“Where to, ma’am?” Theo asked.
“The nearest hot dog cart,” I said, and we pulled away from the curb.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Valentino ballgownswirled in shades of light blue around my bodice and flowed out into the skirt in indigo and then cobalt and black down to the floor. It was dramatic and elegant. Swishy around my legs and forgiving around my waist.
Suitable for mourning.
Jim’s mother’s black pearls were in my ears and around my neck. My hair, freshly dyed for the event, was blonde again and pulled up on top of my head in a tight bun. I had the particular kind of headache that comes from having your hair pulled back too tight. But it distracted me from my nerves.
The Prince George Ballroom was decorated in Caroline’s traditional cream and gold. The cream roses and pale pink hydrangeas. It was breathtaking the first time I’d seen it and now, years later, it was still breathtaking. The power of classic.
Though there could be an argument that it was enough already with the white roses.
“Poppy!” It was Julie Dunbar coming out of the bathroom I was lingering beside.
“Julie. It’s so good to see you.” We kissed each other’s cheeks with equal fakeness.
“You look marvelous, darling,” she said. “Again, Dean and I are just so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” I said. A waiter went by with flutes of champagne, and I snagged one.A drinking game, I thought. Anytime anyone said they were sorry for my loss, I had to take a drink.
Oh, I thought. This was an excellent coping mechanism.
“He was a great man,” Julie said, taking her own glass.
“Was he?”
“Pardon?”
“He was,” I said and smiled my serene smile. “If you’ll excuse me.” I breezed past her and on the way to the door, three more people told me how sorry they were for my loss, and at the door to the ballroom, I got a new champagne glass.
I made a wide circle around the room, clinging to the outside where the shadows had the best chance of hiding me. But still, I was down another champagne glass by the time I was halfway through the room.
Looking over everyone it struck me, not just because I was a little tipsy. But I was so bored. So terribly bored with the dresses and the conversation. It wasn’t just people being sorry for my loss, it was the conversation about trade deals and Supreme Court nominees. It was the traffic out of the city and where to eat and drink the best whatever-was-popular-now.
Who cares? I wanted to ask them. Are we all so shallow that this was all that mattered in our lives? Wasn’t there more than this?
I can build a shower! Can any of you assholes do that?
“Hello, Princess.”
Like I’d summoned him out of my boredom, there was Ronan.
In a tuxedo and his fallen-angel face.
He isn’t boring.
“Fancy meeting you here,” I said, and his eyebrow kicked up.
“Are you drunk?”
“Let me check,” I said with a sigh and pretended to think it over. “I do believe I am.”
His blue eyes glimmered, but his mouth was set in a frown. My Irishman didn’t approve.
“It’s a drinking game,” I explained. “Every time someone offers theirsincerecondolences, I have a drink. It’s been effective.”