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Grace adjusted her azalea pink Carolina Herrera taffeta gown, doing up the thin patent leather belt around her waist.
‘You look gorgeous,’ said Frank, as he walked out of the dressing room.
‘So do you,’ said Grace, admiring Frank in his Burberry tuxedo.
‘All ready?’
‘Nearly,’ answered Grace, as she put her lipstick into her small black satin clutch.
Grace had moved into Frank’s apartment as soon as she had seen it. Four levels in an art nouveau style apartment with a courtyard; it was Grace’s dream home. Frank’s taste in art was amazing and the walls were filled with new and old pieces that Grace adored.
‘I catalogued that,’ she said, pointing to a David Hockney at the top of the stairs.
Frank pulled her into his arms. ‘I know. I remember the auction.’
‘Why did I never notice you?’ she asked, leaning back into his chest.
‘Because you were always running around with a sheaf of papers and a phone,’ he laughed.
Grace and Frank had settled nicely together in the apartment – and into marriage. Grace had visited Frank’s family in Chicago. They had spent a pleasant few days there after Christmas and Grace was welcomed with open arms, even though her and Frank’s marriage was a surprise.
Back in New York, they were attending Violetta’s charity dinner for the hospital, and then she was planning to finish at Pajaro and start looking at gallery spaces, with Frank’s help. They planned on having a wonderful time, walking the city and looking for new artists to represent.
Grace and Frank walked downstairs to the car he had ordered and soon they were on their way to The Plaza for the night.
Violetta had outdone herself, Grace thought, as she arrived at The Plaza and looked at the room, sparkling in silver and red for the New Year’s Eve dinner. The finest of New York’s society had been invited and all had accepted. Perhaps some had wanted to support the cause but mostly they wanted to get close to the scandal-prone de Santoval family.
News of Leon’s death was reported in all the papers but the de Santoval’s had remained silent, not even releasing a statement mourning their loss. With Grace’s quick wedding to Frank and Birdie’s release from hospital and then her time in rehabilitation, the rumours were rife among the champagne crowd.
Grace arrived as Carlotta and Chris did. Carlotta looked radiant in a green Armani gown and Peruvian gold jewellery that Chris had given her for a Christmas present.
Grace and Carlotta greeted each other warmly and posed for the photographers who stood by the front door. Chris and Frank stood by the girls’ sides, smiling uncomfortably and ignoring the inane questions fired at them from the media.
As they walked inside The Plaza, Violetta greeted them. ‘Have you seen Jeff?’ she asked.
‘Not yet, we’ve just got here,’ said Carlotta, looking around. ‘Where’s the food, I have to eat or I may hurt someone,’ she said to Violetta.
‘She is quite serious by the way,’ said Chris to Grace, who laughed.
Violetta looked around. ‘I can send over a bread basket,’ she said.
‘I’ll take care of it,’ Chris said to Violetta, whose face was white with stress.
‘Jesus Christ, this hostess bullshit is intense,’ she whispered to Grace who laughed out loud.
The guests arrived and Violetta didn’t have time to worry about Jeff. The director of the hospital and his wife were placed to be sitting at Violetta’s table, along with Birdie and Spencer as well as Jeff.
Soon conversation was flowing, as were the drinks but Violetta still hadn’t spotted Jeff. She checked her phone repeatedly but was mindful of not saying anything in front of the TV crew who followed her around.
Guests were seated for dinner and Jeff still was a no show.
‘Have you seen Doctor Carson yet?’ she asked the hospital administrator.
‘No, I haven’t, but he was coming,’ said the man, star-struck by the minor celebrities and socialites.
Violetta held back the desire to snap at him that she already knew that and instead she smiled. ‘Well, I hope everything is OK.’ She rushed to the bathroom to call him.
