I didn’t have much time to think about leaving Davis at The Hamburger Stand. Maybe that was a good thing, because it kept me from ruminating on something I wouldn’t be able to change. The agreement my mother and I signed had been ironclad. It would never expire. Spending time with Davis Armstrong III would be stupid. One misstep would mean disaster.
Besides, I had every reason to think Davis wouldn’t stay in the area for much longer, and once he left, I’d resume my lifestyle away from his. We didn’t live in the same town, for one thing. I spent my time in West Palm Beach; when he visited South Florida, he almost never left Palm Beach, and more than that, he rarely left the estate.
Our futures wouldn’t cross.
By the time I drove from the restaurant to the pharmacy, picked up my mom’s prescription, and returned to the apartment, I had decided that yes, I could do this. I could live my life without Davis Armstrong in it. Soon, I might not remember he’d tried to reenter it.
“Mom, are you awake?” I called out in a whisper as I crept through the front door of our unit.
It was very late, and she often went to bed much earlier. I pulled the door shut and tiptoed across the living room. When I reached the bedroom entrance, though, I was surprised to see a small reading light coming from it. I gave the door a small tap to push it open.
“Sam,” Mom said through some heaving breaths. “You’re home.”
“Yes.”
Mom smiled. She wore her portable oxygen mask, and the machine gave a small whirl as she sent air in and out of her lungs. The device was one of the many things that had eaten through what remained of our money in the last few months. It had cost over a hundred bucks out-of-pocket after the insurance payout, even after we’d been able to find a refurbished one. Still, she needed it, and I would have done anything to provide her with whatever she required to keep her comfortable.
“Did you go out after work?” she asked.
“I stopped by The Hamburger Stand, but I didn’t stay long.” I didn’t add that I drove around aimlessly afterward, thinking. Instead, I took the prescription bag out of my purse and placed it on the nightstand. “Here’s your medicine.”
“Thank you, sweetie.” Her eyes searched my face. “You look tired.”
“How can you tell? You can barely see me.”
“I know my kid.”
“Yes, you do.” I felt some tension leave my shoulders, but I didn’t know how long it would stay away. At least the day was over, and I’d soon be able to get to sleep. Not that I expected to sleep very well. “Listen, it’s been a long day. More tomorrow.”
We said goodnight, and I kissed her on the cheek then headed to my room. On the way, I glanced in the broken mirror that hung over the bathroom sink. She was right. I was tired.
Tired beyond my years.
I was still exhausted and weary for days. When I arrived at the Society of the Four Arts for an extra shift Nicole had scheduled at the last moment, I estimated I’d probably gotten about sixteen hours of sleep totally for the week, far less than needed. Insomnia, coupled with intense worry, would do that to a person. I hadn’t heard from Davis again, and part of me had been disappointed. But the logical side of me knew it was for the best. Besides, I couldn’t think about that. I had work to do and bills to pay.
Always the bills.
“Okay, Sam,” I told myself as I got out of my car, “perk up. Just get through tonight.”
I locked the door with my key fob and strode across the street toward the back entrance. A large catering truck emblazoned with the Haute Holidays logo was parked in the parking lot, a safe distance from the Four Arts building and the large accompanying garden. A balmy breeze blew through the trees, and I suspected most of the party would take place in the garden, between the tropical leaves and manicured flowers.
When I arrived in the catering kitchen, I found it abuzz with activity.
“Oh God,” Nicole said, barely giving me a glace as she arranged a large platter of spanakopita. Several other staffers rushed around making final preparations, and they murmured a few greetings as I entered. “I’m so glad we gave you this extra work, Sam. It turns out that we needed you. They’re expecting double the original guests.”
“That’s a lot,” I remarked as I washed my hands in the small service sink near the catering kitchen entrance. “Can I help you with that?”
She shook her head. “I need you to work on that plate of brie tartlets.” She pointed at a tray with her elbow. “If you would, please place the them in a large circle around the pineapple slices.”
