66. Gala, II
Inevitably, as a function of their duties for the evening, Bonnie and Bear were obliged to separate. She had, indeed, only just introduced Bear to her younger uncle and aunt Booth when he was summoned away to entertain Mrs. Evelyn Smythe, a wealthy old Tartar known among Institute insiders as much for her arrogance as her largesse. "Poor bugger," Hank said, looking after him sympathetically. "Still, goes with the territory, doesn't it? Got to keep the money-bags sweet, and those funding dollars rolling in. Mom and your Grandpa Jack had to do it, too, back in their day. They really hated that aspect of their jobs, let me tell you."
Bonnie expected at any moment to be called on in her turn to make nice with a major donor or two, but, in the event, she was left to mix with the guests as she pleased and without interference, possibly because she was, at intervals, already in the company of VIPs on a par with any Dr. Cummings might have produced. These luminaries were, for the most part, old friends and former colleagues of her grandparents: celebrated artist, Roxie Lyon; bestselling author and retired Head of the Institute's Forensic Division, Clark Edison; Senator and Mrs. James Aubrey of Virginia, and, Bonnie's personal favorite, prominent entrepreneur and her honorary great-uncle, "Opie" Abernathy. Renowned philanthropist Agnes Simon, remembering Bonnie from their having been guests together at Rosa's post-show dinner, also stopped for a short chat ("I've yet to get to the bottom of that Dolphin mystery. You?"), as did the art critic she'd met on that same occasion. He earned the distinction of being the only person all evening to seek her out for no other purpose than to discuss La Coupe d'amour.
Given that she was almost constantly engaged by some combination of friends and family, there was nothing at all remarkable about the conversations' skewing decidedly personal, but, as it happened, even the strangers who approached her showed little-to-no interest in Lebrun and his masterpiece. A few men — Eddie would've been disappointed to note exactly how few — tried to strike up a flirtation, but she discouraged them politely, and they were too well-mannered to persist. As for the women, they sought her out not to talk about art, but to compliment her on her dress and to examine it more closely. Margot and Dana Denholm, who prided themselves on keeping abreast of all the latest fashion trends, were particularly obsessed with it, and pressed her for so many details regarding its design and construction, that Bonnie soon tired of the subject. It was, consequently, with as much relief as delight that she saw Trenton and Freya Wyndham-Pryce come up beside their nieces. To her disappointment, however, they wouldn't hear of interrupting for long. "No, no, my dear," the Senator said, the affectionate smile she knew so well softening his features. "We won't intrude. We just stopped to say hello, and to ask you to promise — faithfully, now! — to sit with us over dinner, or, at least a goodly portion of it, if you can't manage the whole."
"Please say you will." Freya's smile, like her husband's, was warm and inviting, but not, Bonnie saw with regret, entirely easy. "It's been ages."
"Of course." Bonnie could no more have refused them than her own family. "I'll look for you, later, in the dining room."
"Wonderful!" Freya slipped her arm through the Senator's and propelled him gently into motion. "We'll save you a seat. You, too, girls."
Bonnie, in no hurry to resume talking of fabrics and finishings, watched them move off and be gathered a few steps further on into a group of their friends. She turned back with a stifled sigh, and found the sisters sharing a long look, all raised brows and wondering eyes. "What?" she asked, unwisely, she realized an instant later, it having occurred to her, too late, that they were probably amazed, under the circumstances, that their aunt and uncle's fondness for her hadn't changed.
"We didn't expect to see them here tonight, is all," Margot said.
Bonnie might have taken this as confirmation of her suspicion had Dana not gone on to add, "Yeah, they've been real homebodies all summer, spending most of their time up at the lake. All those fundraising and campaign events in the Spring really ran them off their feet. They've steered completely away from the social whirl for the last few weeks."
Margot nodded. "The whole month of August, all they did was a little fishing, and some leisurely cruising out on the lake. Can you imagine? I'd've gone nuts inside a week. Still, it looks like the R & R did them good." She turned to consult her sister. "Don't you think?"
"Definitely. Aunt Freya, anyway. I didn't really get a good look at Uncle Trenton. The light's so bad in here."
"True." Margot cast a considering look about her. "It's not so dark now, though, as when we first got here. Either that, or my eyes have finally adjusted."
"No, you're right," Bonnie said, with some surprise. "It really is brighter." She turned her face up to the night-sky projection and saw that the moon was no longer riding so high, nor were the stars so bright. The black sky had taken on color, too, a purplish blue around the setting moon on one edge fading across the great vault of ceiling to a rosy mauve on the other. "I think it's meant to suggest that dawn's approaching…"
"And the cocktail hour's about to end," Dana surmised, her eyes scanning the heavens appreciatively. "Clever."
