Countdown To A Kiss A New Year's Eve Anthology

Countdown To A Kiss A New Year's Eve Anthology Page 15

On the outskirts of Henderson stood a long and dreary ranch-style house that would only be called a fixer-upper by an optimist. Good thing Brooks Bennett had his share of optimism in spades, because he'd been its proud owner for six months now. Time enough for him to pull down all the wallboard and strip the thing to its studs, opening the kitchen, dining and living room areas to make one big great room. New wallboard was now up, taped, sanded and ready for paint. But all his furniture was crammed into one of the three bedrooms down the hall. The place was clean for a construction site and had a working refrigerator filled with beer--which seemed to be the only requirement for the four men who made do by sitting in three beach chairs and on top of a cooler right in the middle of Brooks's new great room.

"No problem," said Lewis. "Staying with your parents will be a heck of a sight better than this dump. Duncan is welcome to it."

"I appreciate it," Duncan said, popping open a can of beer and handing it over to Brooks before he sat back down on the cooler. "I hate to bust in on this bromance the two of you've got going. I know you don't get to town much these days, Lewis, with all your app inventions and technological leaps and bounds."

Brooks took a sip of beer and then pointed it at Lewis. "You don't know the half of it. He's got something so big in the works right now he's not even telling me about it."

"Not even telling your significant other, Lewis?" Vance Evans goaded. "That's harsh."

"Not as harsh as what the three of you pulled on Annabelle Devine," Lewis said through a laugh. "Explain to me again how a bogus three hundred dollar speeding ticket managed to get Duncan a date with the Keeper of the Debutantes."

"Yeah," Vance said, "because if three hundred dollars was all it took to snag a date with one of the Devine sisters, you would have worked that angle long ago."

"Damn straight," Lewis muttered before taking a swing of beer.

They were a sight, the four of them, Duncan surmised. Him sitting here in his casual business attire and expensive shoes. Vance and Brooks still in their uniforms, stretching their long, lanky, baseball-playing frames out in the beach chairs (clearly they'd done this a time or two)--and Lewis, the one who could buy and sell each of them a dozen times over wearing only a tattered t-shirt and jeans. Didn't anybody dress for the weather around here?

"What have the Devine sisters got against you, Lewis? I heard Annabelle say something about you this afternoon when she was all whipped-up into a frenzy."

"Yeah, what do they have against you?" Brooks teased. He and Vance bumped beer cans and laughed.

"Oh," Duncan apologized. "Sore subject, I see. Sorry I brought it up."

"No," Lewis held up his hand, nodding his head. "It's all right. I feel the wind of change coming, my boys, and tonight is going to be the night."

"The night for what, exactly?" Vance demanded.

"Tonight is the night I'm not only kissing Grace at midnight, I'm also going to tell her exactly how I feel."

The deafening silence that ensued declared Lewis's plan a bad idea.

"For ten years I've been the brunt of their game. And maybe I contributed to it all along," Lewis admitted.

"You think?" Brooks joked.

"But I'm twenty-nine now. I have my own company, a respectable degree of success, and it's time to make a stand. Those girls and I are too old for teenage games, and it's time Miss Gracie Devine put up or shut up. I'm going to make the woman mine...or die trying."

Unwilling to let the poor guy drown in silence again, Duncan spoke up. "Good for you, Lewis." Which encouraged Vance and Brooks to chime in with an "Absolutely" and an "Atta-boy."

"You know, Lewis," said Brooks, "there are other women. Other than the Devine sisters, I mean. While you're all manned-up and throwing your weight around tonight, take a look around you. You might have overlooked a pretty young thing you've been missing out on all these years."

"I've had eyes for Grace for so long, I can't even remember when I didn't."

"I hear you. But you and she don't even live in the same state anymore. And you see each other one time a year, at this party. What kind of relationship are you expecting?"

Lewis tossed his arms out in exasperation. "I just want the girl to kiss me, Brooks. Just one time, I want her to kiss me like she means it. That's my goal for the night. Been my goal all year now. If I manage to achieve that goal, I'll just have to figure out the rest."

Brooks nodded his head. "Fair enough."

"So," Duncan asked, in an effort to get Lewis off the hook as well as to satisfy his own curiosity, "tell me more about this Keeper of the Debutantes. Why do you call Annabelle that?"

"Oh, we don't just call her that," Vance said flinging his hand around to indicate the group.

"Everyone calls her that," Brooks added.

"It's who she is," Lewis explained. "You see, Annabelle has a lot of interests."

"Yeah, like ballroom dancing and etiquette classes," Vance said as he reached into a bag of Cheetos. "Which fork goes with what course-"

"Thank you notes and penmanship-"

"Proper attire, flowers, social teas, and charity events. She takes after her old Great-Aunt Helen in that regard."

Duncan swore he saw them all shudder at the mention of Great-Aunt Helen.

"Don't worry," Brooks said. "She's actually nothing like her great-aunt. She just appreciates all the old-school ways. Back when Tess made her debut in Raleigh, Annabelle--who is five years younger--took great interest and became an expert on what and who our Henderson debs needed to know. She coached the other debutantes from Henderson right along with Tess. And the powers that be in our little town--"

"Meaning the old biddies who give a rat's ass about that kind of stuff," Vance threw in.