“Right away.”
“Thanks. I need at least three more trays of that.”
I set about doing the task, grateful she’d given me something mindless and easy to do as I counted down to the start of the party. When I finished the four trays, I moved on to a platter of miniature cheeseburgers and then to bite-sized crab cakes. Like at many of the parties in Palm Beach, the hosts had ordered too much food. Most of the socialites in town spent half their time at events turning it down, and their husbands refused it too out of principle. No one wanted to appear greedy during times when every conversation and every movement had implications.
Before long, the guests had arrived in the garden, a string quartet played, and some of Palm Beach’s richest and most well-connected residents mingled under twinkling lights as the team from Haute Holidays served craft cocktails and bite-sized quiches rebranded with exotic names. I forced a smile onto my face and hoped it would hide the tiredness that swept through my bones.
“Would you like a brie tartlet?” I asked one man, who I vaguely recognized as a former cabinet official I’d seen on several twenty-four-hour news networks. “They’re delicious.”
Not that I’d had a chance to eat any.
“Just one,” the man said then chuckled along with the woman hanging off his arm. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, but her tight skin and puffed lips told me she’d already undergone several rounds with a plastic surgeon. The man popped the appetizer in his mouth and slid a glance at the woman. “Maybe two.”
He took another piece off my tray just as I noticed Davis walk up behind him.
Oh God. My stomach lurched then pushed into my legs, and I cursed myself inside. Of course, Davis would be at this party. Of course, he wouldn’t miss it. And of course, I would run into him.
Even I could tell this party featured Palm Beach’s wealthiest residents, and Davis had never been anything but one of them.
“Secretary Newman,” Davis said, looking right through me. “It’s so wonderful to see you again.” He held out a broad hand.
The secretary shook it. “Likewise, Davis. Fantastic to run into you. And it’s great to be home from Washington.”
“DC is nothing but a swamp.” Davis wrinkled his nose. “A necessary one, though.”
“Sadly.” Secretary Newman and the woman next to him laughed. “As long as we keep making money and the Dow keeps going up, my work is done.”
I took a step to leave, but the secretary gestured at my half-full platter.
“How about a brie tartlet?” he asked Davis. “Maybe two?”
“Oh, yes, I wondered who had the food around here.” For the first time since walking up to us, he allowed his attention to slide over to me. A smile pulled at his lips. “How do they taste?”
“Delicious,” I replied, and my toes curled inside the thick black shoes I wore as part of my Haute Holidays uniform. “Exceptional. That’s what we strive for.”
“They’re okay. Perhaps a little bit too salty,” Secretary Newman interjected. “About what you’d expect in a place like this, on a night like this.”
“Well, let me try one then,” Davis said, his gaze fixed on me, and his eyes locked with mine. Without breaking it, he took a tartlet off the tray and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm,” he said after chewing it a few times. “I think you were right.”
“I usually am,” I muttered, unable to help myself.
“Davis, since we ran into each other tonight, I want to talk with you about the merger your grandfather is putting together between Armstrong Atlantic Sugar and Downton Global. You’ll need congressional approval.” He lowered his voice. “And while I probably shouldn’t mention it, I have a few inside tips for you on that.”
Davis raised a hand. “All of that can wait for one night, I think.” He raised his eyebrow. “Do we really have to talk about the family business?”
“Of course not.” Secretary Newman took another piece from my tray and popped it in his mouth. After a swallow, he said, “Especially given an open environment like this one.”
“Why don’t you shoot me an email, and we can set something up?” Davis reached into his jacket pocket and handed the secretary a business card. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.” He turned back to me. “You look a little surprised to see me, Samantha.”
The woman next to Secretary Newman let out a small gasp. “You don’t know her, do you?”
Davis regarded her. “As a matter of fact, I do. Her mother was one of our family’s best employees. That is, until she mysteriously left our employment.”
She scoffed. “I can’t remember the last time I considered myself friends with the help. Probably never.”
