Damon extended a hand of reconciliation. Naturally, Monica shook it, careful not to do ittoohard. There was such a delicate balance between upsetting people’s expectations of her submissive nature and frightening away men who didn’t like it when a woman – or anyone – crushed their hands. Which Monica absolutely could do if she put her mind to it.
“One of these days, you’ll call me Damon.” His affable grin usually charmed the frowns off his peers, but Monica rarely reacted to it. “Hope it’s all right if we came. Henry invited us.”
“Of course he did.” Monica cleared her throat. “Of course, you’re more than welcome to the Château. I’m assuming by ‘we’ you mean your wife?”
Damon nodded toward the woman in a sapphire blue cocktail dress placing her clutch on the bartop while waiting for her drink. She had asked for a specific kind of Coke, and thebartender hurriedly checked the stocks before signaling to a server to go into the kitchen to get it.I developed those signals.Now other establishments used them.One day, I’ll write a business memoir, I suppose.Would anybody care?
“Alice really needed to get out of town for a while,” Damon explained. “There are…” He sighed. “A lot of kids crying in our house right now.”
She laughed. “Your growing family is kind to let us borrow your companionship for tonight, Mr. Monroe. I hope you enjoy the entertainment.”
“Mistress Mira and your darling Blair, I believe?”
Monica pursed her lips. “They like the work.”
“Oh, I’m not doubting that. There’s a reason we couldn’t book them for The Dark Hour this weekend. Apparently, someone outbid us.”
Me.To be fair, Blair had owed Monica after accidentally breaking an expensive bottle of wine at Le Salon. The deal she brokered with Blair’s partner, Mira, was simple: a discount on performing at Le Château in return for wiping away the debt. It was either that or garnish it from Blair’s cut at Le Salon for the next few weeks, and neither professional performer wanted that.Bless Mira for being such a miser.The former heiress had a brush with the common life after her family died. She knew, much like Monica often did, what was at stake.
As far as Monica knew, the pair were in another room preparing for their performance. Monica had requested a specific kind and knew that her guests would enjoy it, even those who had seen them perform many times before.
“Another couple will come later, too. From Nevada. We were lucky they could stop by for a performance.”
“You do throw some of the most sophisticated parties, despite the contents.”
“Unlike you, Mr. Monroe, who is a legend for his elegant yet raunchy parties.”
He shrugged in such an easygoing way that Monica barely registered Henry coming up behind her. Not until she had a Manhattan in her hand did she recognize the arm wrapping around her shoulders.
“We owe this man a lot, don’t we, Princess?”
She encircled her arm around his waist and sipped her cocktail. “Quite. The Monroes are always welcome. How thoughtful of you to remember to invite them, Henry.”
“Perhaps we’ll see another legendary performance from you two again?”
Both Henry and Monica looked at him with a quickened breath in their chests. “I’m afraid those days are behind us,” Monica politely said. “A casualty of my daughter getting older. Maybe when she’s off at college.”
“We’ll be quite middle-aged by then.”
“We enthusiastically welcome all types in The Dark Hour, as you know,” Damon said. “Excuse me. My wife is known to get impatient these days.” He paused before heading to the bar. “Three kids do that to you.”
Monica pressed her glass between their chests as she rounded on her husband’s presence. “You invited the Monroes?” she teased.
“I’ve been doing business with them lately. Not in hospitality, I assure you.”
“Sometimes I forget you two are chummy.”
“Trust me, I’m not trading industry secrets. Not unless I have something juicy to share withyou,Princess.”
He offered her a kiss, which she accepted. “Three kids,” she then said with a sigh. “I can’t imagine it.”
“They tried for a long time after Clarise. Some heartbreak there, as I don’t have to tell you. Unfortunately, social media spread that around.”
Don’t remind me of Clarise.Monica wouldn’t hold anything against a child, but the name reminded her of all the troubles Abigail had at school.Because of her. Just her.It went beyond teasing and hair-pulling on the playground. According to the faculty, Abigail had landed a slap a time or two, although Monica’s daughter swore that it was in the name of defending herself.A seven-year-old should know nothing about that.
Yet now was not the time to get into that. Monica had come here to enjoy the weekend with her husband in like-minded company, and the more people who arrived, the more she turned on her laissez-faire hostess persona who knew everything would be fine but still liked to pretend that anything could go wrong at any moment. Except, unlike the usual parties the Château was paid to host by others, Monica was allowed to get tipsy at this one.
Tipsy enough to take off her jacket and show off her arms when the show started later.
