Gala, IV

Bonnie grimaced ruefully. "Would you take a raincheck?"

Marc took a moment to look Trev up and down, and then turned back to Bonnie, debonair again. "Of course. No problem. I'll catch up with you later."

Trev stepped back to allow Bonnie to precede him up the Hall. "Did I put my foot in it again?" he asked, when they were well out of Marc's hearing. "I thought you were giving him the brush off."

She shook her head. "I wasn't making an excuse. I really do have a previous commitment."

"With Baer, I suppose."

"No, with your parents. I promised to find some time to sit with them over dinner, and this seemed the ideal opportunity."

"Oh!" That brought him up short. "Well, okay, then. They're right over this way. Table six."

They found the elder Wyndham-Pryces enjoying a quiet tête-à-tête in splendid isolation. Freya, catching sight of them first, brightened, and, rising, held her arms out to Bonnie. "You didn't forget!"

"Of course not," Bonnie said, breathing in Freya's familiar floral scent as they hugged.

The Senator embraced her in his turn. "My dear, I don't believe I told you, earlier, how very beautiful you look tonight! I realize I must be far from the first…"

She stopped him with a quiet smile. "It means more, coming from you."

Freya patted the seat that had been her husband's, and, the Senator moving over one chair, Bonnie settled between them while Trev sat down on his mother's far side. He cast a pointed look around the deserted table. "Where'd everybody go?"

"Well, let's see." Freya's gaze roved over the vacant chairs. "Vanna and her mother have gone to freshen their lipstick, Mason invited Dana to take a spin with him on the dance floor, and Margot said something about spotting an old friend."

"The Greeleys had dinner at your table?" Bonnie asked, not especially tactful in her surprise. "I wasn't aware you knew them."

"We met them over the summer, Samantha first, and Mason, later. Samantha heard — from Vanna, obviously — that we were struggling a bit to pull the charity fashion show together, and she very generously volunteered to pitch in. I can't tell you what a godsend she's been, Bonnie! That woman's an organizational genius! It's no wonder that Pageant Academy of hers is such a success. With her help, we went from being well-behind schedule to well-ahead. Everything's all set, and we still have two weeks to go! You're planning on being there, aren't you? I know you bought tickets."

"The date's circled in red on my calendar."

There was so much to catch up on, conversation flowed without interruption, and ranged over a wide variety of subjects. Bonnie was congratulated on her work on La Coupe d'amour and encouraged to talk about the ins and outs of the project. When asked, the Senator replied that, after a quiet summer, the re-election campaign was preparing to ramp up again, and that early polls results were favorable. Freya described some overdue remodeling they'd had done at the lake house, and filled Bonnie in, too, on the latest doings of her sisters' families, notable among them Liv's daughter's having presented her with bouncing identical twin grandsons. All the while, the Greeleys and Denholms flitted to and from the table, one or another of them bearing Trev away as often as not. After much cajoling, Mason finally prevailed on Freya to grant him a dance, and, the rest of the company having taken themselves off elsewhere, Bonnie and the Senator found themselves alone.

He regarded her silently a moment, his longstanding affection plain to read in his eyes. "Would it be very gauche of me to say how much we've missed you?"

"Of course not," Bonnie said, quickly. "I've missed you, too. Very much."

He smiled softly, and nodded. "Well, that's all behind us now, thankfully." He reached into his jacket, and, drawing out his handkerchief, dabbed lightly at the perspiration beading his hair line. "Are you warm enough, my dear? They must have opened the windows or doors onto the terrace. There's definitely a new chill in the air."

Despite her bare arms and shoulders, Bonnie was perfectly comfortable and said so. It was only then she noticed the tension around the Senator's mouth and eyes. "Are you sure you feel all right?"

He produced a tired smile for her. "Just winding down, is all. The evening may still be young for you twenty-somethings, but it's getting on toward bedtime for old coots like me. I'm determined to make it through dessert, though. There's something on the menu I've a mind to try: blackberry clafoutis. Ever had it?"

