Chapter 10
G ordon pulled back Anita’s chair and offered her his elbow. The elegant couple, she in loden green velvet that kissed her ankles and he in a tailored black suit with a black shirt and tie, exited the dining room of The Mill. Other diners followed their progress with admiring glances.
“What a fabulous meal! That’s the best beef Wellington I’ve ever had,” Anita said. “Though I’m sure it pales when compared to what you’ve had in New York.”
“I was about to say the same thing about the Wellington,” Gordon said. “The service was impeccable, too, and the chef handled every dish perfectly.”
“So Westbury isn’t the sleepy backwater I think it is?”
“Not in the least,” Gordon replied. He placed his free hand over hers as they strolled toward the lobby. “Have I told you how stunning you look? That green velvet dress is perfect with your eyes. And to think you were worried about having nothing to wear.”
“I’d forgotten about this dress,” she said.
“To tell you the truth, this is the first time I’ve worn it, and I’ve had it for years.
Someone brought it into my shop for alterations and never returned to pick it up.
Those items typically go on the sale rack, and if they don’t sell, we donate them.
But I thought this dress was so pretty, I kept it for myself. ”
“You must’ve had a premonition that you’d need it one day.” His eyes twinkled as he looked at her. “That swirly skirt looks like it’s perfect for dancing.”
“It’s called a fit-and-flare style,” Anita said. “And, yes—it would be fun to dance in this.”
“They have dancing in the ballroom tonight,” Gordon said. “The Mill has hired a ten-piece orchestra to play big band music from nine until midnight.”
Anita squealed. “You’re kidding me!”
“I didn’t know if you like to dance,” Gordon said with a smile. “But I reserved a table for us in case you’d like to check it out.”
Anita stopped walking and tugged on his elbow, pulling them both to a halt. “Pinch me,” she said. “I must be dreaming.”
Gordon chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“It’s a yes times a thousand,” she said, her voice trembling with joy. “My ideal man? That’s you, Gordon.”
He led her to the ballroom.
Anita peered around Gordon’s shoulder while he gave his name to the host. The band was playing“One O'clock Jump” by Count Basie. At nine thirty, the dance floor was already crowded.
The host checked off Gordon’s name on his list and led them around the outskirts of the dance floor to a small round table on the far side of the room. Gordon slipped the host a folded bill and pulled out Anita’s chair for her.
A server arrived with water and asked for their drink order.
“Champagne?” Gordon looked at Anita and raised an eyebrow.
She turned both palms up and looked around the room, wide-eyed. “Yes,” she said. “This whole evening is straight out of central casting for a fantasy New Year’s Eve date. I’m certain they’d be drinking champagne.”
“Do you have a favorite?” he asked her.
Anita sputtered with laughter. “I rarely drink champagne. I’m afraid I don’t,” she admitted. “Pick whatever you’d like.”
Gordon placed the order with the server, who nodded with a look of appreciation in his eyes.
“Very nice choice, sir. I’ll be right back.”
Gordon and Anita turned their attention to the dance floor. A couple in front of them executed West Coast swing moves with flawless precision.
Anita leaned toward Gordon. “They’re fabulous,” she said.
He nodded, eyes scanning the room. “As a matter of fact, ninety percent of the people out there are really good. I had no idea there were so many talented dancers in Westbury. I’ll bet people come from all over to enjoy this,” Gordon said. “The Mill puts on a first-rate New Year’s Eve.”
The server returned with a silver champagne bucket on a stand, rivulets of condensation snaking down its ice-cold sides.
He plucked the bottle from the ice, wrapped it in a towel, and gripped the cork while twisting it off.
A fragrant, wispy cloud of champagne followed the soft pop.
He poured a small sample into a tall flute and handed it to Gordon.
Gordon took a sip and nodded.
The man filled a flute for Anita and topped off Gordon’s. “If you’d like anything else, please let me know,” he said, pointing to a card leaning against the bud vase in the middle of the table. “We offer coffee and dessert if you’d like something later.”
As the server moved away, Gordon turned to Anita. He picked up his glass and held it out.
“To us,” he said. “To the excitement that next year holds for us.”
Anita tapped his glass with hers. “Hear, hear.”
They both sipped their champagne.
“Ready?” Gordon asked. He set his glass on the table, stood, and extended his hand to her.
“If you’re sure we won’t embarrass ourselves,” Anita said. “I used to dance, but that was years ago. I’m terribly rusty.”
“Nonsense,” Gordon said. “The only thing that really matters is that we have fun.”
She placed her hand in his, and he led her onto the dance floor as the band began playing“In the Mood”by Glenn Miller. Gordon took her hands and pulled her close.
“Something tells me,” he said, “we’re going to give the rest of these couples a run for their money.”
He leaned back and led her into a basic sugar push sequence.
Anita followed his lead, and everything she’d ever learned came rushing back.
Gordon and Anita danced the night away, returning to their table only occasionally for a sip of champagne or a drink of water.
When the orchestra playedIrving Berlin’s “Cheek to Cheek,” Anita melted into Gordon’s arms. As the song suggested, she lifted her chin and pressed her cheek against his, drinking in the lingering scent of his aftershave.
“You smell divine,” Gordon whispered in her ear.
“I was thinking the same about you,” Anita replied.
Gordon pressed a kiss to her temple.
As the song ended, the orchestra leader proclaimed it was almost midnight. He encouraged the dancers to raise a glass. The orchestra leader announced that the orchestra would conclude with “Auld Lang Syne,” and invited everyone to the lobby for The Mill’s fireworks display over the river.
“Would you like to stay for the fireworks?” Gordon asked.
Anita nodded. “They’re famous. I’d love that.” She didn’t say what she was really thinking—that she didn’t want this night to end.
Gordon retrieved their champagne flutes from the table and handed Anita her glass. They looped their arms around each other and swayed to the sentimental tune as they drained their glasses. A loud pop sounded overhead, signaling the stroke of midnight.
Gordon pulled Anita to him, lowered his mouth to hers, and they greeted the New Year with a lingering kiss.