Heels, fail me not.
Chapter 17: Rayne
I nervously toyed with the crystal figurines sitting on a table as I waited for Viola. The moment I realized, however, that the little ornaments would probably cost me a month’s income, I stuck my hand in my pocket and went to look out the sliding glass doors leading to the gardens outside. It was already dark. The garden fountains were illuminated with soft light.
“Rayne?” Viola called.
The sound of her voice swept across the room and gripped my faerie heart more strongly than any spell ever had. I turned to see her coming carefully down the stairs, a vision of beauty, like she was wearing the starry sky wrapped around her. More than her gown or anything else, however, it was the look in her eyes that moved me most. There was a glimmer in there I’d never seen before. For the first time, I felt what it was like to be victim to someone else’s sparkle.
She crossed the room and took my hand. After a moment, she laughed. “Well, say something.”
“I…I…stunning.”
She smiled softly. “I suppose that will do. And you,” she said then, gently stroking the lapel of my suit, “you clean up nicely.”
“Don’t tell me you were really expecting flannel and jeans?” I joked.
She smiled once more, the look on her face illuminating the entire room. “Of course not. But I understand you had some help. Looks like I’ll have to thank Cassidy.”
“Wait, I saved the best part,” I said. “In the truck, though. You ready?”
Viola nodded. “Night, Dorothea,” she called to the housekeeper who was standing on the upstairs landing, dabbing her eyes with a hankie.
Taking Viola’s hand in mine, I led her outside. The air was warm for a spring night in Chancellor. The smell of flowers wafted off the garden. In the distance, I could hear the call of frogs. There was magic in the air. I could feel it all around me. If I hadn’t known better, I would have suspected some faerie magic at work. Grinning, I opened the passenger door, leaned inside, and grabbed my top hat and cane, popping the top hat on.
“Madame, your coach,” I said with a bow.
Viola laughed. “How gentlemanly of you, Mr. Darcy,” she replied with a polite nod then got in.
I went around to the other side, slid in, and clicked the engine on. To my great relief, the truck started, and we headed off. I turned the old radio to a classical music station and drove toward Arden Estate. I tried to pretend my nerves weren’t bothering me, but they were. The event tonight would change all our lives: Julie’s and Horatio’s, Alice’s, and, I hoped, mine. I hadn’t felt this awkward in ages. My twinkle always saved me. Along with a few silver-tongued lines and my looks, I never worried about how I’d score with the ladies. But around Viola, I was a mess. I always fancied myself an Oberon, but tonight, I was operating a lot more like Tinker Bell’s awkward second cousin.
Viola’s phone buzzed. “Alice,” she said, flipping through the messages. “She and Luc are there. Julie and Horatio. Told her we’re on our way. Not that she’ll have eyes for anyone but Luc anyway. God, it’s like love at first sight. I thought that only happened in movies,” Viola said wistfully.
Reaching across the seat, I took her hand, lacing her fingers in mine. “Well, that’s not the only way to fall in love.”
Viola squeezed my hand in reply. “Rayne,” she whispered softly. My name had never sounded more beautiful. “Lovely night,” she whispered, gazing out the window.
“Lovely woman,” I replied.
“Oh, shut up,” she said teased.
“I mean it.”
She was silent for a minute then laughed.
“What is it?”
“Horatio is going to kill you.”
I smirked. “No, he isn’t.”
“No?”
“No. I talked to him today.”
“Wait, what? You like, got his blessing?”
I turned to look at her. She had the funniest expression on her face, at once she seemed both pleased and surprised. I lifted her hand and kissed it.
At that, Viola only laughed, but her laughter was joyous and happy, and it made my heart sing.
We arrived at the magnificent Arden Estate just a short drive later. The entire place was lit up. Black limos and all manner of high end cars pulled into the front lot where valets stood waiting.
While my truck raised a few eyebrows, no one said a word. I handed the keys over to the valet and went to the passenger side to meet Viola.
“Jeez, glad I washed her,” I said, shooting a glance back at my old pickup.
Viola laughed out loud. “All this,” she said, waving her hand at the assembled crowd. “Is so…expected. Boring. You stand out,” she said, then reached up and took me by the chin, giving it a little shake.
“I’m nothing compared to you, Miss Hunter. Shall we?” I asked, motioning to the entryway.
As we climbed the stairs, we were treated with the lovely sounds of the orchestra. The music rolled out of the massive building, filling the night with the dulcet tones of the waltz. All around us, gentlemen dressed in fine suits and ladies in beautiful gowns headed inside. It was like all of Chancellor’s old money had come out for the event. Several people called to Viola. Putting on her best wine-heiress smile, she nodded and waved to them.
“No escaping it,” she said quietly with a sigh. “Wherever I go, I’m Blushing Grape Vineyards.”
“No,” I said, stopping. Taking her gently by the waist, I turned her to look out over the cherry orchard that surrounded the estate. In the distance, the dark waves of Lake Erie glimmered in the moonlight. The pink and white cherry blossoms in the orchard, sitting between us and the shoreline, created a magnificent and a gentle canvas. The leaves, reflecting the silver moonlight, danced in the wind. The scent of the cherry blossoms perfumed the air. “You are so much more. All nature bends its eyes just to look at you. See,” I said, and then very discreetly, pulled my little willow wand from my jacket pocket and gave it a wave. The wind blew once more, and this time, it caught the pearl-colored petals. With a soft, fragrant breeze, it marshalled them toward Viola. The wind blew the petals into a gentle torrent around us.
She laughed gently, reaching out to touch the petals, then turned toward me. “What was that?” she asked.
I shrugged. “You see, I was right.”
Viola wrapped her arm around my waist, and we walked up the stairs. Mellow, golden-colored Japanese paper lanterns painted with images of cherry blossoms illuminated our steps. As we reached the top of the staircase, Viola wobbled, then stopped. Pulling aside the skirt of her dress, she examined her shoe.
“Buckle,” she said, then bent down to adjust it. “Dorothea tightened it, but I guess I better be careful.”
“Can I help?”
She shook her head. “There, that will do for now,” she said then reached out to me.
I steadied her as she rose. When she did so, however, a strange expression crossed her face.
“Oh my gosh, my dress. I think I felt something rip.”
“Where?”
“The back, at the zipper.”
Looking behind her, I examined the zipper alongside the intricate embroidery. Sure enough, it was ripped open.
“Is it torn?” she whispered, her voice shaking. “This was my mother’s dress.”
“Just a moment,” I said, and moving deftly, my wand hidden in the sleeve of my coat, I gave it a wave. A tiny sparkle of light slipped up the back of the fabric, mending it. Gently, I checked the work. Perfect. “It’s okay. One of the beads pulled out of place, must have given the fabric a tug. It’s all right now.”