7. Zoey
7
ZOEY
I pull up outside my boss’s house about half an hour later. It looks more like a mansion than a house, three stories and set back from the road. Fairy lights decorate the trees lining the driveway, and a large Christmas tree sits on the front lawn tastefully decorated in colored lights and gold tinsel.
For a moment, Hugo doesn’t move. He just watches the house.
Then he heaves a big sigh. “Come on. I’d better get it over with.”
“You’re going to speak to him then?”
“As soon as I can get him alone.”
We get out of the car, and he takes my hand as we walk up to the house together. He strides casually, but his hand clasps mine tightly, betraying his nervousness.
There’s the sounds of music and chatter and clinking glasses coming from inside. We mount the stairs, and a butler opens the door. He takes my coat and ushers us through to a large living room.
It’s crammed full of elegantly dressed people, women in floating gowns and men in tuxedos. They hold delicate champagne glasses, chatting and laughing together. The room is decorated in gold fairy lights, and a huge chandelier hangs from the ceiling.
There’s another Christmas tree in the corner that’s so huge it almost reaches the ceiling.
Across the room Mr. Walker’s eyes rest on Hugo, and I see a flicker of relief. Then he smiles and moves across the room toward us.
Hugo drops my hand, and I feel the loss of warmth immediately.
“There you are,” says Mr. Walker, giving Hugo a hearty embrace. He holds him at arm’s length, taking in his appearance. “You couldn’t have had a shave for your old man?”
Before Hugo can answer, Mr. Walker turns to me. “Zoey, I’m glad you’re here. They’ve messed up the damn catering. They’re damned useless. Would you find out what’s going on and sort it out please?”
He turns back to Hugo and lays a hand on his shoulder, leading him into the crowd. Hugo turns to me and gives me a smile. “I’ll catch you later, Zoey.”
Then he’s lead away by his father. They disappear into the crowded room, and I’m left staring after them.
I see his tuxedo clad back as they stop to talk to a middle aged couple. Someone hands him a glass of champagne, the woman says something funny and he laughs, smiling easily at her. The same smile he’s been giving me all day.
A knot forms in my stomach. He fits in here. This is his world where he belongs. I turn away and shuffle through the crowd, finding my way to the kitchen and suddenly remembering my place. I’m Mr. Walker’s assistant, not one of the elegantly dressed guests.
It’s over an hour later, and I’ve been in the kitchen for most of the party. It turns out a bout of flu went around the catering company, and they had a few people call in sick.
I’ve been helping out by piling up plates with canapes and pouring glasses of champagne.
So far I’ve managed to stay in the kitchen, but one of the girls has gone on a break so I offer to take a tray of food around to the guests. After all, I’m dressed in black and white. I fit right in as a waitress.
Just as I come into the main room, Mr. Walker steps onto a small podium that’s been erected under the Christmas tree. He taps his glass, and the chatter slowly fades.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” he says.
Everyone’s gone still and quiet, and I don’t want to push through the crowd while he’s speaking. So I wait at the back of the room.
I’m behind two women who seem to tower over me in their A-line dresses and spiky heels.
Mr. Walker calls Hugo onto the stage, and one of the women in front of me sighs. The other nudges her, and she snickers.
“He looks handsome in that tux,” she whispers to her friend.
“You are so lucky,” the friend whispers back.
They giggle and I try to figure out what they mean, but I’m distracted by what Mr. Walker is saying.
Hugo looks nervous, and I wonder how the talk with his father went.
“I have a special announcement tonight,” says Mr. Walker. “I’ve worked a long time at this business, but it’s time to pass the baton. My son, Hugo, is back for good, and as I’ve long anticipated, he will be taking over the business while I take a step back from some of my duties.”
Confusion sweeps over me. This isn’t what Hugo wants.
Maybe he didn’t get a chance to speak to his dad. But why would he let him make the announcement?
Hugo’s smiling widely, and something occurs to me. Perhaps everything he said to me today was a lie? My stomach clenches at the thought, and I almost drop my tray.
“For a minute there, I thought he was going to announce the engagement,” says the woman in front of me to her friend.
My stomach lurches. Engagement to whom? I lean forward to hear what the women are saying.
“It’s a big secret,” she says. “Don’t tell anyone, will you?”
I’ve heard enough. Hugo was playing with me all along. He’s got a fiancé, and he’s taking over the business. I back out of the room and back to the kitchen to dump my tray.
I grab my coat and am halfway to my car when I hear my name being called. I turn around to see Hugo jogging down the stairs.
“Zoey, don’t leave yet.”
I hug my arms. “I’ve got to go, Hugo.”
“But I haven’t seen you all evening.”
“That’s because I’ve been stuck in the kitchen.” I hate the bitter note to my voice.
He frowns. “I’ll come hang out in the kitchen then.”
He seems so casual, which sums up how he’s been playing with me all day.
“I’m going, Hugo.”
“What are you doing tomorrow? Want to hang out again?”
This guy’s unbelievable. He’s got a fiancée in there. He must think I’m stupid or easy.
“No. I don’t want to hang out tomorrow.”
“How about Sunday? I’ll take you to lunch.”
He’s persistent, I’ll give him that, but I’m not going to change my mind. “No. I don’t want to hang out at all.”
I’m at my car now, and I open the door and get in. But before I can shut it, he puts his hand on the door.
“Hold on. What happened?”
“Northing’s happened. I just don’t want to see you.” It’s just like a privileged spoiled brat to think he can snap his fingers and have any woman. Maybe it’s because I’m a big girl that he thinks I’ll be grateful for the attention. Well, no way. Not this girl.
“But we had such a good day.” His eyes are pleading with mine and they look sincere, but he’s a charmer at heart. He knows all the looks, and I’m not falling for it. I harden my expression.
“Yes, we had a good day. But I’m going now.”
Something like hurt crosses his face, but he takes his hand off the door. I slam it shut and crank up the engine.
As I head down the driveway I watch him in the rearview mirror, hands in his pockets watching me drive away.