Dating Game (19 page)

He had arranged for a dance band afterward, and some of the furniture had been cleared out of the living room to accommodate it. And as Jane and Paris stood by, a truck arrived with a baby grand piano. There was not a single thing he did by half measures.

Bix arrived himself about half an hour later, and he stayed until nearly dinnertime. By the time he left, everything was set up and in perfect order. He had pulled and tugged and tucked and tweaked the flowers himself, and at the last minute he changed one of the silver bowls they were in because he didn't like it. But one thing was certain, the evening would be one that all the guests would remember.

Jane ran home herself then to put a black cocktail dress on, and she was planning to be back before the first guest arrived. She liked to be on hand to be sure that everything went smoothly. With small dinner parties, she usually stayed until the guests sat down, with larger more complicated ones, she stayed until they were dancing after dinner. It made for long workdays and longer evenings. She had told Paris she didn't have to be there that night, but Paris had insisted that she wanted to join her, and see how she coordinated the evening. When caterers were used, she kept an eye on them, and made sure the service was impeccable. She made sure the guests were greeted properly when they arrived, their escort cards were handed to them, the musicians were at their stations, the flowers still looked right, and the valet parkers knew what they were doing with the cars. There was not a single detail overlooked by Bixby Mason or any of his employees. And when press coverage was appropriate, they wrote the releases.

Paris drove home as quickly as she could, and ran a bath, as she pulled a short black dress out of her closet, and let her hair down to brush it. She hadn't stopped since nine o'clock that morning. And this was only the beginning.

She dialed Meg quickly as she foraged for something to eat. She had less than an hour to dress and meet Jane back at the party, before the first guests came. Meg was still at the studio when she answered her cell phone.

“I think I have a job,” she said excitedly, and then told Meg all about Bixby Mason.

“That sounds terrific, Mom. I hope you get it.”

“So do I, sweetheart. I just wanted to tell you, I'm working. This is so exciting!” She told her about what she'd done all day, and then Meg got called back to the set. And Paris called Anne Smythe in Greenwich.

“I found the perfect job, and I'm trying out this week,” she said excitedly when she reached Anne at home. She felt like a kid who had just made the team, or was at least trying out for it. “I love it!”

“I'm proud of you, Paris,” Anne said, beaming on her end. “That was fast work. What did it take you? Three days?” As quickly as she could, Paris told her all about it. “If he has any sense, he'll hire you in a hot minute. Call and tell me.”

“I will,” she promised, and then slipped into the bath and closed her eyes for five minutes. She had really enjoyed what she'd done all day, and one of the things she liked about it was that they could see their concepts and hard work executed and completed. There was a tremendous sense of accomplishment in watching the events unfold. Paris could already see that.

She arrived back at the house on Jackson Street five minutes before Jane did, and they left at precisely ten-thirty, once the guests were dancing. Everything had gone smoothly. And the hosts had been pleasant and welcoming when they met Paris. She looked every bit as elegant as the guests in a simple black cocktail dress. She had been careful to wear something covered up and distinguished. The idea was to blend in, not to draw attention to herself, which she understood completely. Jane thought she was perfect, mature, sensible, capable, hardworking, resourceful. When one of the valet parkers had created a problem with one of the guests, Paris had told the head of the team quietly and firmly to call their base and replace him. She hadn't waited for Jane to give her directions. She'd been busy in the kitchen working out the schedule with the chef, to make sure the soufflés they were having for the first course wouldn't fall before they got the guests to the table. Every piece of the puzzle had to fit, and like a corps de ballet, they all had to move with infinite precision, even more so when they managed enormous weddings. This was just a taste of what the rest was, but Paris had stepped right in and handled it with grace and competence. Jane knew she was exactly what Bixby needed.

“You must be exhausted,” Paris said to her sympathetically as they left the house on Jackson Street. She was nine months pregnant and had been on her feet for fourteen hours. It was not exactly what her doctor recommended, or her husband wanted.

“I told the baby I don't have time for him to be born this week,” Jane said, looking tired as they stopped at her car and she smiled at Paris.

