Chapter Seven
Riley
The dress whispered along the hardwood floor of the apartment. I imagined it was telling me elegant stories about red carpets and exclusive parties and how fairy tales could come true. Although I felt like Cinderella in the gold chiffon dress, I still couldn't face the mirror.
The dress seemed like it was made for me —too bad I was a fraud.
I had to take a series of long, slow breaths, feeling the tight waist of the dress against my ribs, before I was able to turn and face the antique mirror. At first, I kept my eyes on the reflected view. The windows of the attic apartment were open and the Pacific Ocean glittered with the afternoon sun. Then I peeked at the hem of the dress.
Tiny crystals winked from under the golden edge. The delicate lace overlay trailed up, accentuating the curve of my hips before it met with the tight waist. The lace gave way to the gathered gold chiffon top and I gasped. My cleavage was shocking after my usual scoop-necked t-shirts. I couldn't help but turn and admire the ripe curves the dress revealed.
The Versace design simultaneously covered and exposed me. My shoulders were bare, and the backless dress forced me to hold myself up taller. The low-cut halter top gathered in shining gold folds that gave my skin a honeyed glow.
The vintage earrings caught sunlight and turned it into glittering prisms that reflected across my bare neck and shoulders. I was so pleased with the rainbow brushes that my hair no longer bothered me. I had spent nearly an hour teasing it into an elaborate up-do, but many silky strands had slipped out. Now it was in a messy bun that I hoped captured a carefree and windswept look. Or I just looked like a wild-haired changeling that had no business wearing such a beautiful gown.
Definitely a changeling, I thought, as I eyed the woman in the mirror. She was poised, stunning, and radiated elegance. Inside, all I felt were butterflies of excitement and panic.
"There's no courage without fear," I told myself. Grandpa had often told me stories where the brave knights admitted to trembling before they faced the dragon.
Luckily Landon wasn’t a dragon. He was just a regular guy who’d happened to invite me to a very fancy event. I hoped he'd be just as insecure in his rented tux. The thought of him dressed to impress melted my already liquid insides.
Maybe, if I was lucky, Landon and I would get to see each other in our finery, enjoy the party for a short while, and end up back at The Sand Dollar before we turned into pumpkins.
I ignored my recent run of bad luck and headed for the narrow stairs down to the bar.
When my gold heels hit the last step, there was a shattering crash behind the bar. Andrew stood at the tap, wearing a tuxedo shirt and cummerbund, his empty hand still curved in the shape of a pint glass. I rolled my eyes at his obvious attempt to make me feel better, and then I noticed the other customers.
A white-haired woman beamed at me, one hand over her heart. Her husband's runny eyes widened. The two middle-aged men Andrew had been serving turned on their stools and smiled.
I leaned down to gather the train in one hand and felt my cheeks catch fire. It got worse when I stepped toward the bar. Coming out of the shadowed stairwell, I heard two low whistles, and the bar fell quiet. I imagined what they were seeing: a gawky woman with messy hair in a dress ten times too good for her.
Gold. Why was I wearing gold? How had I let Rosalyn railroad me into the Versace dress? I knew it was vintage, but I had no idea if it was still in fashion. Most of the bar patrons were men in black tuxedos. The few women were in black sequined or black satin gowns. I might as well have chosen a neon sign.
Andrew cleared his throat. "You look gorgeous, Riley." He blinked and noticed the tense atmosphere. "Stop gawking and drink up, my friends —this pre-party is coming to a close!"
I moved to the end of the bar and tried to hide behind the video poker game.
"Sorry about all this,” he said to me. “The locals like to get a drink before heading up. We're all used to each other's finery. It's nice to have a new view."
I shook my head, careful not to dislodge my bun, and hitched up the dress’s shoulder straps. "It's too much. I mean, I look like a televised award trophy or something."
"Why is it that women can never give themselves any credit?" Andrew groaned. "I know men have meat for brains when it comes to fashion, but we do have eyes."
"Was Rosalyn just waiting to unload this gold dress on some unsuspecting fool?" I wondered aloud. "Oh my god, am I going to be the butt of a town joke?"
"What?" Andrew gaped. "What in the hell is going on in that head of yours?"
I moved around the bar and chose a stool with my back to the room. "I get it," I said. "You had the chance to put someone in this outrageous dress and that way you can all laugh about it until next year."
"The only thing outrageous about that dress is how good you look in it," one of the middle-aged men called from down the bar. He lifted the pint glass Andrew had finally re-poured for him.
