Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Do you think I need to do damage control with the press people who were here?” Davin asked, but no one answered him.
As soon as 911 had been called and Vanessa had announced from the podium that a doctor was needed, the whole scene became a case study in rubbernecking. It turned out that there were two doctors in the house, both of whom agreed that Barbara was experiencing an anaphylactic reaction, and fortunately one of the guests had an EpiPen in her pretty silver purse.
Eliza did her best to get the extraneous people moved away from the scene, but somehow more and more began streaming out of the dining room. Some headed out, but others hovered, as if their presence could somehow be helpful. The arrival of the EMTs helped clear the area, and pretty quickly, they carried Barbara out, with Ross, Ian, and Vanessa following.
Amber rubbed her own arms as if she were chilly. “Wow. Not at all how I expected this evening to end.”
“Well, at least she should be okay,” Patrice replied, putting her arm around Amber to give her a little squeeze and then reaching out to squeeze Bridget’s hand as well.
Vanessa reappeared. “They’re en route. Ross rode along in the ambulance. Ian is trying to get in touch with Barbara’s husband, but everything should be fine.” She paused and looked around at her team and the various guests who were still milling about. “This has been a long night, folks. Best thing we can do now is to head home. We can deal with notifying the auction winners tomorrow. Doesn’t feel quite right to do it now.” She pasted on a smile and turned to the nearest guests to begin to nudge them out.
Eliza felt a bit shell-shocked but went through the motions of thank-yous and good-nights before heading back into the dining room in search of her purse. She found Josh sitting at her table, and he looked up at her.
“Hey. I figured I should stay out of the way, but I wanted to stick around. See if you’re all right.”
She put her hands on the back of the chair she’d been sitting in. “It was all so strange. One minute she was fine and then she was having trouble breathing.”
“Scary stuff. What do you need to do now?”
She shrugged and then sat. “We’re going to wrap up the auction stuff tomorrow. I guess I’ll see if we can store everything here overnight.” But she didn’t move.
“E? You okay?” He shifted to face her, his knees almost touching hers.
She looked up from her hands, which she’d been studying. “I barely know her. And she’s going to be fine. I just feel?—I don’t know?—shaky.”
He squeezed her knee. “Stay here. Let me get you something to drink.” And then he was gone, and Eliza gazed around the ballroom, where servers were moving about, efficiently clearing the tables. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Josh returned with a glass of ice water.
“Here you go. I talked to your coworker?—Patrice, I think? There are a bunch of volunteers out there packing stuff up, and Patrice made arrangements to keep it here until tomorrow.”
Eliza took a sip of water. “I should be out there. This is my job.”
“It’s okay. It’s being taken care of.”
She didn’t have the energy to argue with him, or even to wonder why he was hanging around with her, so she just drank again, the ice clinking in the glass.
Josh ran a hand through his hair. “Whenever you’re ready, we can go. How about I take you for a drink? Or dessert?”
She thought about it. All she really wanted was to go home. And to get some air. Where were they again? They were just under twenty blocks to her apartment. And a couple of avenues. “I wouldn’t mind just walking home.”
He looked down at her feet. “In those heels?”
“I changed when I got here. I have other shoes.”
“Well, then. It’s a plan.”
A little while later, after Eliza had gathered her things and confirmed with Patrice that everything was, in fact, taken care of, she was back in her Converse, and she and Josh stepped outside. The air was brisk?—it was, after all, December.
“Are you sure you’re not too cold?” he asked.
“My coat is warm. And the air feels good. You don’t have to walk with me.”
“I could use the exercise.”
So they fell into step beside each other. It was past ten?—closer to eleven, in fact?—but they were far from alone. New York didn’t get the “city that never sleeps” nickname for nothing.
Eliza sucked in a breath of chilly air. She still felt... off. Like something was nagging at her that she couldn’t put her finger on. “I don’t know why I feel so shaken up. I barely know Barbara. And she’s going to be fine.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been through a lot the last few months. I’m not surprised being so close to a medical emergency would affect you.”
She nodded. “I never thought about what actually happened when my dad died. I mean, calling 911 and all that...” What must that have been like for Carol? Had they tried to bring him back? Or was it far too late? Her heart squeezed at the thought.
“I’m so sorry, E.”
She shrugged. “What are you going to do, right?”
