Warrington filled the silence. “I know. When you first suggested it, I didn’t really know what you had in mind, but I do now. I understand.”
“Do you?” Miranda’s voice was beseeching.
“I do. I misunderstood it at first. I thought we would go back to the way it used to be with you and me, and with Alison.”
“No.”
“I know. I see the change in you. You’ve grown so much.”
“I have. That’s just it. I have. I want something different. I don’t want to go backwards. I want to go forward.”
“Maybe it’s time for something different for all of us.”
Miranda swung around to face forward again, taking a drink from her cocktail. “That’s fine for you and me to say, but what about Alison? She has to have a say in this. Is she ready for something new?”
Warrington chuckled. “If today’s reaction is any indication, maybe.”
“But she has to want it, I want her to want it, to want me. I want her Matt, I want you both, but I want you both willingly. You can’t make this part of your existing relationship. That won’t work for me. It’s got to be something new, for all of us. Including you.”
Miranda knew she was asking Warrington to give up control. She wasn’t sure he could. She took a side glance to see the effect her last statement made on him. As usual, she couldn’t read his expression. He stared forward, stoically, but she knew he was thinking about it. She knew him well enough to know when he was seriously considering something.
Warrington picked up his glass, swung around and offered Miranda a toast, she picked up her martini glass, clinking it with his. “To new beginnings,” he said, tilting his glass to his lips and draining it.
Within the city, the Lover’s Ball and the Dominion hotel are synonymous with Valentine’s Day. The Lover’s Ball has been a standard for the Dominion Hotel for decades. Those who are in love believe attending the ball will cement their love forever. Those seeking love believe they will find it there.
The Lover’s Ball committee was meeting in a small conference room on the banquet level of the hotel. They typically met at the end of the workday, each committee member having a fulltime job. The committee was going over the few remaining details the day before the event. Most things were already in place.
“We can’t serve oysters this year, Mr. Warrington,” reported the chef. “I lost my supplier, and I can’t guarantee the quality of what is out there.”
“Best not to poison the guests,” replied Warrington. “We want the event to be in the papers for the right reasons, not the wrong ones. What else?”
“The guest list is complete.” Amy and Frank oversaw the guest list last year, it had only made sense to task them with it again this year.
“Another sellout,” reported Frank, seemingly pleased with himself, taking credit for the attendance levels.
“The ball sells out every year, Frank,” commented Warrington, blunting Frank’s enthusiasm.
“Last year was a bit of a challenge,” chimed in Amy, supporting Frank.
With Warrington’s focus on Amy, he addressed her. “Décor? Are we all set?”
Amy perked up, pleased to give her report. “The floral arrangements come tomorrow. The lobby ones are stunning, reds, yellows, blues.”
“Blue?” questioned Warrington.
“The colors of love, Mr. Warrington.”
Warrington glossed over the comment. “All right, I think that’s it. I don’t think we need to meet again. Reach out directly to each other if there are any changes or if you feel a need.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got to go.”
Warrington quickly shoved his notebook and pen into his briefcase, grabbed it and dashed for the door. He was out of the room before anyone else had even risen from their seat. He knew Alison would be waiting for him in the driveway with the car and didn’t want to have her wait longer than necessary. He leapt down the grand staircase two stairs at a time, walking across the lobby as quickly as possible, his gait slightly less than a run.
As he came out the hotel, he quickly scanned the curved driveway, looking for Alison. He spotted her to his right, standing next to a black sedan, the Broadstone Hotel car. The hotel driver, dressed in a black suit and chauffeur cap, stood on the opposite side of the car, by the driver’s door, looking away from the hotel, back towards the street. A quick image of Miranda flashed through his mind, dressed similarly, back when she was a chauffeur, first his, then Alison’s.
The moment he spotted Alison, he also spotted Miranda. Miranda was walking up from the street, coming around the bend of the driveway, making her way directly towards Alison. Alison hadn’t seen him yet. Miranda must have called her name, as she turned to face the direction Miranda came from. Alison rose a hand to wave hello. Warrington’s initial impulse was to go over as well, however an instinct possessed him to stay where he was, watching the two women from the distance. He took a step back towards the hotel doors, not really knowing why, because it did not hide him from view any more than where he was already standing.
Warrington could not hear what the two women were saying to each other, but he curiously watched the motions of their conversation. Miranda was quickly beside Alison, smiling, exuding an uncharacteristic warmth. She stood close to Alison, her hands at her sides, swinging slightly. Miranda’s fingers kept swinging close to touching Alison’s. Subtlety, purposely,