"I have, and it's wonderful," Bonnie assured him; then, remembering his digestive issues, cautioned, "but very rich and heavy."

"I'll go easy, then." He took a sip of water, and, setting his glass back down, said, "There's something else, some very happy news we've kept back, for the simple reason that it's not ours to announce. They want to make a big occasion of it, you see, and, until then, no one outside the immediate family's supposed to know. I have to admit, though, one of my first thoughts, after the worst of the shock had passed, was 'wait til Bonnie hears this!' And now, here you are, and, for the life of me, I can't resist spilling the beans. I can count on you not to give me away, can't I, my dear? Freya will have my head on a platter if she finds out."

Such a mischievous gleam had livened the Senator's eyes that Bonnie would have played along even had her curiosity not been piqued. She traced a cross solemnly over her heart. "Mum's the word."

"Well, then, Bonnie!" His face split into a jaunty grin. "You may congratulate me! I'm to be a father-in-law!"

Her jaw dropped, and all that flashed through her mind was, he did it! In ten short weeks, Trev had found someone else, courted her, proposed to her, and, what was more, introduced her to his parents as his future bride! It must have been love at first sight…

The Senator was chuckling. "I knew you'd be as thunderstruck as I was! I had no notion the two were even serious, let alone talking marriage, and suddenly, here comes Mitch, a fellow — as you know — who never strings more than a few, short words together, asking if he could speak to me privately, and laying out — very cogently, I must say — all the reasons I could safely entrust my only daughter's material and emotional well-being to his care. It was like a scene out of some Victorian drama! All pro forma, of course — Emma'd already said yes — but, as a gesture of respect and consideration, I was as impressed as I was flabbergasted. Apparently, he's worth a pretty penny, did you know? Made a small fortune off some information tech he invented while at MIT."

Bonnie shook her head in wonder, her amazement tickling the Senator no end. "Well," she managed finally, "Still waters, indeed!" It was, in truth, less his revelations about Mitch, and more her own foolish jump to conclusions she marveled at, but, happily, he need never know. Impulsively, she laid her hand on his where it rested on his thigh, and squeezed gently. "Congratulations, Senator, sincerely, on gaining a very fine son-in-law. I hope Mitch and Emma have a long and happy life together."

"Yes." He smiled warmly, and patted her hand. "That's the main thing, isn't it?"

They went on to speak of other matters, principal among them the Senator's disappointment at not finding her grandfather in attendance, and his concern as to what that might mean about the old gentleman's health and general spirits. Bonnie was able to give him a reassuring report, and the Senator had just finished asking that she pass along his best regards when Mason and Freya returned to the table. Eyes bright and cheeks rosy from her exertions, Freya was happy to sink back onto her seat, but Mason was eager for another partner, and, seeing Bonnie at liberty, he begged so charmingly for the favor of her company that, in the end and with her friends' encouragement, she accepted his invitation.

"It's done my heart good to see you," the Senator said, as she kissed him good-bye, and "I'll look for you at the fashion show," Freya said, when it came her turn.

"Yes, I'll see you then." As Mason prepared to escort her away, Bonnie paused to look back over her shoulder, and smile. "Thank you, both, for coming."

The curtain that had previously partitioned the lower Hall off from the upper was, by now, no longer partly open, but fully drawn to the sides, revealing the remarkable transformation the event staff had effected while the gala guests sat blithely enjoying their dinners. To free up room for the band and dancers, the forest glade illusion had been largely dismantled; the greenery once packed among the potted trees had vanished, and the trees themselves, though they remained, had been relegated to the very edges of the space, flush against the walls. The area had been plunged anew into semi-darkness, the only illumination provided by the fairy lights sparkling in the tree branches, and, overhead, the projection of a slowly revolving night sky, its brilliant stars seeming to reflect in their motion the whirl of the dancers circling below.

