Tonight Nicholas took me to his home. I would have liked to stay longer. Much longer. Like forever.

Elise Dutton’s Diary

Nicholas and I skipped lunch the next Friday because he had too much to do before leaving town. Instead I spent my lunch break with Zoey, who used the time to fix my hair for Nicholas’s partners’ party.

“You better take a lot of pictures tonight,” she said. “I  want to see you in that dress. Do you remember which earrings we picked out?”

“We put them in a Ziploc bag and wrote the date on it with a Sharpie.”

She laughed. “Oh, yeah. No margin for error.”

“I’m a little nervous,” I said. “That first party was so fancy, but I’m afraid this one is going to be more so.”

“Just have fun. You’re going to be great.”

“I just don’t want to embarrass Nicholas in front of his partners.”

“The only problem you’ll have is all their wives will hate  you.”

“Why would they hate me?”

“Because all their husbands will be ogling you.”

I smiled. I was sure Zoey had had more than her share of wife-hate.

“Speaking of ogling,” she said, “have you noticed how Mark looks at you these days?”

The comment caught me off guard. “He’s married.”

“Yes, but he’s not blind.”

“Why would he suddenly notice me?”

“Probably because someone else did,” she replied.

When I got home from work I took a quick shower, then put on the dress—the silk masterpiece Zoey and I had chosen for tonight. I had never worn anything so elegant. It hung from one shoulder, and the beads sewn into the fabric shimmered as I moved. Then I put on the jewelry that we had picked out. The earrings were larger than I was used to, but they matched the elegance of the dress. The heels I’d chosen were also taller than I usually wore, but they made a statement as well. I felt gorgeous.

Nicholas shook his head when he saw me. “Wow,” he said. “Just wow.”

The party was held at the founder’s home on Walker Lane. It was only twenty minutes from my apartment but a world away.

The house was a mansion. Or, more accurately, a villa, since it was Italian in design with rock and stucco exterior, a large, pillared portico, and beautiful wrought-iron front doors. Gas lights highlighted the brick-lined arched portals of the four-car garage. The yard was lit like a resort with lush landscaping and statuary.

Nicholas took my arm, and we walked up to the front door. A man standing in the lit portico opened the door for us. As we stepped inside the foyer we were embraced by a rush of light, smells, and music. The floor was polished wood, covered in places with lush area rugs. A brass chandelier, at least eight feet in diameter, hung above us from the high, domed ceiling.