Chapter 19 – Grace
Comparing myself to Blaire went against everything I ever planned to tell Piper about loving herself and loving others. And yet Blaire came here on Dean’s arm, and I didn't. How could I not compare us? She was so beautiful it was hard to look at her. When people talked about porcelain skin, this was what they were talking about. Not a freckle, not a blemish, just smooth everything, including her smile.
“I love your dress. Who are you wearing?” Blaire asked. She was the third woman to ask me. I thought it was just something fashion reporters yelled at celebrities, but apparently not.
It was a good thing I’d paid attention to the designer’s name, or I would have had to make something up. I’d chosen my particular dress because it gave me less sticker-shock than most, and none of my body parts were on the verge of falling out of it. But also, I really loved it, even if it was plainer than most of the dresses I saw around me. “Feriani Couture.” Was I supposed to return the favor and ask her? “What about you?”
“Oh, this?” She gestured down to the cream-colored, silky thing cradling her every curve. “Zuhair Murad. ”
The name meant nothing to me, but it was just about the most gorgeous dress I’d ever seen. Dean had eyes. There was no way he wouldn’t agree.
“How long have you known Dean?” I couldn’t help asking.
“Not long. I was surprised to be invited tonight, but I plan to make the most of it. He’s exactly what I’ve been looking for.”
Well then. That was… honest. I wasn’t sure if she was staking her claim or so confident in succeeding that she had no qualms about telling people her inner thoughts. Maybe if I had her face and body, I’d walk around saying whatever I wanted, too. No, I definitely still wouldn’t. No version of me would ever tell a perfect stranger my plans to lock down a man.
Henry sipped his drink, for once saying nothing, though I was sure he was filing this whole conversation away for later use in storytelling.
“You've known him a long time, though. What can you tell me about him?” She stared at me with full expectation that I would fill her in on everything Dean in the next thirty seconds.
“He likes to wear fun socks.” It was the first thing that came to mind.
Blaire’s forehead wrinkled. Not botoxed, then. Bummer.
Instead of giving her something better, I doubled down on the sock thing. “He’ll have accordion-playing cats on them or slices of pizza.”
“This is true,” Henry added. “It makes him easy to shop for.”
“Well, that is nice.” Blaire glanced back at Dean and his mother again. “Does he collect other things? Expensive watches. Wine? Cars?”
“Silicone bracelets.” My mouth was doing it again. Saying whatever came to mind. Maybe Blaire was rubbing off on me. “They’re all different colors, but they all say THE LOVE IS IN THE DETAILS on them.”
“Did he ever tell you why he wears those?” Henry asked me .
I shook my head. I’d never asked. Dean questioned me all the time, about everything. But I didn’t return the favor nearly often enough.
“A few years ago, he attended a youth leadership conference and spoke at it. He got to talking to a group of kids who planned to start their own car detailing business that summer. He told them he’d be their first customer. They had custom silicone bracelets made as part of their advertising. They give one out after every cleaning.”
“The love is in the details,” I murmured to myself. I did not need to be liking Dean more than I already did before this weird conversation. But I did. I totally did. No wonder he always kept his car immaculate. He was supporting yet another small business.
“They’re quite good at cleaning car interiors,” Henry said. “But I don’t like bracelets that rub, so I put them on a keychain. I have sensitive skin. I don’t even wear a watch these days.”
Blaire looked at us both like she wished Dean had more interesting people in his life. Which was fair. Henry seemed very uninterested in charming people tonight. Which probably meant I was rubbing off on him.
“Oh, good. Dean’s making his way back here.” Blaire pressed her hands together. “I’m looking forward to dinner. I’ll see you both later. It was such a pleasure to meet you.” She turned and rerouted Dean before he could reach us. Apparently, her pleasure in meeting us only went so far.
Henry and I watched as she steered him towards a couple who had just come in.
“I’m not rooting for that one,” Henry said. “Though she’s pretty enough and resourceful enough to make a mess of his life for a while. Ah, being in your twenties is fun. Glad I never have to do that again.”
“Me neither.”
Henry turned and looked at me. “How old are you now?”
“Thirty. ”
“Good for you. Thirty’s a good age.” He took out his phone from his jacket pocket and checked the time. “Grace, would you like to look at the silent auction with me? We have about fifteen more minutes until they’ll send us into the ballroom for dinner.”
“Of course.”
I followed him to the adjacent foyer where the silent auction tables were set in a half circle against the wall.
“Will there be dancing after dinner?” I asked. That hadn’t occurred to me until now.
“Pretty sure there will be.”
Oh, good, I’d get to see Dean holding someone else expertly in his arms. I quickly squelched that thought. It felt like jealousy, and I couldn’t allow that. No more comparing either. Blaire’s beauty didn’t detract from mine. This wasn’t a competition, and Dean wasn’t a prize to be won, even if she thought of him that way.