"--asked Annabelle to help out the following year. Eventually, it was Annabelle who met with the debutantes' mothers and oversaw all the party-planning, gown-picking and whatever the hell else goes on with all that."

"She was good at it too," Lewis insisted. "I mean, we all clearly hated the re-establishment of cotillion classes. And since we were over the normal age of all that nonsense, they had special classes for us teens back then. But, the debutante parties went from stale to rip-roaring. It's amazing what kind of behavior you can get away with on the dance floor as long as your manners at the dinner table are impeccable."

"And you're dressed appropriately," Vance added.

"And you've flirted with a few of the wallflowers, along with their mothers, sisters and great-aunts," Brooks finished.

"We all learned something when the Keeper of the Debs was created," Lewis went on. "There is not a man in this town who doesn't know how to tie a bow tie, or dress for a five o'clock wedding. Annabelle upgraded the status of Henderson's social elite in the eyes of Raleigh's blue bloods, and at the same time the town became known for their swinging parties."

"Like the one you've wheedled your way into tonight." Brooks smiled at Duncan. "The Devine-Kampmueller New Year's Eve Ball is always kickin' ass and taking names."

"So all these years you all have been holding out on me."

Brooks leaned back and took a long swig of his beer. To Duncan it looked like he was hiding a laugh. "Timing is everything," Brooks finally said. "And I'm thinking the time's just about right."

Those words rang inside Duncan's head when he got his first glimpse of Annabelle that night.

He stood in the cold, outside on the grand porch of Henderson Country Club. He was purposely early. He thought it would be prudent to re-introduce himself to Annabelle without a large crowd around. Given that he was not, actually, Officer Friendly, or an officer at all-and that he'd given her a hard time and a three hundred dollar ticket this afternoon in order to win a bet-her reaction may not be in keeping with the impeccable manners she was known for.

And, feeling the tightness in his chest, he knew he deserved whatever penalty she dished out. He only hoped she didn't have him thrown out of the party before he could coax her into giving Duncan James, attorney at law, a chance.

He swore he saw snowflakes drifting around him as he stared through the side panel windows of the double front doors of the club. The round foyer appeared to be lit in gold, giving warmth to the scene before him. Annabelle Devine took his breath away. Literally. He stood motionless, not sure if he was conjuring up a character from Homer's Odyssey, because the gown Annabelle wore was straight out of Greek lore. Her silhouette displayed a graceful bare shoulder and arm and sheer flowing white fabric cascading to the ground. Her long red hair had been twisted up on her head in a sexy mess he hoped to get a chance to touch. Sooner rather than later.

There was a small crowd in front of Annabelle. Several younger women, all dressed in white ball gowns, stood in various stages of attention, but all were focused on what Annabelle was saying. She was animated, using her hands to direct her proteges. Behind them, proud parents stood, half listening, half talking amongst themselves. Eventually, the girls held their hands out for inspection. Given a nod, they pulled on their elbow-length gloves, except for one. After a brief discussion, Annabelle nodded and the one girl moved to hand her gloves to the coat check attendant behind Annabelle.

When she returned to the group, Annabelle gathered the girls tightly together and whispered for their ears only. To Duncan, it seemed like a football huddle, a secret game plan for the evening being discussed and agreed on. And then, in one happy moment, laughter erupted from all and the group disbanded, moving about in all directions.

Annabelle watched them go. Beaming, he noticed, like a proud momma. "The Keeper of the Debutantes," he whispered. He heard movement behind him and turned to find Brooks Bennett's parents coming up the porch steps.

"Mr. and Mrs. Bennett," Duncan addressed them, reaching out his hand in greeting.

Mr. Bennett took it and shook it sharply. "Well, I'll be. Duncan James. How are you, son?"

"I'm doing fine, Mr. Bennett. Thank you. Mrs. Bennett, you look lovely, as ever." He leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Oh, I always love having you boys around." She tapped his cheek. "Are you here for the party?"

"I am.

"Well, good. You have a place to stay overnight? I don't want you driving back to Raleigh after drinking in here."

"I'm staying out at Brooks's place."

"In that mess?" Mrs. Bennett cried. "You come stay at our house."

"Well, thanks for the invitation, but don't you have Lewis staying there?"

"We do, but we have plenty of room. In fact, I don't know why Brooks insists on staying at his place while it's under construction. He could move right back into his old room and at least be comfortable while he's fixin' that place up."

Duncan smiled at being given the perfect opportunity to set Brooks up. "Sounds like the smart plan to me. I don't know what he's thinking."

"Exactly. So we'll see you both later tonight."

"Come on, woman," Mr. Bennett said, placing a hand under her arm and steering her toward the door. He looked back at Duncan and winked. "If we miss you tonight, be sure to stop by for our Rose Bowl party tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to it."

He stood another moment before following the Bennetts through the door. It was eight o'clock and cars were starting to stream into the circular drive. If Duncan didn't want a crowd when he first spoke to Annabelle, he'd better git-r-done.