“Am I under-dressed?” he asks her, his voice low.
“No, I dressed you. You’re fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t worry!”
Clive exhales, unconvinced, as he looks down at his stunningly appropriate suit and tie.
Nora pats his arm and spins on her heels to face me. “That goes for you, too!” she says, expertly walking backwards in her stilettos. “Don’t worry about Rob, okay? Trix and I won’t let you out of our sights!”
“That’s right!” Trix says. “You can count on us.”
“Yay,” I say.
We reach the front door. Nora takes a giddy step forward to tap the doorbell and we’re greeted by the loud opening notes of O Christmas Tree. The door swiftly opens and a man in a tuxedo lets us in with a bow.
“Welcome,” he says, barely audible above the humming party behind him.
Nora plows inside, taking poor Clive along with her. I hang back, letting Trix and Lance enter as well before following them inside.
“Hey, Bob,” I greet the doorman, a longtime family friend.
He bows his head. “Miss Melanie.”
“You know where my mother is?” I pause as the sound of her cackling echoes over the party. “Never mind,” I say with a smile. “She’s with the wine.”
Bob smirks as he silently closes the door.
I slink around Clive’s wide shoulders on the way toward the kitchen. His big eyes bounce from the grand staircase to the twenty foot tree to the string quartet in the sitting room belting out a rather upbeat rendition of Silent Night.
“Make yourselves at home,” I tell him and Nora as I gesture into the hall. “There should be drinks in the kitchen this way.”
“Yes, please,” Clive says, eagerly following me.
Nora chuckles and stays in step with him.
I try not to bump into people as I weave through the crowd. So many recognizable faces, from my father’s work friends or buddies from the club, to my mother’s wide circle of confidants, each one of them so delighted to see me. I grew up around this, constantly presented to the high end of Chicago society (and their very eligible sons), but it was never a life I wanted. I wanted to write and create art and live in the moment and do anything at all other than what was constantly expected of me.
That, of course, is where Robbie came in.
But that backfired.
By the time we finally reach the kitchen, my face is already burning from smiling so hard. My mother stands by the island counter wearing an elegant red and white cocktail dress and looking more than a little stunning for her age, but that’s Francie Rose for you. She chats up the woman lingering beside her, both of them ankle-deep in wine.
“Ooo, Sangria!” Nora says as she beelines for the wine across the kitchen.
I head toward my mother and pause on her other side. “Hey, Mom,” I say.
She spins around and grins. “Oh, there you are!”
“Here I am.”
She yanks me closer. “You remember Victoria,” she says, gesturing to the woman beside her.
I don’t.
“Of course.” I extend my hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Victoria.”
“And you, too!” Victoria gives me a light handshake. “Oh, you were right, Francie! She’d be so perfect for Cal!”
Oh, boy.
“Cal?” I ask, faking interest.
“Her nephew,” my mother says. “From the financial sector. You remember Cal.”
I don’t.
“Oh, right. Cal.” I nod. “How is Cal?”
“He’s recently divorced! Like you!” Victoria answers, far too excited.
I discreetly glare at my mother. “Of course he is...”
“The little whore cheated on him, can you believe it?” Victoria rolls her eyes. “Thank the lord for pre-nups is all I have to say. Anyway, he’s looking to wade back into the dating pool and your mother and I thought you...” She bats her thick eyelashes at me.
I deepen my smile, “... would set him up with my agent?”
My mother pinches my forearm as Victoria laughs.
“Such a delightful sense of humor!” Victoria shakes her head. “He’ll just love you!”
“I’m sorry, Victoria,” I say, nipping this in the bud, “but I’m not interested in wading back in right now myself. I’m sure Cal will understand.”
She sighs, disappointed. “Well, don’t take too long, dear,” she says. “Your biological clock must be screaming by now.”
I raise a brow, annoyed, but I’ve politely navigated this bullshit plenty of times before. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m doing just fine. Please excuse me.”
I turn away, bolting for the empty wineglasses at the other side of the counter. I grab one and begin inspecting the bottles as I silently shake off the annoying intrusion on my personal life.
“Melanie...” I hear my mother behind me, now thankfully Victoria-free.
“What?” I ask, yanking out a cork.
“There’s no harm in meeting him.”
I barely glance at her as I pour my glass. “I have met him, Mom, remember?”
“Oh, yeah? What does he look like?”
I furrow my brow, drawing blanks. “Like a dude in finance. Why are you trying to set me up with your friends’ nephews, anyway?”
“Is it so wrong to look out for my daughter?” she asks, feigning pure innocence.
“No, but I’m perfectly happy being single. You know that.”
“I just thought, since he’s from New York, that you’d like to have a friend or two there once you arrive.”
I glance around for eavesdroppers, spotting Nora and Clive swooning over each other nearby. “Mom...”
“Oh! That reminds me. I found Sylvia’s number. You remember the real estate agent we talked about—”
I grab her arm, forcefully swaying her toward the other side of the kitchen. “Mom.”
“What? What?” she asks. “What have I done now?”
I peek over my shoulder to make sure we’re alone. “I haven’t exactly told anyone that I’m leaving yet, and I don’t want to bring it up tonight, so if you could please keep that tidbit to yourself for now...”
“Gotcha!” She brings a phantom key to her lips and turns it. “I won’t say another word. You know how good I am at keeping secrets!”
“Just...” I scan the room again, “text me her info and we’ll talk about it later. Okay?”
“I will.” She nods. “Oh! Also, your dad will swing by
