Page 37 of He Has Game (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Chapter 9
Vivvie
“I’ve never been to a fashion show. That’s something my mother would go to,” Grace says.
“Good. It’ll be a new, exciting experience for us.” No way was I going to this fashion show without someone in my corner. We run up the stairs of the subway and it’s only a block away.
Sure, Mary is going to be there, but she’s my boss and I know the only interest she has is in the success of the team. If there’s a showdown between her and Sherry Boylston, I’m afraid she might back down.
“Hurry. We’re going to be late.” I tug on Grace’s arm and nearly sprint—in my heels—the rest of the way to the Langham Hotel’s restaurant, BONDin the financial district of course—an unlikely venue for the fashion show, in my opinion. I’m getting too good at running in heels. The minute we get inside the door in the side of the grand building, we slow down and I realize I’m sweating, but I have no time to go to the ladies’ room. We give our names and I get our tickets. Shrugging out of my coat, I realize we don’t have time to check the coats, so we carry them and head up the stairs into the amazing, cavernous, elegant space which may have once been a bank, but is stunning in spite of that.
“Holy mother of—“ Grace says but I cut her off.
“Shh.”
She whispers, “Did you know we’re supposed to be celebrities or gazillionaires to attend this event? Look at those diamonds.”
It looks like there are maybe seventy people in here. Fingering the diamond on my ring finger, I’m too busy looking for our table to look at other people’s jewelry. Besides, I’m enjoying my own. It’s foolish, it really and truly is, but wearing the ring makes me feel close to Finn. Even if the engagement is fake, there’s still somehow a connection between us, like we’re fighting a battle together for a common cause and this ring is the symbol. Of course, I have no plans to mention this to him. Not even if he ask for a penny or a silver dollar for my thoughts, not even if he insists we need to be completely honest.
I was honest the other night about wanting to . . . sleep with him, and look where that got me. “There’s our table.” I nod to our right where Mary stands and waves me over. We’re in the first row next to the stage and I recognize Chelsea O’Rourke and Angela Mackenzie, wives of a couple of guys on the team. Or at least I think they’re wives. Shoot. I’m not even sure, but they greet me warmly and I reintroduce Grace.
Mary shoots me a devious look and I see there’s another woman at the table I don’t know, a middle-aged woman who looks a little too old to be a player’s wife. In fact, she looks about the same age as Sherry Boylston—and of the same ilk. Could she be a friend of Sherry’s? I hope to heck Sherry isn’t sitting with us.
“Hello darlings, this is going to be so much fun,” Sherry Boylston says, coming up behind me and putting a hand on the back of my chair. My belly flips and I steel myself. She pulls a chair up beside me, squeezing it in between me and Mary. No, no, no. The possibility of enjoying the fashion show just disappeared. On the other hand, maybe it’s a chance to convince Sherry that my engagement to Finn is real.
“So good to see you again, Vivian and . . .” She flicks her wrist at Grace.
“Grace Lombardi,” I say. “A very good friend of mine.” Just to make it clear. I may be quiet and well-mannered enough to be mistaken for a Canadian, but I take exception to people being mean to my friends. Like Grace.And Finn.Especially Finn. Sherry’s smile spikes my adrenaline, making me want to fight. Forget about the usual flight reflex, the one I’ve been inclined to, or maybe forced to all my life, because of my heart condition and my overprotective family.
No more. As of my last checkup, my heart is fine and, according to my doctor and Grace I need to start living life, participating fully, feeling alive, using the whole bandwidth of emotions.
Expecting Sherry to take over the table, I’m surprised when the other stunning middle-aged woman stands and leans in.
“Mary, please introduce us.”
“Of course. Caroline Reed, meet Vivian Frost, your son’s fiancée.”
The bottom doesn’t actually fall out of my stomach, but I know exactly where the phrase came from as I fling my hand up to my heart. It pounds without mercy as familiar eyes take me in, assessing me in a cool, collected, and Finnlike way. His gosh darn mother. Then she puts out a hand, reaching over Mary, and her eyes crinkle with a smile I’m pretty sure is genuine, but I admit I’m wary after what Finn told me.
“I’m so glad to meet you, Vivvie. So thrilled you snagged that wild beast of a young man. It’s about time he’s found someone to tame him, maybe teach him some manners. Maybe even teach him to respect his poor mama.” She covers my hand with two of hers and I feel the prayer in her words, the hope in her voice.
“I’m glad to meet you too.” I don’t tell her Finn hasn’t told me much about her, because . . . well that would make us both very uncomfortable. And looking into those eyes, so much like her son’s, I know I need to give her a chance. Give her a clean slate as if I’ve heard nothing about her, so I can find out who she is for myself. There has to be another side to Finn’s story—please dear God—doesn’t there?
“You’re Finn’s mother?” Sherry says, sizing up the woman. “You’re right about him needing to learn some manners, but I’m afraid it’s a lot worse than that.”
“Who the hell are you?” Caroline Reed stands straight and there is no mistaking the defensive hostility flying from her.
It’s as if thunder and lightning clash, the air is so charged with negative energy between the two women. I feel the telltale blip in my chest, signaling the tiny electric shock of the pacemaker to keep my heart rate steady.Not good. I breathe deep and slowly in and out, concentrating on calming thoughts.
“I’m the hostess of this fashion show, and more importantly, I’m the woman your son practically attacked—”
“He did no such thing,” I say automatically, standing.
Mary stands too. “Ladies,” she says. “Whatever happened, it’s water under the bridge.”
“Not so fast.” Caroline looks at Mary and me and then aims daggers at Sherry. “Your accusation is laughable. Because I know my Finn and there’s no way in hell he’d waste a millisecond of time with a hag like you. That’s for damn sure.” She steps away from the table and comes around to me, taking my arm. “Don’t you worry about whatever shit this so-called lady is dishing out. I can assure you none of it’s true.”
“You’re right,” I say. She takes my hands and then lifts my ring hand.