Henry and I waited our turn to get close enough to see what was being put up for charity. I took a sparkling water with raspberries from a waiter and watched while two men went back and forth, bidding up golf lessons from a Top 25 Master Coach. The auction also included a designer golf bag and a set of TaylorMade golf clubs.
“You’re not interested in getting in on this?” I asked Henry.
“No. In fact I’m writing their names down. If I’m ever invited to play golf with either of them, I’m taking them out to lunch instead. The only thing we’ll be comparing is who got the better steak.”
I thought he was joking, but he casually leaned in and checked the names and phone numbers on the auction sheet before adding them to his phone contacts. “Hmm. Actually, this guy’s already in here.” He dropped his voice and leaned towards me. “I have Raymond Fife down as Raymond Fife: Sore Loser in Racquetball but an Ace Lawyer . Also, he’s a vegan. I’ll just add a note about the golf thing.”
“Is this why you know everybody?” I asked in wonder .
“It is. My contact list is like a journal of sorts. I keep testing the character limit, but it doesn’t seem to have one. I have it backed up and Dean has the password, so when I die, go through it with him. It will be fun.”
“What do you have about me in there?”
He scrolled back up to my name. “Your birthday. Piper’s birthday. The phone and address of your shop. A note about you reverting back to your maiden name four years ago. You’re allergic to pistachios. You love pasta carbonara. And I added your dress size just this week.”
“Henry!”
“These kinds of things come in handy. For example, I made sure nothing in tonight’s dinner had pistachios in it.” He shrugged. “But I’ll delete all of that with no hesitation if you’d prefer it.”
“You’re not going to send me clothing gifts out of the blue?”
“No.”
“Then I’m fine with it.”
“It’s not creepy?”
“It’s a little bit creepy.”
He laughed. “I thought so. Which is why I don’t usually tell people about it. You’ll keep my secret?”
“I promise I will. Though I may want to see what you have in there about the people we’ll be eating dinner with tonight.”
“The power of my contacts list has already corrupted you.”
There were many other big-name items up for auction—tickets to sporting events and concerts, a day on the set of a movie being filmed in Tucson, a diamond necklace and matching earrings, a baby grand piano. We walked over to look at a table with a mini gurgling fountain, representing that the winner of the auction would get a backyard waterscape makeover that included two peafowl.
“Where is the monkey butler with the custom-made tuxedo?” a familiar voice right behind my ear asked .
I turned just in time to see Blaire tug at Dean’s lapel and lightly giggle. “A monkey butler. You’re so bad.”
A surge of irritation hit me. He’d followed us over here. Yes, Dean and I were buddies now, but I hadn’t thought about how that would give me a front-row seat to his dating life whether I wanted it or not. It took everything in me to not revert to my usual self-protection techniques. The old me would have given him a look and walked off, letting him come to his own conclusions about why, but Dean liked me for some reason. He’d told me he liked me, right when I needed to hear it. The least I could do was repay the favor with my behavior tonight, even if part of me wanted to rip Blaire’s perfectly manicured hands off of him.
I smiled. “You can keep the monkey butler. I’m looking for a live-in chef who looks like a Hemsworth brother.” I turned to Henry. “What would you want? If you could just snap your fingers and have it up for auction tonight?”
“A pizza oven in my backyard. I think I’m going to build one.”
“I can recommend someone.” Blaire said. “My sister has a full kitchen setup on her patio. She used this great company.”
“Really?” Henry got out his phone to take notes, and the two of them started discussing the pros and cons of gas versus electric grills, and then outdoor countertop options.
“You look beautiful,” Dean murmured. His eyes were on the fountain in front of us, but he’d stepped closer to me.
“Thanks. Please just focus on your date, though. I’m fine.”
“I’m not complimenting you because I think you need to hear it.”
“Then don’t.” I was being grouchy again, dang it. Tonight was a brutal reminder that for Dean, moving on was as simple as a phone call. I might never stop pining over him, but he had options. “Sorry, what I meant to say is, you look great, too.” He did. He was killing me with how well he filled out a tux .
“Thanks.” Dean looked like he was about to say something else, but Blaire claimed his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder.
“I love connecting good companies with people who need them. You’ll have to come over and see my sister’s pizza oven sometime, Dean. She and my brother-in-law make this amazing flatbread. It’s soft in the middle and crispy on the edges. Do you like flatbread?”
Dean nodded. “I do.”
“It’s settled then. I’ll call, and we’ll set something up.”
He looked at me, but I would not exchange private amused glances with him, no matter how much I wanted to confirm that yes, Blaire had pretty much just conned him into a second date. I had my limits.