CHAPTER NINETEEN
Blair
Then
“Blair—we need to go, babe. I don’t want to be late.”
“I’m coming,” I called. I was so excited for tonight.
Indigo Falls had plenty of festivals and parties throughout the year.
But the Orchid Ball? It was the pinnacle of social life in our small town.
It wasn’t an invitation only party, but the tickets were quite expensive.
It was black tie, always had a fun theme attached to it, and provided dinner, dancing, and conversation. And, of course, the auction.
Everyone loved the auction. Businesses around town would auction off their services at discounted prices.
Local artisans would auction off their wares, whether it was pottery, hand-made clothing, paintings, or wood carvings.
Donations from large businesses around the Metro Atlanta area who were looking for tax write-offs were always involved, and the prizes were excellent.
Those items ranged anywhere from gourmet food baskets to expensive jewelry and luxury boats.
The garden club always offered two or three highly coveted week-long vacations to exotic locations, as well as several weekend get-away trips.
Those trips were usually close by, like Barnsley Gardens in north Georgia or the Biltmore House in Asheville, North Carolina.
The proceeds from the auction were donated to different charitable organizations each year.
This year’s donation would be going to Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta.
Many families in Indigo Falls and all over Georgia trusted the specialists at CHOA when their children needed something more than what a general family practice could handle.
In addition to specializing in any area of medicine you could think of, CHOA often offered payment plans, reduced payments, or free care depending on a family’s needs.
They were dependent upon donations to be able to continue to do that.
Scott and I had taken Spencer to CHOA when Jack Crenshaw told us he thought he needed tubes in his ears. It had been such a good experience for all of us, and we were more than happy to donate to them.
I was hoping Scott and I would win one of the weekend get-aways. We could do with some couple time.
And the biggest part? I had a personal stake in the auction this year.
I had donated a basket of my gourmet sugar cookies, and I was hopeful a lot of people would bid on it.
I’d decided on a fall theme for the cookies, so there were pumpkins, apples, footballs, leaves, and intricate autumn wreaths.
I’d hand cut and decorated them with extra care, and I couldn’t help but admire the finished result.
They looked more like they’d come from one of the many well-known bakeries in Atlanta, not from my kitchen.
I was hoping to show Scott that my cookie business wasn’t just a side hustle I had to make ‘extra spending money’ as he’d intimated.
I’d bought a silky evening gown in deep burgundy.
It was sleeveless, with a tight bodice that made my boobs look amazing.
It also had a fitted skirt with a slightly daring slit up one leg.
It was a little outside my comfort zone, but I was tired of just looking like a mom.
I wanted to be desirable, sexy, and beautiful for an evening.
At least I wouldn’t have to see Scarlett tonight. The way she looked at Scott was unnerving. It was obvious she was interested. And she was a beautiful woman. I shook my head. Scott wouldn’t do that to me. He just wouldn’t. Would he?
I bit my lip. We’d had more fights about Scarlett than any other thing in our marriage. By far. But it didn’t make a difference. He wasn’t going to fire her, and I was never going to be comfortable with their relationship.
“Blair,” he called up the stairs, sounding more impatient by the minute.
“Coming,” I called back.
I took one last look in the mirror before grabbing my clutch off the vanity and heading down the stairs.
“Blair, we need to go…” Scott paused in the middle of his sentence when he saw me coming down the stairs. “My God. You look… amazing.” The way his brown eyes darkened and took me in from head to toe was gratifying.
Ha! Take that Scarlett.
He cocked his eyebrow and put his hands in his suit pockets. “We could just stay home,” he suggested.
I smiled. “You know we can’t. Diane is in charge of the Orchid Ball and will never let me hear the end of it if we’re not there.”
He sighed, but grinned. “Fine. I guess I’ll have to share you with the rest of Indigo Falls tonight.
” He held out his hand to help me down the rest of the stairs, and he pulled me into him when I reached the bottom.
He stroked one of his large hands over my bare shoulders and bent to whisper in my ear.
“But once we get home, you’re all mine.”
A slight shiver of anticipation went through me, and he gave me a knowing look.
“I can’t wait,” I murmured, holding his arm as he led me outside and to the car.
