The St James Affair

“There you are, Elaine.” Melanie paddled her hand in the air. “You’re late.”

“Sorry.” Elaine slid into the horseshoe-shaped booth next to Bobbi, who was not just her best friend, but her very best friend. “I had a lot of calls to make from the office.” She felt mildly annoyed at her partners. Just because it was Christmas, they thought they could take time off and neglect important business. They were supposed to know better. Public relations opportunities didn’t disappear just because the calendar declared a holiday. In fact, that was even more reason to get busy.

Larry the elf was dead wrong. The magic of the season wasn’t the spirit of giving. It was that Christmas added an extra media hook to their press releases.

Since it was past noon, she ordered a kir royale, slipped her purse strap off her shoulder and made a conscious effort to smile. Jenny P (her last name was Pinkwater but she’d dropped it long ago) looked perfect and polished in Kajal lipstick, black merino and knee-high suede boots. Melanie Benz, affectionately known as Bitchcakes by her adoring clients, laid out her Day Timer and Palm Pilot on the table. She was chopstick-thin. Her white-blond hair was spiked, her eyebrows pared into arches of perpetual surprise. Bobbi, graced with the looks of a supermodel, was a walking billboard for their clients in a T. Gallagher sweater and leather skirt, Chez Moi makeup and a hairstyle by Iago.

Elaine had handpicked Bobbi, a nobody from a North Carolina mill town looking to break into show business or modeling. Elaine and her partners had other plans. Through the magic of their power over the press, they turned Bobbi into the city’s latest girl-about-town. They gave her the right look, posed her with the right stars and socialites, dropped her name in the right ears. And it had worked. She appeared in all the magazines that mattered—W, Vogue and Quest. Within days, the phone had begun to ring, invitations rolled in. Within weeks, Cosmo was calling to get her take on the best spot-reducing exercise for summer. Bobbi’s launch was a ringing success.

There was an unexpected bonus in Elaine’s project to create a media darling. As bubbly and refreshing as a split of Moёt, Bobbi had become her best friend and confidant, the sister she’d never had. She was someone to share secrets and dreams with, someone to whom Elaine might even dare to admit that breaking up with Byron didn’t actually hurt, but had frightened her by making her doubt her ability to sustain any sort of relationship.

No. She wouldn’t go that far. Even her soul sister would not be privy to that fact.

Tonight Bobbi would play a key part in moving their firm up the food chain. It was going to be her job to beguile the mysterious and ambitious Axel, a hip Swiss parfumier they were trying to lure as a client. Everything important rode on landing this account. Axel would be proof at last to her parents that she was capable of doing something that mattered, of making a life for herself and standing on her own two feet. They’d always believed she was dabbling, their Upper East Side princess, playing at being a publicist to pass the time until she settled down and married someone with the right credentials, someone like Byron Witherspoon.

Now Elaine needed Axel more than ever. Acquiring the business of the Swiss billionaire would lessen the humiliation and soften the betrayal of losing Byron.

“If we manage to sign him, he’ll open the door to major accounts in Europe,” Elaine said as they went over the final details of tonight’s event, known for decades in the society pages as the St. James affair. Each year, as her grandparents had before them, her parents invited everyone who was anyone to their annual Christmas Eve bash. Unlike past years, however, this time they’d allowed Elaine’s firm to handle the planning. She didn’t want to screw up.

“What’s he like?” asked Bobbi. “I’m ninety-seven-percent sure I’ve never done it with a billionaire.”

“He’s perfect.”

“What, you’ve done it with him?” asked Mel.

“Of course not. But Axel and I go way back. Boarding school days, actually. Looks that good should be banned from boarding school. You’ll see.” Elaine felt a surge of ambition. Playing the power matching game and teaching someone else the ropes were what she did best. She never stopped playing or thinking of the next move. It was what kept her going, how she made sense of the world.

Melanie and Jenny put their heads together like a couple of battle commanders, mapping out a seating strategy for the party.

“I guess I’ll find out tonight.” Bobbi lowered her voice. “Um, Elaine … do you think I could get a teeny weeny advance on my check? I’m a little strapped.”

