Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [36]
At eight-thirty I dangled my small silver purse around my wrist, debating about taking it. I hated carrying purses, but it matched my dress so nicely, I felt obligated as a woman to carry it.
I walked down to the lobby where Brent was reclining in one of the leather chairs, flipping through a magazine from the coffee table, wearing a black suit and a blue shirt.
“You look beautiful,” he said, setting down the magazine.
“You clean up nice yourself.”
I spun for him, letting my sequined violet gown swish around my ankles while teetering in my four-inch heels. Brent stood up and appraised me with a wide appreciative grin that did nothing to help my balance.
“Ready?” He asked walking toward the doors.
I followed mutely behind. Trying to control the nervous bounce house my stomach had become, my fingers reached to fidget with my grandmother’s necklace, but met with only my naked throat. The necklace was still on my dresser since it hadn’t matched my dress, and I felt oddly exposed without it dangling there. Brent noticed my fingers tapping my chest where the necklace should be and his eyebrows raised before he turned to open the glass doors.
He offered his arm, his shoulders stiff. When I took it, his posture relaxed and something flashed briefly in his eyes and was gone before I could interpret it. Together we walked into the chilly moonlit evening.
“Here we go,” I whispered to Brent as we veered off into the restricted zones. He pulled out a flashlight and led me expertly toward the pool, a much wider and more direct route than Cherie and I had taken.
“Done this once or twice, have you?”
He laughed. “Yeah, sneaking out to the pool is like a rite of passage at Pendrell.”
“Good to know I’m fitting in so well.”
When we got to the tree that led to the window, Brent turned around and clasped his hands on my shoulders. “Do you really want to go to this party?”
“Don’t you?” I asked, placing my hands over his.
He dropped his hands and ducked his head. “Truth be told, I’m not that eager to see Steve, and I hate this place. It makes me think of all that curse crap. Why did Cherie have to throw her party here?”
I hadn’t told him the real reason for the location and lied with a smile. “She thought it’d be fun.”
He cracked his knuckles and looked over his shoulder. “I’m not really sure why I came.”
He gave me a wan smile before starting up the tree. I followed, and then crawled through the window, which wasn’t easy in my formal dress. Brent took my hand and we walked together down the corridor that led to the pool.
When we entered the main room I stopped short, utterly transfixed by the way Cherie had fixed it up. She had swept and dusted and picked up the litter, leaving the area amazingly clean. Sandalwood, frankincense, and cinnamon were wafting around the room, and as I inhaled I actually felt myself relax. The soothing music Cherie had picked out was playing from somewhere in the room, adding to the calming atmosphere. I had expected the setup to be chintzy, but it wasn’t; it was beautiful.
The black candelabras with the red candlesticks were placed on tables in the four corners of the pool, giving the room more light than the moon did, and creating an almost romantic feel. She had placed a table with a white lace tablecloth in the middle of the pool. There were three white candles placed in ivory holders engraved with seashells in the center of the table, surrounded by plastic plates and cups, pitchers of water and several trays of food. Six chairs were arranged around the table, all but two of which were occupied. Cherie had found a ladder long enough to get us down and, more importantly, back up. As Brent and I climbed carefully down the ladder, I wished I had worn more practical shoes.
Cherie beamed as she watched me take in the room. “Do you