Bonnie never took to the floor in open-toed sandals without a bit of apprehension, but a mere dozen steps sufficed to convince her that Mason posed no danger to her feet. His lead was, indeed, so deft and easy to follow, she felt moved to remark on it, and he returned the compliment. "It's a rare young lady these days who can foxtrot at all, let alone do it as well as you."

"As to that, the credit belongs to my grandfather. He began teaching me ballroom dances as soon as I could balance reliably on his shoe tops. He was such an gifted dancer, as a college student, he taught in a studio to help pay his expenses, and, later, he and my grandmother investigated a murder working undercover as a dance team vying for a spot on one of those TV competition shows."

Mason's brows rode up his forehead. "And they pulled it off without raising any suspicions?"

Bonnie smiled inwardly, remembering her grandfather's version of events. "It was touch and go, but they succeeded; apparently, no thanks to my grandmother!"

Mason would gladly have partnered her in another dance, but the music had no sooner ended than Marc turned up to cash in his raincheck, and after him, M. Benoît, the French Cultural Attaché, was waiting to solicit her hand. As the Frenchman waltzed her around the floor, Bonnie saw that Bear was doing his duty by the Jeff and dancing with Mme Benoît just as, earlier, he'd danced with Geneva, and a woman who might have been the imperious Mrs. Smythe. She saw as well, to her surprise, that Bear was actually very light on his feet, not a Fred Astaire like Mason, certainly, but a very desirable partner all the same. Madame clearly seemed to think so, given the delight on her upturned face.

Whether by luck or calculation, the last turn of the waltz brought Bonnie and M. Benoît within a few steps of where Bear and the gentleman's wife were finishing their dance. They crossed the short distance over to them, and joined with the rest of the crowd in politely applauding the band. The singer, a suave, velvet-voiced baritone, inclined his head in acknowledgement, and, speaking into the mic again, announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, I've been asked to pass on the glad tidings that dessert is now being served in the dining room. Also, for those of you, like myself, with a weakness for macarons and cream puffs, there's a wide array of patisseries and other refreshments awaiting your selection in the tent at the bottom of the terrace stairs. Please help yourselves. In the meantime, we'll be here, continuing to play for your listening and dancing pleasure. Thank you."

M. and Mme Benoît excused themselves, and, along with many others, headed off toward the dining room while a smaller number made for the far corner of the Hall where, as the Senator had suspected, a door stood open onto the mild September night. As before, Bear hung back, giving the guests precedence, and, as a matter of course, Bonnie remained with him, happy, for her part, not to leave the floor where, as long as they stayed put, there was always the chance, however infinitesimal, that Bear might ask her to dance. The band, for some reason, failing to launch immediately into their next number, she volunteered, to fill the silence, "I couldn't help but notice you dance very well."

Bear's lips twitched in amusement. "Naturally, you assumed I'd have two left feet."

She couldn't deny it. "It's nothing personal. It's just been my experience that most men can't do much more than sway in time to the music."

"My grandmother made me learn," he admitted, echoing, only in reverse, her own words to Mason. "She insisted that knowing how to dance would be to my advantage in the long run, a valuable 'string to my bow,' as she liked to say. I can't tell you how much I hated those lessons and the practicing, but my grandmother kept at me, and, in the end — I have to hand it to her — she was right." He smiled wryly. "A habit of hers, being right. Very annoying."

Bonnie laughed. "I can imagine!" She had no trouble recognizing in Bear's bossy, opinionated grandmother the autocratic Estelle Baer who'd tormented Rosa, but, in regards to her grandson, at least, it appeared the woman had been a kinder, gentler sort of tyrant. The proof lay not so much in what Bear had said about her as in his dryly affectionate tone of voice. However strict his grandmother had been in raising him, he seemed to feel only gratitude toward her, as if he appreciated she'd only ever been tough on him for his own good. Knowing Rosa's story, Bonnie'd been troubled for weeks by the question of whether Bear's relationship with his grandmother had been happy, and here, like an unexpected gift, she'd been given the answer: yes. Bear had loved his grandmother, and been secure, as well, in her love for him. Estelle Baer hadn't, after all, been a monster through and through.