Elaine gritted her teeth. “Your advances are already taking you into the summer,” she said.

“I know, but it’s so expensive to keep up this lifestyle. Everything just piles up. My credit cards are totally maxed out. Tomorrow’s Christmas, Elaine. What do you say, honey?”

She forced her jaw to relax. Honestly, some people had no self-control or work ethic. “Stop by the office in the morning and I’ll write you a check.”

“Actually, I wasn’t planning on coming in tomorrow.”

“It’s our busiest time of year, Bobbi.”

“It’s Christmas.”

“I rest my case. Busy.” Elaine took a gulp of her drink.

“It’s only once a year.” Bobbi’s tone wheedled. “I was hoping to fly home to see my family. My sister Jimmi just had another baby. Oh, Elaine. What could be sweeter than a baby at Christmas?”

“A contract with a Swiss billionaire,” Jenny said.

Melanie ran a shiny-tipped finger down a list in her planner. “By the way, Elaine, your mom’s a peach to work with.”

Elaine forced a smile over the rim of her glass. “Isn’t she just?” In fact, Freddie St. James had given only the most grudging approval to Elaine’s list of suggestions. Despite her skepticism of the edgy menu items and trendy guest list, her appreciation of Elaine’s handling of the press had persuaded her.

To Freddie, the only thing more important than putting on a successful affair was having the papers report that she’d put on a successful affair. Perversely, having this goal in common had brought Elaine closer to her mother than she’d ever been. Now they were merely oceans apart instead of galaxies.

“You look nervous,” Jenny commented, tilting her head to one side to study Elaine. “You’re never nervous. What’s up with that?”

“It’s my parents’ party, for heaven’s sake.”

“So? We do parties all the time. We’re the best in town. People are still talking about the Helpline Foundation fundraiser we did last Thanksgiving in Bridgehampton. What’s really eating you?”

Elaine took a deep breath. She might as well spill. “I hate Christmas. I hate my life. Byron dumped me for a bra model.”

The announcement fell into a collective, stunned silence.

“But you were supposed to marry him,” Jenny said after a horrified pause. “His father practically owns a broadcasting empire. You two were going to be the ultimate media power couple.”

Bobbi leaned in close to give her a hug. Her forgiving nature made Elaine feel small. “Oh, honey,” Bobbi said in her delightful Southern accent, “We’re so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m more annoyed by his timing than anything else.”

“It’s not too late to find another plus-one for tonight.” Mel started a search on her Palm. “It’s Christmas. You can’t be dateless.”

Elaine bit her tongue. The truth was, she didn’t want a date. Or even Christmas, for that matter. She just wanted to make it through the holiday rush and get back to work.

“Tonight will be perfect,” Jenny declared, raising her glass. “Your parents will be blown away, we’ll have Axel eating out of our hands and everyone will live happily ever after.”

Elaine’s smile felt stiff as she lifted her champagne flute to her friends’ highball glasses. “To happily ever after.”

The bright sound of clinking glasses penetrated the din of piped-in music and high-octane conversation. She would get past this, Elaine told herself. Loneliness and yearning were for losers. Tonight would be perfect.

She watched the bubbles in her champagne cocktail. Through the half-empty glass, she spied something—someone—that made her freeze. She forgot to breathe, to move, to think.

Everything receded into a blur of color and sound, everything except him. He came into sharp focus, each detail about him familiar despite the passage of—she counted quickly in her head—seven years. Seven years this very day, in fact.

She felt trapped, yet at the same time helplessly enchanted, as though she were drowning in honey. All the intensity of first love came roaring back at her, possessing her, waking up feelings she had thought long dead.

It was, she discovered, physically impossible to tear her gaze from that broad-shouldered stance and easy smile, that air of assurance and electric sex appeal. Time had only deepened and sharpened the attributes that still sometimes haunted her dreams.

A classic Bob Marley tune filled the air.

“Elaine, what’s the matter?” asked Jenny. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ducking her head to hide the flush in her cheeks, she set down her glass. “The ghost of Christmas past.”

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_a1239ce5-a3f2-5b3c-a938-d00ac3f2a7bc)

“WHOSE PAST?” Jenny demanded.