CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
She saw them as soon as she walked into the room.
They were standing in front of the ballroom’s north wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Boston Common. Heather was dressed—barely and predictably—in something tight and red. Noah was tastefully attired in the stylish modern tuxedo Paige had helped him select for his sister’s wedding last November. Just as Paige had suspected, her cousin was draped all over him, one arm circling his back, the other touching his arm, her head repeatedly grazing his shoulder, her eyes reaching adoringly for his as they chatted with their guests.
Was it her imagination or did he look as uncomfortable as Paige felt, maybe even a little embarrassed? She decided it was probably just wishful thinking on her part and forced herself to turn away before Noah could catch her staring.
There were easily 150 people in the large, beautifully appointed room whose palette was a soft mingling of beige, white, and silver. At least a dozen round tables with white tablecloths and magnificent mauve-and-white floral centerpieces occupied the far half of the room. Smiling waiters with silver trays of hors d’oeuvres floated across the subtly patterned beige carpet, weaving expertly among the guests.
Paige shook her head as one approached with an array of tiny grilled cheese sandwiches. Just one glance at Noah with Heather had sent her stomach into free fall and caused her to lose her appetite.
“I’ll try one,” Sam said, lifting a miniature sandwich off the tray and popping it into his mouth. “Sure you don’t want one? They’re delicious.”
“Not hungry.” Paige felt all eyes in the room shift toward her, as if she’d screamed the words at the top of her lungs.
“You okay?” Sam asked.
She glanced at him, although only briefly. The truth was that she’d barely looked at him since he’d arrived to pick her up. Not that he wasn’t presentable—even handsome—with his newly trimmed hair, dark blue suit, pink shirt, and paisley tie. But he was no Mr. Right Now. No one—certainly not Heather—would look at him and think she’d traded up. And wasn’t that the whole point of bringing a date to the party?I’m the worst person in the world,she thought. “I’m fine,” she told him.
“Have I told you how lovely you look?” he whispered.
“You have. Thank you.”
“You are definitely the most beautiful woman here.”
“Thank you,” she said again, wondering what was the matter with her. Sam was a good man. He looked good, he smelled good, he said all the right things. So why was she so irritated by him? What was her problem?
“Ready to rumble?” he asked, taking another step into the room.
“Do I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice.”
“Paige, darling,” a voice said, making the choice for her.
Paige watched her mother make a beeline for her, long rhinestone earrings bouncing toward the shoulders of her beige silk dress. “Mom! You look gorgeous,” she said, realizing she meant it. Joan Hamilton’s features had been energized by her new haircut, which had knocked at least ten years off her age, emphasizing the cut of her cheekbones and bringing a mischievous sparkle to her deep blue eyes.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Joan looked toward the man at her daughter’s side. “You must be Sam.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hamilton.”
“Please call me Joan.”
“Where are Michael and Deborah?” Paige pretended to search the room for her brother and his wife when she was really checking to see whether Noah was looking.
Joan peered through the roomful of guests. “They were beside me a second ago. Oh, dear. So many people. I had no idea your uncle was so popular.”
Paige felt a renewed surge of annoyance, this time at her uncle. If Ted Hamilton was popular, it was only because of his more outgoing brother. It wasn’t fair that the two men weren’t sharing this evening.
The wrong twin had survived. The wrong twin was celebrating.
“Don’t forget to wish him a happy birthday,” her mother said, as if aware of Paige’s thoughts.
“Of course,” Paige said, absently watching her uncle as he stood with his wife by the far wall, accepting the congratulations of friends and colleagues. She bent forward, as if to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Did Noah say anything to you?” she whispered.
“Just hello,” her mother whispered, pretend-kissing back. “I ignored him. As should you,” she added pointedly.
Paige nodded, leaving her mother and wending her way through the crowd toward her uncle, Sam at her side.