A few bars of dreamy melody broke into these thoughts, recalling her attention to the band and, particularly, to the singer who, over the piano playing softly in the background, introduced the next tune as going out, by request, to an especially lovely lady. "No name given, but, whoever you are — and from where I'm standing, ladies, it could be any one of you — here's to you for being so captivating… Just the way you look, tonight."

He picked up his cue, and swung smoothly into the song, his voice pleasantly low and foggy. The partners who'd lingered on the floor lost no time in stepping into each other's arms, and a few couples were seduced off the sidelines by the ballad's sultry rhythm. Bear looked at Bonnie, and she at him, an unspoken "Shall we…?" all but vibrating in the air between them, and then, they'd left it too late. Vanna was hurrying toward them, all smiles, with Trev trailing just behind her. "Oh, good!" she said. "I was afraid we wouldn't catch you in time!"

Bonnie found a welcoming smile for her, though it took some effort. "Time for what, Van?"

"Well, for the dance, of course, silly! Don't tell me you haven't figured out who requested that song!"

Bonnie's eyes flew to Trev. "You did?"

"Who else?" Vanna said, as Trev, looking somewhat self-conscious, tried for a nonchalant shrug. "So, go on now, you two! Shake a leg! I'll be fine," she went on, when they didn't jump to obey her. "There's bound to be some tall, dark gentleman nearby who'll take pity on a girl standing around all on her lonesome."

She followed this up with such a saucy look in Bear's direction, he was hard put to suppress a smile. "Would you care to dance, Vanna?"

"Why, thank you, sir!" she said, laying the Southern charm on super-thick. "I do believe I would!"

She took the arm Bear offered, and, with a parting wink over her shoulder, moved off with him onto the floor. "That was decent of him," Trev allowed, as, Bonnie taking his hand, he drew her carefully into the flow of the dance.

"Easy, there! It's grudging respect tonight, and, next thing you know, you'll find yourself actually liking him."

Trev snorted. "Fat chance of that."

He guided her out of the path of an oncoming couple, his lead so adroit and familiar Bonnie followed without thinking. "Did you really ask the band to play this song? I'd've bet good money you'd didn't know it."

"I've seen a few rom coms in my life. Been to my share of weddings, too."

"That explains it, then. Still, the grand romantic gesture isn't usually your style."

"Yeah, well, what with being, very possibly, the only guy here not to tell you yet how gorgeous you look, I figured it was either go big or go home." He released her into a slow turn, twirling her away from him and back again. "I get that I probably shouldn't've come tonight but, seeing you like this, more beautiful, somehow, than you've ever looked before, honestly, I can't bring myself to be sorry. There'll be pictures in tomorrow's social media, sure, but they won't come anywhere close to doing you justice. It's not the dress — though it's incredible, don't get me wrong! — or the way you've done your hair or make-up. It's you. You're… radiant."

Bonnie felt herself color up. "I think the word you want is 'glowing,'" she said, lightly. "They really should open another window or two."

"It's not the heat," he began, only to break off suddenly, his eyes rounding with inspiration. "I've got it! How 'bout we finish this dance out under the real stars? It'll be cooler on the terrace, and, after, we can have our dessert together, al fresco. I've heard credible reports of babas au rhum and opera cake."

"Oh! No fair using my favorite sweets against me! How's a girl supposed to say no?"

"Is that a yes, then?" He waited for her answer, and, when she wavered, her eyes straying over the other dancers for a glimpse of Bear, he reminded her, "You did say there'd be time to talk."

She caught sight of Bear, then, head politely inclined toward Vanna, intent, to all appearances, on whatever it was she was saying. It came to her all at once, as of something obvious in itself, that Vanna, in an effort to be helpful, had set herself to keeping Bear occupied and unconcerned, for a time, with where and with whom his colleague might have wandered off to. Trev, following her gaze, said, as if in confirmation, "He won't miss you for a while. So… will you come?"

"All right," she nodded. "Yes."