They suddenly discovered an imperative need to replenish their drinks and, with no more than a parting reminder to send them Emily Kreb's complete contact information, headed off to top up their champagne coupes. With their departure, Bonnie had her first breather of the evening, and took advantage to steal a quick look about for Bear. For all she'd genuinely enjoyed reconnecting with her grandparents' old friends and catching up with her own, she was guiltily conscious of not having afforded any one of them her undivided attention. A small but stubborn part of her mind had been constantly wandering, distracted by thoughts of the kiss she and Bear had come so close to sharing and by the unsettling awareness of his presence somewhere in the Hall. Much as she'd tried to concentrate, she hadn't always been able to keep her eyes from straying over the crowd in search of him, especially as she'd been fortunate enough to pick him out of the semi-darkness several times. Once, she'd only just missed meeting his gaze, or such had been her impression, anyway. In the moment, she'd hadn't known whether to be more disappointed or relieved.
Though she had little expectation of finding him still there, she glanced, first, toward the spot, several feet away, where she'd last seen Bear in the company of Dr. Cummings, an elegant woman of a certain age, and her much younger escort, but, of that congenial foursome, there was no longer any sign. Dr. Cummings had remained in the general area and was lavishing his particular brand of charm on another duo, but Bear had, evidently, moved on. She wasn't immediately discouraged, and, though it required a certain amount of undignified neck-craning and rising up on tip-toes, she executed these moves so discretely, she felt sure no one would be the wiser as to what she was about. But there, she was wrong as there came a light touch on her elbow, and a laughing voice in her ear teased, "Here I am! You can stop looking, now."
Bonnie spun to her right, and found Vanna smiling broadly at her, very pleased with her little joke. She must not have hidden her surprise at all well for Vanna continued gaily, "No, don't burst my bubble, and tell me you were looking for someone else! Let me have my little fantasy."
Bonnie smiled ruefully, and, taking Vanna's free hand, gave it a squeeze, and then, for good measure, kissed her cheek. "I have been wondering where you'd gotten to," she said, with perfect honesty. "Have your ears been burning? I've been giving you credit all evening as co-designer of this dress."
"Have you, really? That's super generous of you, considering all I ever did was cheer you on when you were having second thoughts. I told you — didn't I? — that you'd be the belle of the ball, and I was a hundred percent right. You're an absolute sensation! All anyone can talk about is how stunning you look!"
"I sincerely doubt that. Especially when you look so lovely, yourself." Vanna had chosen a fitted sheath of such utter simplicity, it might have been deemed plain or even prim but for its vivid blue color and a daring side slit that allowed a tantalizing glimpse of long, shapely leg. The gown's portrait neckline showcased the beautiful curves of her bare shoulders, and offered a hint of cleavage into the bargain. For an added touch of sophistication, she'd pulled her blonde hair up and back into a sleek French twist, and wore, for her only jewelry, sapphire drop earrings, the same color as her eyes. "You're chic as can be, head to toe."
"Well, aren't you sweet to say so!" Vanna ran a smoothing hand over the heavy silk satin of her skirt. "I was really of two minds about this dress. I'm usually the glitz-and-glamor type, all crystals and rhinestones, but I thought, tonight, I'd try something understated for a change. You know, more classy than flashy."
Bonnie nodded her approval. "You hit it out of the park, then. As my grandfather would say, you look like a million bucks!"
They went on to share their impressions of the gala — the fabulous decor, first-class refreshments, distinguished guests — and were joined before long by a beaming couple whom Vanna introduced as her parents, Mason and Sam. If Bonnie hadn't already met Charlie and Gus, she might easily have mistaken Mrs. Greeley for Vanna's elder sister, while Mr. Greeley with his bald head and slight paunch looked to have a daughter, or a trophy wife, on his arm. Whatever he lacked in physical presence, he more than made up for in personality, however, and it was soon evident from which of her parents Vanna had inherited her winning ways. As Andrea happened to be circulating in their vicinity, he beckoned the photog over so, he explained, he could have his picture taken with the "three most gorgeous gals in the room." Shortly after, he led his wife away, leaving the field open, as he put it, for Vanna and Bonnie's other admirers. "There's a fellow over that way," he said, with a roguish tip of the head, "been looking over here these last ten minutes, waiting for me to clear out."