“When's your due date?” Paris asked warmly, she genuinely liked her. Jane gave her all and then some to Bixby. It was definitely time for her to pass the baton, Paris just hoped that Bix would let her take it from her.

“Tomorrow,” Jane said with a rueful smile. “I'm trying to pretend I don't know that. But he does,” she said, rubbing her belly. The baby had been kicking her all night, and she'd been having contractions for two weeks now. They were just practice runs, she knew, but the final performance was coming. “I'll see you in the morning,” she told Paris, as she slid behind the wheel with difficulty, and Paris felt sorry for her. This was no way to put your feet up and wait for a baby. Her schedule would have killed most women who weren't pregnant, and it was easy to see why her husband had insisted she quit and stay home with her baby. She'd done this for six years, and it was time to stop now. For her sake, and the baby's. “You did a great job today,” she told Paris, and then drove off with a wave, as Paris got in her car and drove home to the house on Vallejo. And she realized as she walked in, and set down her handbag, she was exhausted. It had been a long, interesting day, followed by a successful evening. She had been acutely aware during all of it that she was concentrating constantly in order to learn everything she needed to know as quickly as possible. But nothing she had done that day seemed out of the ordinary to her, or impossible to accomplish. She knew that she could do this. And as she stretched out in her bed that night, all she wanted was to land this job as Bixby Mason's assistant. And God willing, if it was meant to be, she would do that.

Chapter 15

The next two days
, as Paris learned the ropes from Jane, were a whirlwind. They had two parties to do on Tuesday night. Bixby spearheaded one of them, the more important of the two, and Jane handled the other, for a slightly less demanding client. One was a remarkable event in an art gallery, which involved a light show and a techno band, and a lot of complicated technical details. The other was a black tie dinner party for old friends of Bixby's. And Paris went back and forth between the two, helping where she could, and learning whatever they could teach her. She had fun at the art gallery, but she enjoyed being with Jane at the black tie dinner party too. Jane wasn't feeling well that night, and halfway through the evening, Paris sent her home and handled the remainder of the dinner party for her. And Jane still looked a little rough the next morning. There was no question, the baby's arrival was coming closer. She was a day past her due date.

“Are you all right?” Paris asked her with a look of concern, as they settled down across the desk from each other in her office.

“I'm just tired. I couldn't sleep last night I had so many contractions. And Paul is mad at me. He said I shouldn't be working. He thinks I'm going to kill the baby.” Paris didn't entirely disagree with him, at least in that she thought Jane should be resting, and not pushing herself as hard as she was, but Jane wanted to give Paris a chance to settle in, and she had promised Bix she'd finish the week, if she didn't have the baby.

“You won't kill the baby, but you might kill yourself, at this rate. Here,” she said, pushing a velvet stool toward her, “put your feet up.”

“Thanks, Paris.” They went over the rest of the files then. And bookings for two more weddings came in that morning. Paris saw how she handled the details, who she made notes to call. It was a very carefully done setup. There was a secretary who came in twice a week to type things up for them, and a bookkeeper who did the billing. But the responsibility for all the rest of it was on Bixby and Jane's shoulders, and hers if he hired her. And Paris knew she was going to really miss this, if he didn't. She was loving every minute of it, and by Thursday afternoon, she felt as though she'd been there forever.

On Friday they handled the last details of the Fleischmann anniversary party. It was their fortieth, and they were having a black tie dinner party for a hundred on Saturday in their home in Hillsborough. It was apparently a palatial estate on a hilltop, and Mrs. Fleischmann said she had looked forward to the event for an entire lifetime. Bixby wanted everything to be perfect for her. She had an unfortunate weakness for pink, and he had convinced her to have a tent made that was so pale, it almost wasn't. And they had flown in the palest of pink tulips from Holland. He had managed to rescue the celebration from bad taste and metamorphose it into something exquisite. Mrs. Fleischmann was planning to wear pink, of course, and her husband had given her a pink diamond ring for the occasion.

When Paris met her on Saturday, she was an adorable little round woman in her late sixties, who looked ten years older. She had three sons, and thirteen grandchildren, all of whom were coming, and it was obvious that she was crazy about Bixby. He had done one of her grandsons' bar mitzvahs the year before, and Jane told Paris they had spent half a million dollars on it.

