Anne stared at herself in the mirror, or at least she thought that was her face. The woman in the mirror looked nothing like the woman that got up at five a.m. to run on the treadmill. Her hair was the same soft brown color, but the new highlights gave it a healthy shine. The tresses hung in loose curls, framing her face. Her eyes looked huge and exotic—the wonders of an eyelash curler and mascara, combined with some smoky eye shadow. Her lips looked fuller with a light pink sheer gloss.
The halter top of the black silky dress was cut deeply in front, but the girls had sent her with a special tape to keep everything securely in place with no gaping. Anne was self-conscious about the plunging neckline, although she was small enough nothing was revealed. The back of the dress dipped low on her spine, her back looking smooth with its recent spray tan. She leaned forward and backward and raised her hands experimentally, making sure nothing important was exposed. The material fell in curve-hugging swaths with a side slit that bared her leg from the knee down. Satisfied with the modesty of the dress, such as it was, she picked up her wrap and headed for the lobby.
She entered the lobby to find Henri chatting and flirting with Rayna. She observed he was even more handsome—if that was possible—in his tuxedo.
When he spotted Anne, his mouth fell open. “Mon dieu! I am in heaven. Vous êtes un ange. An angel from heaven.”
Anne felt her face flush with embarrassment. She walked slowly toward him, attempting to look stately, but actually working to keep her balance. Henri crossed the room to her side, and she gratefully took his proffered arm.
Rayna was practically jumping up and down. “Anne, you look great—like a movie star.”
Anne started laughing. “I can’t keep up the pretense. I’m so awkward in these shoes. If you just knew—” She stuck out a foot to exhibit the spiky heel. “This is not me. I’m so much more comfortable in jeans and a tee shirt with flat sandals.”
“But you look amazing. You were just hiding all this in those frumpy clothes,” said Rayna.
“And I am happy to stay so close to you so you will not fall. It will be our secret, notre secret. This way I can touch you all night.” Henri tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “And no one can steal my angel, mon bel ange.”
Anne felt the flex of Henri’s strong arm and realized she felt secure with him. She wondered at the irony of feeling safe on the arm of a notorious French playboy.
“Rayna, would you take our picture?” Anne held out her phone. “I promised the girls I would text them a picture.” Rayna snapped a few photos, and Anne sent the texts to Charlie and Emily.
“Please. Will you send a picture to me? Moi et mon bel ange.” Henri entered his cell number. “This is a new number. This number will reach me in Paris.”
Anne flushed as Rayna silently mouthed, “O.M.G.”
“Madame,” said Henri. “You are ready?”
Anne took a deep breath and returned a shaky smile. “Let’s go.”
Henri had ordered a limousine rather than a taxi, like before. There was a small group of society reporters gathered at the hotel entrance, snapping pictures and snagging interviews as guests departed the limos. Anne tried vainly not to be noticed, the task made more difficult because Henri basked in the attention. He stopped to converse with several of the journalists he knew, while Anne attempted to be inconspicuous. Henri unrepentantly told them his date for the evening was “an angel from Texas.” When one of the reporters joked he didn’t know there were angels in Texas, Henri declared there was only one angel from Texas, and she was in New York with him now. He flashed his white smile, while Anne burned crimson with embarrassment.
Henri talked animatedly as they walked through the lobby toward the Grand Ballroom. But Anne tugged on his arm. “Wait, Henri… I’m not ready. I’m nervous.”
“No need to be nervous. I will not leave you, and my arm is yours.”
“And we’ll avoid Steven Gherring?”
“We will stay far, far from Steven Gherring.” Henri smiled and led her into the ballroom.
As they entered the ballroom, Anne was filled with trepidation. Why had she agreed to go to this event with Henri? She would make a fool of herself and Henri as well. Anne knew more than 900 people had responded affirmatively for the gala, but she was somehow still overwhelmed by the mass of people, all clad in tuxedos and evening gowns.
The ballroom was large and separated into distinct areas. On one side was a buffet and adjacent to that an open bar. Sixty round bar-height tables with tall chairs were available for guests to utilize. However, the majority of the guests were milling about in the main center area, which provided a multitude of tall tables on which they could stash their refreshments. Waiters filtered through the crowd, offering trays of red and white wines, sparkling waters, and various hors d’oeuvres. In the back of the room a jazz band played on a small stage adjacent to the dance floor, their melodies a soft background in the vast hall.
True to his word, Henri spotted Gherring across the large hall and guided Anne away to the other side. He walked slowly, allowing Anne to navigate smoothly through the room. Henri stopped to talk with friends and associates, always introducing her as Anne, his angel from Texas.
Her nerves gradually dissipated, and soon she was laughing and talking, as a rather large group joined in their banter. The international visitors were curious about Texas and particularly intrigued with her drawl. She gave tourist advice to several couples who were planning to spend time in Texas before leaving the country.
“My favorite places are in the Hill Country. You’ve got to go to the River Walk in San Antonio. You should visit SoCo in Austin.” She ticked off the sites on her fingers. “And y’all should go to Fort Worth and see the Botanical Gardens. It’s even pretty in the winter.” She forgot her earlier worries, enjoying the chance to meet interesting people from New York and around the globe.
As one gentleman was recounting a humorous story, he stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes riveted over Anne’s shoulder. She heard a deep voice behind her. “Good evening, Ms. Best, Henri.” She turned to see Steven Gherring standing directly behind her. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Are you enjoying the party?”
Henri’s voice was stiff. “Your reception is magnificent, as usual.”
Anne twisted toward Gherring while frantically clutching Henri’s arm, trying to still her shaking hands.
“Ms. Best, I hope your family emergency is much improved?”
Anne’s cheeks burned like fire. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gherring. I didn’t want to lie to you. Katie said she could handle everything, so I took the day to go to the spa. You should fire me. I can’t even believe I did it. It’s really not like me to lie or skip work. I never even played hooky from school—not one day. I’m sorry—”