"Thanks, but I know when people are just telling me things to make me feel better." I waited until Andrew came back down the bar closer to me. "I know you think I'm this sad stray, but I really don't need your pity."
"Right about now I'm pitying the next idiot who tries to compliment you," Andrew said.
That made me laugh. I blew out a deep breath. Maybe I was acting a little crazy. "It fits perfectly," I conceded.
"Hell, you don't have to tell any man here." Andrew leaned his arms on the bar and waggled his eyebrows at me. "So, if you don't need my pity, Ms. Riley, just what can I get you?"
"What's best for a little liquid courage?" I asked.
Andrew nodded, spun around, and grabbed a low, wide bottle. "Tequila. Without a doubt."
"She drinks free, right, Andrew?" the men at the bar called. "Least you could do to thank her for improving the view."
My cheeks burned hotter, then I felt a cool, papery hand on my bare arm. "Don't listen to them, darling. You are an absolute vision. If I was forty years younger, I'd be burning with envy.
Do an old woman a favor and forget about what you think. You feel good in that dress, don't you? That's all you need to know."
I put my hand over hers and squeezed. "Thank you."
Her husband shuffled an arm around her and gave me a wink.
I watched them head through the bar in their finery, leaning on each other. It didn't matter what I was wearing because seeing their mutual affection was the most beautiful thing in this town.
"A free shot of tequila for our lady in gold," Andrew said.
"No. No more free things."
He cleared his throat. "I can't help but wonder where you're keeping money in that dress."
I scowled and shook my small leather clutch at him. "I'm paying for the drink, and I'm going to pay you for this dress."
"Here we go again," Andrew said and poured himself a shot of tequila.
"Seriously, I don't understand what would possess you to do something like that. I know you probably meant to be nice and helpful, but men don't just go around buying vintage designer dresses for women they don't know," I unloaded. "Did Rosalyn owe you a favor or something? That's the only explanation I can think of."
Andrew snorted. "As if Rosalyn would ever do me a favor. No, wait, maybe she'd do me the favor of pushing me if I ever got too close to a cliff."
His matter-of-fact tone threw me off. "I thought everyone around here was close."
"I didn't say we weren't close," Andrew chuckled. "In fact, that might be the problem. Either way you look at it, Rosalyn did not do me a favor by giving you that dress."
I paused and took the shot of tequila. My brain was swimming with too many other nervous thoughts, and I couldn't process what Andrew was saying. I waited until the fiery gulp sizzled into my stomach. Moments later the warmth fanned out into my body and I relaxed a tiny bit.
"You know I worked last night just to have something to do, right? It felt good to be useful instead of just standing around, feeling out of place. It was nice enough of you to let me help. I didn't expect or want you to pay me," I said.
"Truth be told, the only people I paid last night were Ruiz and his crew. The gala crowd puts a lot of strain on the kitchen. The rest of us give our wages to the Michel Fund," Andrew said.
Nerves and the tight gold chiffon made it hard to sit still on the barstool. I slipped down and moved to stand against the bar. My nervous fingers found a pile of cocktail napkins as Andrew poured me another shot of tequila.
"So, is your friend Rosalyn in the habit of giving away dresses?" I shredded the first napkin in the pile.
"Like you said, you aren't a charity case and you certainly don't look like one," Andrew said.
I eyed him. He shook his black hair and stepped away.
"You know something about it, though,” I said. “Don't you?"
"Just think about it," he said with a sigh. "Who would want you to have a dress so you can go to the gala?"
I frowned. "The Michels? So I can support their charities?"
Andrew laughed and kept laughing as he started to close up the bar. I fidgeted over the napkins as he patted regular customers on the back and pushed in chairs. By the time he made his way back to the bar, he was still chuckling.
"Come on, I'm nervous enough as it is," I confessed. "I'm starting to realize I underestimated this whole event and now I'm going to it on a first date. Do you have any idea how nerve-wracking that is?"
Andrew eyed the pile of tattered napkins. "I can guess."
"So if you know anything about the mystery of this dress, you should just tell me."
"All I can tell you is that I can't wait to see Landon's face. You are going to knock him on his ass."
I dropped the napkin scraps and fluttered my hands. It was a ridiculous gesture but my panic had to come out somehow. The only other outlet I knew was running and my dress and heels were not going to allow that. "This is crazy. I can't go on a first date like this. It's a date, isn't it?"
Andrew's smile burst through his thick beard. "It is most certainly a date."
"Then where is he?" I forced myself not to turn around and search the porthole windows that overlooked the parking lot. "What if he's changed his mind? Maybe he just had too much to drink last night."