“We look so good,” Scott said, “the town won’t know what hit them.”
I laughed, but he wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t that sure of myself—there were plenty of gorgeous women in Indigo Falls—but I was damn sure about Scott. The way he filled out his bespoke tuxedo, his handsome face, the confident air he had, and his mesmerizing smile would draw just about any female in.
Whether she stayed had always been his problem before he met me. Scott’s social awkwardness was… epic in in its magnitude. I could only hope he wouldn’t be plagued by it tonight. Sometimes he was fine. And sometimes he wasn’t.
But I refused to be nervous about that on the way to the ball. I just wanted to have fun. With Gam watching the kids, Scott and I had a whole fifteen or so hours to ourselves. I wanted to make the best of it.
We walked in. The theme this year was ‘Hollywood Glamour’ and everyone, for the most part, looked amazing.
There were always a few people who refused to dress in the theme, but it didn’t make the night any less fun.
In fact, getting a glimpse of Mr. Finken in his baby blue plaid suit was considered a yearly tradition.
The man had worn the suit to every dressy event since the seventies.
From graduations and weddings to funerals and black-tie events, Mr. Finken was always there in his suit.
I even suspected he’d had the same suit replicated by a seamstress a few times over the years.
It looked far too new to be well over fifty years old.
Over the years we’d even become so used to it that it had become Indigo Falls lore. Everyone wanted Mr. Finken at an event, simply for the suit sighting. The poor man would probably be pretty sad if he knew his popularity was due to his strange outfit and not his sparkling personality.
Scott and I mingled, and he seemed to be doing well. He was relaxed, at ease. This helped me relax, too. I sometimes felt as if I had to be on high alert, ready to jump in at a moment’s notice to smooth over a social gaffe he’d made.
But tonight he seemed different. I was glad, though I had no clue what had caused the change. Whatever it was, I hoped it would last.
My thoughts were interrupted by Scott grabbing my hand. “We’d better go check out the auction items. There’s only an hour or so before dinner, and we don’t want to miss out.”
He held my hand as we walked through the room, assessing what was up for auction and whether or not we wanted it.
Some items were a given; we always bid on any vacation.
The other items were hit or miss. We walked past a display of designer jewelry, and I held back a gasp.
There was a set of beautiful jewelry from one of my favorite designers, Carolyn B.
It included a necklace, earrings, a bracelet, and a ring.
I wanted it. I stopped. “Let’s bid on this. ”
He glanced at it. “Really? You want that? I didn’t think you liked jewelry very much.”
I sighed inwardly. I loved jewelry, but the only thing he’d ever given me was my wedding rings. I’d hinted plenty over the years, but it hadn’t ever seemed to register with him.
“I’d love to have it,” I said. Our eyes met and held.
“Then you should have it,” he said as he bent down to write in his name and bid. I got excited when I saw the figure he’d written down. I might actually get some jewelry out of this event!
We moved around the room, placing bids every now and then. I glanced across the room and saw my cookie basket. I was pleased to see people gathered in front of it. I hoped there were lots of bids for it.
“I want to show you something,” I said to Scott, wondering why I was so nervous about it. My heart was beating like crazy. His opinion meant a lot to me, but he’d said very little so far about my cookie business. He didn’t seem to realize, or care, how well it was doing.
“Your wish is my command.” He allowed me to drag him across the room.
We stopped in front of my cookie basket. “Look,” I said proudly. “So many people have bid on it.”
They had. It was gratifying to see that there wasn’t any room left on the lined paper in front of the basket. People were starting to write their bids in the margins. I should’ve brought two baskets. Or more.
“It looks nice,” he said, but his eyes were looking around the room. “Do you want to bid on it? The bidding is out of control,” he frowned, looking at the last bid placed. “I don’t want to pay hundreds of dollars for a basket of cookies.”
He started to walk away.
I was shocked. He didn’t even know it was mine.
That I’d made the cookies he didn’t want to spend hundreds of dollars on.
I swallowed hard. That’s how little my business meant to him.
Before I could tell him that he’d hurt me or that I had donated the basket, Diane Crenshaw’s distinctive voice came over the PA system.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes the auction. Please make your way to the dining room and have a seat. Dinner is about to be served.”