best thing to hold onto in life is not a thing, it is each other.” He held his glass high and said, “To holding tight!”
We all raised our glasses. Viola clinked glasses with Jacob, and Mrs. Kirkegard clinked with her husband, leaving Sarah and me. “To holding tight.” I touched my glass to hers.
And how I wanted to hold her tight. Damnation. I never would forget how she had felt in my arms in the snow. Her kiss. Like a wish come true. Lucky to have experienced it once. I took a long sip of champagne.
But I would control myself. I had messed up too many times.
I understood the risks. Unfortunately, at least for me, the last kiss always followed swiftly on the heels of the first. Then it was over, and the woman was gone from my life forever.
No matter how much I longed to sweep her into my arms and kiss her again right here in the middle of everything, I would not risk our friendship.
Wouldn’t risk losing her. I couldn’t kiss her, but maybe…
I briefly excused myself from the table and slipped up to speak to the orchestra. When I returned, I stood patiently behind my chair rather than sitting.
Sarah turned a questioning look my way, then chuckled.
“Why are you laughing?”
“That is your impish smile, so I am certain some mischief is about to occur.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong.” I tilted my head and caught the first notes of “We Three Kings” above the hum of the crowd. “Not mischief. Waltzing.” I tilted my head toward the open space at the front of the room. “Come on, Goldie. Let’s show ’em how it’s done.”
“You’re cracked.”
But she said it with affection and took my offered hand without hesitation, tethering herself to me.
I laced our fingers and led her to the floor.
Soon, we glided around with an almost respectable amount of air between us.
As much as it pained me to have her so far away, at least I had her in my arms.
Other couples joined us, even Viola and Jacob.
And if I spun her a few times, it was only to make her smile.
The happiness I found in Sarah’s eyes as the world blurred by around us was more than my heart could bear.
The swelling, pounding, pumping organ threatened to take control or perhaps explode. And what a mess that would be.
Yes, we are all fools.