I pushed the second shot of tequila away from me. My stomach already felt wobbly just thinking about Landon. I didn't know much about him, so there was no way to judge if he was the type to stand a woman up or if he kept his word. And if I was being honest with myself, it was hard to tell which I hoped was the truth.
If Landon didn't show up, then I looked ridiculous in front of a few of the bar regulars. I could return the dress to Rosalyn, leave it on her front step if I had to, and pretend it was all a tipsy mistake. Another night in Michel's Beach would be awkward, but I could move on in the morning and not look back.
On the other hand, if Landon showed up, I was pretty sure my heart was going to stop. Flashes of the way he looked the night before kept buffeting my thoughts. Tall, broad shoulders, those electric blue eyes that sent a jolt through me, and that high-wattage smile. More than that, though, was the way his voice dropped when he revealed something true about himself: the loss of his parents, his love for Michel's Beach. If Landon showed up, I feared it would be a night I would never forget. Even when I had to move on.
I waited five whole minutes. "He's not coming. I've been stood up."
Andrew shook his head. "Being on time has never been Landon's strong suit."
“Either that or he changed his mind. I talked too much about my ex-boyfriend last night.”
“He didn’t change his mind.” Andrew chuckled and flipped off a few lights. The regulars groaned and got up from their seats. "Bar’s closed. Time to party!" He turned and patted my hand. "Don't worry, I'll wait with you. He'll be here."
The phone rang and Andrew moved down the bar to answer it.
"See you at the top of the hill, miss." My middle-aged admirers nodded as they headed for the parking lot.
I leaned against the bar as if I had grown roots. My only comfort was that I was a total stranger to almost everyone. The snippets I had overheard described the gala as an enormous, flashy event. No one would notice my presence or my absence.
Still no Landon. I started to think about going upstairs and locking the door.
I eyed an uncorked bottle of red wine that stood near the beer tap. I could save myself a lot of embarrassment by liberating that lonely bottle of wine. I imagined taking it to the upstairs apartment and enjoying a quiet, stunning sunset on the widow's walk. I wouldn't have to feel people's eyes on me because of the golden fairy tale dress, and I wouldn't have to feel heart palpitations because my date made my pulse gallop.
"You're not ready, Riley. Simple as that," I whispered to myself. I leaned a little closer to the open bottle of wine.
Andrew's dark eyes caught me as he turned around, gripping the phone hard. "Yeah, she's here. I'm not telling you about the dress."
"Is that Rosalyn?" I called.
He shook his head and turned away. "You're kidding, right? Yeah, I get that she's got you by the short and curlies but come on, man."
I inched down the bar toward Andrew. "That's Landon, isn't it?"
"Why are you telling me this? I'm not the one that needs to hear it. Yeah, I know, but she's going to find out anyway."
My blood iced over. My whole body dragged to a halt. "Oh my god. I get it now. He's married! Landon's married, isn't he? That ‘cousin’ who called him last night…"
Andrew tried to wave me away. "I'm telling you this isn't the way to do it. God, yes. I get it. Your hands are tied. Sure, no. Fine. I'll tell her."
I slapped both my palms on the bar and felt the sting. "Landon's married."
Andrew ran both hands through his thick, black hair and shook his head. "No. Landon is not married. He's just tied up with, ah, work."
"He told me he doesn't have a job. You told me he doesn't have a job!"
"Landon will clear everything up as soon as you see him," Andrew said. He took his tuxedo coat off a hanger hooked on the wine rack. "He's excited to see you, but he can't pick you up. He's sending a car unless you'd rather ride with me and my sister."
I spun on my tall gold heels and headed for the narrow stairs.
"Whoa, wait. Where are you going?" Andrew raced behind the bar to head me off. "Landon's sorry. This is not the way he wanted it, but he didn't stand you up. You're still on for tonight."
"Oh, no we're not. He didn't even ask to talk to me. Who does that? Are we in elementary school? Why didn't he just hand you a note to give me? Sending a driver. Will you wait? Circle ‘yes’ or ‘no.’" I hitched up the golden train and dodged for the staircase.
"He didn't want to explain over the phone," Andrew said. "Riley, please, he just wanted you to know that a car is on the way. He'll be waiting for you at the Golden Bluff Estate, and trust me, I know he'll be there."
"Great. Tell him 'hi' from me when you see him." I pushed past Andrew and trotted up the stairs as fast as my high heels and designer dress would allow.