Bonnie resisted the natural impulse to glance in the direction he'd indicated but Vanna didn't share her scruples, and avidly scanned the knots of people just beyond Bonnie's shoulder. "I don't see anyone... Unless... No," she said, with a nonchalant shrug, and then, on a suddenly brighter note, "Oh! Bonnie, over there, with that tall, silver-haired gentleman. Isn't that your foxy Dr. Baer?"
She swung to follow Vanna's gaze, and there he was, indeed, in conversation with a man she recognized on the strength of having attended one of his lectures as Dr. Piers Vanderhoven, Chief Curator at the nearby and prestigious Winterbourne Museum. Bear was listening respectfully, brow creased thoughtfully, oblivious, Bonnie would have said, to his surroundings, but then, almost as if he felt the weight of her gaze upon him, he raised his eyes her way, and, finding her looking back, relaxed into a smile of such quiet pleasure that Bonnie's fool heart skipped a beat, and the next thing she knew, she was smiling and coloring up all at the same time, happy and confused together. His eyes shone a moment with wry laughter, at her expense, assuredly, but also in part, she understood, at his own, and it was then, in that fraction of a second of shared humor at their mutual foolishness, that Bonnie knew, as certainty as if the great psychic Avalon Harmonia herself had foretold it, that for her and Bear, everything was going to work out right in the end. It would not be all smooth sailing, of course; there would be setbacks ahead, misunderstandings, disappointments, and various rough spots to negotiate, but, with time and loving patience, they would make it through to their happily-ever-after. She was suddenly, unshakably sure.
"Oh, look!" Bonnie had so far forgotten Vanna's presence that she started at her excited cry. "They're shaking hands, and going their separate ways! Now's the time, wouldn't you say, Bonnie? You did promise to introduce me, remember."
"So I did." And she could admit to herself, now that her heart was easy, that she'd been glad of any excuse not to make her beautiful friend known to Bear. "And you've waited far too long already. Come on, then. Let's get you two acquainted."
As she approached, Bear smiled steadily into Bonnie's eyes, his focus so entirely on her, he seemed disconcerted to see Vanna suddenly pop up, prompt and perky, before him. He flashed Bonnie a sidelong, quizzical look, but lent himself politely to the introduction, and even made something of an effort to be agreeable, which proved more than enough encouragement for Vanna. She turned her charm and vivacity up high, and, in that mode, no one, not even a man of Bear's considerable reserve, stood a chance of resisting her altogether. Before long, she'd managed to coax him into lowering his guard a bit and joining her in a light, amusing conversation. Bonnie, watching her sparkle and beguile, marveled at her address without, happily, feeling threatened by it as she might have done only an hour earlier. She rejoiced, rather, that these two people whom she very much wanted in her life had taken a liking to each other, and might, given the chance, become firm friends in time. She so hoped they would...
A rumbling, as of distant thunder, broke into these reflections, and Vanna, partway through a half-joking demonstration of the similarities between public relations and art conservation, stopped in mid-sentence to ask, "Do you feel that?" The floor boards were vibrating, faintly but noticeably, and others in their area were, variously, looking down at their feet, or around them for the source of the commotion. A buzz of excitement went up, as, on the edge of the cleared space closest to the room divider, the crowns of several trees could be seen quaking as they were rolled back from the enclosure, and arranged in two parallel rows which served to mark both a new opening and a passageway leading out. There came additional sounds of scraping, rustling and scampering as the rest of the shrubs and plants was whisked into new positions, and then, with a slowness that was nothing short of dramatic, the overlapping velour drapes curtaining off the greater part of the Hall were drawn up and to the side, revealing some of the candle-bright, greenery-hung dining room beyond. A collective sigh of appreciation soughed through the crowd, and, as one, people began to trend toward the exit, their progress halting due to the narrowness of the passage but orderly and courteous all the same. By tacit agreement, Bear and Bonnie hung back, letting the gala guests precede them, and Vanna remained behind as well, taking advantage of the necessary wait to return to her argument.
Bonnie half-listened, her attention diverted by the spectacle of the slow, fluid exodus from the room. She was put in mind of a peaceful river, flowing calmly, inexorably toward the sea, and it was, no doubt, as a contrast to this constant stream of motion that the still and solitary figure first caught her eye. He was standing, arms crossed negligently over his chest facing in her direction, a tall, tan, roughly-shaven individual with a headful of sun-bleached locks that could have used a serious trim. Grooming aside, she was obliged to give him full marks for his tailoring; his royal blue tuxedo jacket was a bold choice and not a style many men could pull off, as she'd once pointed out to... Her hand flew up involuntarily to cover her gasp of surprise, and, across the room, a wide, wicked grin split the bearded man's face.
"Trev!"