“Just not done, right?” Davis stepped closer to me, and I got a strong whiff of sandalwood and lavender. My toes curled a little tighter. “But this woman, and her mother, were always different. Now, will you please excuse us?”
Secretary Newman and his date clucked a few tsks and moved on when the secretary saw someone else he wanted to network with. For a few seconds, we were alone.
My mouth dried up faster than a puddle of water in the Sahara. “I should…I should…um—”
“Get some more appetizers, right?” Davis grinned. “Wouldn’t want to let anyone in this crowd go hungry.”
“Right. The horror.” Hiding my own smile, I glanced at my tray, which was still mostly covered in fancy tartlets that costs several bucks a piece and took an exorbitant amount of time to make. “Going hungry is the last thing that I want to happen to them.”
Davis’s grin fell from his face. “You know, about the other night…I just wanted to say that while I was upset you left, I understand.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I doubt you do.”
“We haven’t seen each other in a long time. People change. Time passes, and life gets complicated. I was probably wrong to press you into seeing me.”
I bit the inside of my bottom lip as I weighed the fact that I really wanted to tell him the truth but couldn’t do it there. Not in the middle of a cocktail party. Not while I was supposed to be working. And not when we were talking about such a dramatic and sensitive subject.
No, I can’t.
“If you don’t want to be friends, or even acquaintances, I will have to accept that,” Davis said. “Even if, a long time ago, we were much, much, much more than that.”
“Please,” I whispered, “don’t do this to me.”
“Don’t do what? I’m not doing anything.”
“Yes, you are. You’re making me wish I could change things,” I managed. “And I can’t.” I stepped backward. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to take care of the rest of the guests.”
I turned away and wove through the crowd, knowing it was to my advantage. Davis had too much breeding and far too many manners to make a scene in front of people he and his grandfather wanted to impress.
When I reached the catering kitchen, Nicole was restocking trays with bites of caviar on crackers.
“Do you mind if I take care of that?” I set down the appetizer tray that needed refilling. “I know you wanted me to serve tonight, but if you don’t mind, I could really use a different task right now.”
Nicole looked up from the caviar tray and frowned. “What? Why?”
“It’s just…” I glanced at the doorway, the only thing standing between me and the party. “I know I’ve been acting strange lately, but I have a lot of things going on right now, and I need you to give me some leeway here.”
“But I need another server.” She blanched. “You don’t expect me to do it, do you?”
“No, but I just—” I bit my lip. “Please, Nicole. I know I’ve been acting weird lately. It’s just that…I don’t know. There are a lot of things I’m trying to handle right now.”
She studied me for a beat then let out a large sigh. “I can have Steve switch from overseeing the team to serving. And you can take my place here.”
“I owe you,” I told her as she walked out of the catering kitchen. “I really do.”
I resumed a place at the table, putting dollops of caviar on small crackers. I repeated that task until the last half hour of the party, when the food service ended, and we began packing up for the night. The entire time, I kept thinking about Davis. I simply couldn’t stop.
I was so aware of everything about him—how the skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled, how his jaw had grown sharper in the last decade, and how his natural tan highlighted and enhanced his blond hair. Davis had always been handsome and alluring, and more than that, he’d always known it.
But the man who kept showing up in my life now was different. He was magnetic. Tempting. Tenacious. And he stirred a need in me I hadn’t felt in years. His presence made me realize that despite being around people sometimes ten hours a day, I spent a lot of time feeling lonely. I shouldn’t complain, though. My mother had done everything in her power to make my life amazing. Yet she was so ill we rarely sat and talked like we used to. Rarely laughed at funny anecdotes of Royal Palm patrons. Rarely relaxed and enjoyed life. It was always days of hard work after days of hard work. It was not as if Davis would change any of that. So why did my heart still wish for his friendship? Possibly even his love?
I didn’t have a good answer for either of those questions. When the night finally ended, I shuffled to my car, still thinking about him.
And then, there he was, leaning against it.