“Wow!” Paris said, impressed.

“We did one for two million in L.A. a few years ago, for a famous producer. They hired three acts from the circus, and literally had a three-ring circus, and a skating rink for the kids. It was quite something.”

By the time the guests arrived for the Fleischmanns' anniversary party, the Bixby Mason team had everything in full control, as usual. Mrs. Fleischmann was beaming from ear to ear, and her husband looked thrilled with the party Bixby had created for them. And when Oscar Fleischmann led his wife onto the floor for the first dance, a waltz, Paris stood there with tears in her eyes, smiling.

“Cute, aren't they?” Bix whispered to her. “I love her.” He loved most of his clients, which was how he was able to create such magic for them. He had to really care about them to do it. There were those he didn't like, of course, and he did his utmost for them too, but it never had quite the same feeling as it did when he liked them, or had a special fondness for them.

Paris was standing near the buffet, watching the scene, in a simple navy blue silk evening gown, as a man walked over to her, and began chatting. The dress was pretty on her, and she'd worn her hair in a French twist, but she was being careful not to look showy, or wear bright colors when she was working. She tried to blend into the woodwork, the way Bix and Jane did. Bix almost always wore black, like a puppeteer or a mime artist, and he had a quiet elegance about him. Jane was limited to one black cocktail dress these days, and one black evening gown that was straining at the seams. But she'd been in good spirits all day, and seemed to get a second wind halfway through the evening. By then, the baby looked beyond enormous, and the doctor had said he was going to be a ten-pounder. She looked it.

“Nice party, isn't it?” a gray-haired man in a dinner jacket commented, as Paris glanced over her shoulder. He was standing just behind her. And when she turned, she couldn't help noticing that he was very handsome. He looked to be somewhere in his late forties, and seemed very distinguished.

“Yes, it is.” She smiled at him blandly, trying not to pick up the conversation, while still being polite to him. She didn't want to encourage him. She was working. She just didn't look it. She was better looking than most of the guests, most of whom were a great deal older. But the Fleischmanns' sons were there, and a handful of their friends. Paris assumed the man with the gray hair was one of them.

“Fabulous buffet.” There was an entire table devoted to caviar, which had been doing a considerable business. “Do you know the Fleischmanns well?” he asked conversationally, determined to engage her. He had bright blue eyes the color of Peter's, and much as she hated to admit it, he was better looking. He looked lean and athletic and in good shape. And he was so handsome he could have been an actor or male model, but in this crowd, she was sure he wasn't.

“I just met them today,” she said quietly.

“Really?” he said, assuming she was someone's date. He had checked out her left hand for a wedding ring, and there was none. “They're lovely people.” And then, with a smile that was nearly dazzling, he turned to her. “Would you like to dance? My name is Chandler Freeman. I'm a business associate of Oscar Junior's.” He had taken care of the full introduction as she smiled at him, but made no move toward the dance floor.

“I'm Paris Armstrong, and I work for Bixby Mason, who organized this spectacular event. I'm not a guest. I'm working.”

“I see,” he said, not missing a beat, as his smile grew broader. “Well, Cinderella, if you dance with me until the stroke of midnight, I promise to look for you all over the kingdom, until I find the matching glass slipper. Shall we?”

“I don't really think I should,” she said, looking amused but embarrassed. He was very appealing, and very charming.

“I won't tell if you don't. And you look far too beautiful to be standing out here on the sidelines. One dance won't hurt anything, will it?” He already had an arm around her, and without waiting for a response, he was leading her toward the dance floor. And much to her own amazement, she followed. She caught Bix's eye along the way, and he smiled at her and winked, which seemed to suggest he had no problem with it. So she let Chandler Freeman lead her onto the floor and sweep her away. He was an expert dancer, and it was three songs later when he led her to his table. “Would you like to join us?” He was there with several friends, and was in fact sitting with Oscar Fleischmann Jr., who was a handsome man about Paris's age with a very pretty wife, who was covered in diamonds and emeralds. The family had made their fortune in oil in Denver, and then moved to San Francisco. It was Oscar Jr.'s son who had had the bar mitzvah, Jane told her later.