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“Yikes.”
“Yeah, if my Uncle Charles asks you todance, turn him down,” I warned her grimly.
“Noted.” She slipped on some shoes that didnot look comfortable in the slightest, carefully patted the perfectbun atop her head, and let out a deep breath. “Okay. I guess I’mready for this.”
I was suddenly transported back to all thefear of my first day at college. The first time I’d been among“normal” people. Privileged, Ivy League normal people, yes, butstill, people who knew what APR was because it mattered in theirlives and bank accounts. I remembered being so terrified that Iwould do or say something that would make it impossible to fit in,not with the legacy admissions, but with the crowd I’d wanted toimpress. People who didn’t find games less interesting than golf,or whose knowledge of mythical animals extended beyond their familycrests.
I saw that same fear of not fitting in onCharlotte’s face.
“Hey, come here.” I gestured her over. Whenshe was close enough to take into my arms, I did, mindful ofwrinkling, crumpling, smearing, or snagging her in any way. “Ifanyone gives you even so much as a raised eyebrow in hostilitytonight, you let me know. I’ll buy whatever they value and destroyit.”
“Deal,” she said through giggles.
“Don’t be nervous.” I couldn’t kiss hercheek, because I didn’t want to ruin her makeup. “I don’t careabout these people’s opinions. Neither should you.”
Though, I couldn’t imagine anyone not beingdazzled by Charlotte.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
(Charlotte)
As it turned out, dinner with a huge numberof people was less intimidating than dinner with Matt’s sister andmother. I didn’t have to worry about making a good impression onany of the other guests. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see them again.
They didn’t seem like Matt’s crowd.
Elizabeth’s birthday dinner was held in alarger dining room, this one with circular tables seated accordingto a chart. Luckily, Matt and I were seated together, with Scott,so I didn’t even have to make much conversation with hoity-toitystrangers.
Between the meal and dessert, uniformedwaiters poured glasses of champagne for us, and Elizabeth rose fromher seat. The champagne must have been a signal, because everyonefell quiet and turned their eyes to her.
“I want to thank you all for coming to feteme on this, my thirty-second birthday,” she said, to a rumble ofsubdued laughter. “And I also thank you for your generouscontributions, in lieu of gifts, to the food banks and food sharesacross Connecticut.”
Scott leaned over and whispered, “The foodthese people wasted tonight could have fed the whole state on itsown.”
I covered my derisive snort with my hand.Sure, I wasn’t exactly a philanthropist, but it was a littledifficult to see everyone pat their own backs over their charitywhen I knew for a fact that some of those people had enough moneyto solve world hunger twice over.
For example, your boyfriend. Like ahypocrite, I pushed that thought firmly aside.
I turned my attention back to Elizabeth andher toast. She raised her glass and thanked everyone again, and weall drank and clapped. Then, Matt got to his feet.
“Oh god,” I whispered to Scott. “Is thislike a wedding? Are there going to be a ton of speeches?”
“No, just Elizabeth and Matt,” he reassuredme. “It’s how it goes every year. Brace yourself, he’s going tomake us sing.”
“Like my mother, I thank you all for cominghere to honor her. I think everyone in this room knows exactly howspecial she is, so I won’t belabor that point. But I wouldappreciate it if you would join me in embarrassing her a bit with asong,” he said, and then, to my utter delight, broke into a roundof “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow,” with appropriate pronounchanges. Everyone joined in while Elizabeth blushed and waved ahand in feigned protest.
Apparently, “Happy Birthday” wasn’t fancyenough.
After we drank to the birthday girl’s healthonce more, Matt sat down and said conspiratorially, “The worstsecond of my entire year, annually, is when I start singing thatsong and have to wait for everyone to sing along before I can dropout and mouth the words.”
“Yeah, but this year you got attacked by abear,” I reminded him.
“The singing is still the worst.” He drainedhis champagne.
Dessert came in the form of a giantthree-tiered cake that was presented and quickly sliced forserving, but I noticed many people filtering out of the room.
“After the toasts, dinner is basicallyover,” Scott explained in a low voice. “Some people stick aroundfor cake, some head straight to the ballroom.”
The dancing. I blanched. “I have no idea howto dance.”