He was right behind me. "Ride with me and my sister. She wants to meet you."
I shook my head hard, no longer caring if my bun slipped loose. "No, thank you. No offense to your sister. This whole date has 'bad news' written all over it. What was I thinking?" I got to the apartment door and fumbled in my tiny clutch purse for the key. "And here I was feeling bad for comparing him to my ex-boyfriend, but Landon's just like Owen. No job, or his job is some weird, hush-hush, cash-under-the-table thing that even you don't want to talk about. Plus he's too lazy to come pick me up himself!"
"I'm telling you, Riley, Landon is not like that. At least give him a chance to explain in person." Andrew put a hand on the door.
I elbowed him out of the way. "Why would I believe you? You two grew up together. Of course, you're going to stand up for him." I rammed the key into the lock but it wouldn't turn. "Tell your buddy no hard feelings. I'm just not ready to start dating again. This has made that abundantly clear."
Andrew leaned against the wall and let his dark hair cushion his head as he banged it gently. "I really shouldn't be in the middle of this. I never get in the middle of things like this."
I stopped rattling the key. "So why are you getting in the middle of it?"
He lolled his head against the wall to look at me. "You made him smile. Not that on-cue, well-bred smile that I hate, but a real one. He was relaxed. You let him be himself."
"Too bad I didn't know he was a lazy, heartless flirt." I grabbed the key again and cranked it hard.
It broke off in my hand.
There were ten seconds of silence as Andrew and I looked at each other. When I lifted the sliver of key that remained in my hand, his beard twitched. A smile broke through, followed by laughter. I felt a bubble of laughter pop across my lips.
"Can't stay in, you might as well go out," Andrew chuckled. He pushed away from the wall and held out a hand.
"What is it with this town?" I cried. "This place has it out for me! Go get the spare. I know you have another key to this apartment."
Andrew held up both hands as if the tiny chunk of key I held was a loaded gun. "Honest, there isn't one. I had a spare, but I lost it down the men's room toilet. Funny story."
This was unreal.
"Ms. Riley?" a steady voice asked.
I opened my squeezed eyes to see a tall man in a navy blue suit. He tipped a navy blue hat with a shiny black brim off his head to reveal a head of silver hair. When he gave a slight bow, I pulled myself up and straightened my shoulders.
"He doesn't even know my last name," I said.
The driver and Andrew exchanged glances. Andrew shrugged.
"It's Cullen," I snapped. "And you can tell Mr., um, you can tell Mr. Lazy Ass that I'm not coming."
"Mr., ah, my employer asked me to escort you to the estate. My name is James. Pleased to meet you, Ms. Riley."
"I'm sorry, James, but I'm not going," I said. There was nowhere for me to go in the narrow hallway so I just tapped my foot.
"Might I make a suggestion, Ms. Riley?" James asked. I nodded, and he continued, "The gala is a rather large event and there will be no shortage of interesting people to talk to. Almost all are from out of town, and many are from New York."
"Landon told you about me?" I asked.
James smiled. "Of course. Though I don't think he described your beauty well enough. How about we give him another chance to take it in?"
James reminded me of my grandfather, and that alone put me at ease.
"If I stayed in, it would be a waste of a good dress," I said.
"My dear, that dress is better than good —it is divine," James declared. He offered me a hand and I took it.
Andrew heaved a sigh of relief and followed us downstairs. "Don't worry about the door. I'll leave a pair of pliers outside for you later."
* * * * *
James conceded and let me ride in the front passenger seat so when we came around the sharp bend, I had the perfect view. "Wow, Golden Bluff is really beautiful."
Tasteful spotlights illuminated deep green sprays of ivy against white stucco. Red ceramic tiles crowned the steep pitch of the roof. Red bricks in a herringbone pattern lead to the double front door where a wrought-iron chandelier gave a welcoming glow.
"I'm sorry to correct you, Ms. Riley, but that is the gatehouse," James said.
He navigated another sharp switchback and suddenly the row of towering eucalyptus trees gave way to a deep canyon. On the far side, perched on the point of a tall bluff, was a house glowing with golden light. Fifteen times the size of the gatehouse, the estate stood against the starry California sky like a beacon. From mission bell tower to a horseshoe of red-tiled roofs, the mansion was more beautiful, more gigantic than anything I had ever seen.
"Welcome to Golden Bluff. Mr. Michel welcomes you," James said with a smile as he pulled through towering wrought iron gates.
I caught a glimpse of a sunburst motif before we swept into a wide circular driveway, and I saw who was waiting for me.