He bumped his shoulder against hers, and they continued walking in silence for a bit. When they stopped at a red light at Sixty-Third Street, he spoke again.
“By the way, the event came off really well. You did an amazing job.”
She smiled. The program felt like it was ages ago. Strange how time could be so elastic.
“Thanks. I can’t imagine you had much fun, though.”
“Why would you say that? It was all good, and it probably doesn’t hurt my career to spend some time with partners from the firm. Besides, who doesn’t love a roaring-twenties theme?”
She laughed. “At least they didn’t make us wear flapper dresses and do the Charleston.”
“That certainly would have been different. Who chooses those themes anyway?”
“The board votes. You wouldn’t believe some of the things people propose.”
“Like...? You can’t leave me hanging like that.”
She reached back into her memory, before her life had been turned upside down. “Let’s see. Somebody wanted to do a seventies thing. But they couldn’t figure out how to execute it other than lots of disco balls and lava lamps.”
“I could imagine a lot worse. I thought you were going to say something like World War II. The whole place could be decorated like a bunker.”
She laughed. “How about nuclear winter? That could be fun.”
“Well, it is the holiday season?—what’s more cheerful than that?”
They stopped again at a traffic light, an Italian restaurant facing them at the far corner. “They have the absolute best lasagna,” Eliza noted, pointing.
“That’s quite an endorsement, especially considering the competition all over this city.”
They continued on, chatting about food, and then suddenly, they were at Eliza’s building. Should I invite him up? She didn’t really want him to go, but she knew he was just being kind, and she didn’t want him to think she’d gotten the wrong end of the stick.
She shifted her bag on her shoulder. “How are you getting home?”
He looked around, as if there might be a limousine waiting. “I’ll probably get a cab.”
Might as well bite the bullet. “You wanna come up for a minute first?”
He studied her face for a moment before answering. “Sure.”
She led the way and was soon unlocking the door to her apartment. “You want something to drink?” she asked, stepping inside. She had a sudden inspiration. “I can make hot chocolate.”
“What kind of good American would I be if I turned down hot chocolate?”
A few minutes later, barefoot and wearing her cocktail dress, she was heating milk on the stove and then adding it to cocoa powder in two mugs. Automatically, she brought it over to the couch. Josh was still standing, facing her bookcase, where he’d been commenting on her collection. “I really should read more,” he said, turning to join her. “I always end up reading the same authors I already know. I’m sure I’m missing good stuff.”
Eliza blew gently on her drink. “Who do you like to read?”
Josh sat and picked up his mug. “This smells great. Hmm. Ken Follett. Jon Krakauer.”
“You should try The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo . Oh?—and he’s very different, but Matt Haig.”
“Cool.” He sipped his hot chocolate.
“Is it okay?” She nodded toward his drink.
He grinned. “It’s chocolate. How can it be bad?”
They drank for a bit in silence. “Are you feeling better?” he asked.
She poked gently at her psyche. “I think so. I haven’t been getting much sleep for a while, which doesn’t help either.”
He set the mug down on the coffee table and turned to her. “You need to take care of yourself.”
His forehead was creased in concern, and Eliza had trouble tearing away from his steady gaze. His eyes were a rich chocolate brown, his hair curled just a tiny bit over his collar. She was starting to forget why she needed to keep her distance. That he was just her brother’s friend. Self-consciously, she pushed her hair behind her ears. She wasn’t used to it being loose, and she reached back and pulled it over her shoulder. His eyes followed her movements.
She blinked. “So, have you connected with Shira?”
It seemed to take him a moment to focus on the question. “Who?”
“Shira. Maren’s friend. I saw Scott give you her number at Friendsgiving.” She potentially sounded like a weird stalker, but she had to get this back onto safer ground for her own good.
One corner of his mouth curled up. “Oh. I’d forgotten her name. Yeah, he was trying to get me to call her. But I’m not interested. In her.”
Oh. Oh. Maybe the reason she’d been having trouble convincing herself about what was going on here was that she’d actually been wrong about what was going on. That what she had been afraid to hope for was actually the reality. As her mind spun and her pulse quickened, she moistened her lips, an action he seemed to find very interesting.
And then suddenly the chorus of “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” blared. Her ringtone. They both startled. Who was calling at nearly midnight?