Shannon, the waitress from J&Eâs Banyon Tree, was dressed in a gorgeous dress that looked handmade. Her hair was styled atop her head, so it left her neck bare, but still left strands trickling around her face. She was carrying one of those party masks that had straps around it so she wouldnât have to hold it all night. She put it on just before taking Paulâs arm.
âDonât worry about it,â Vicki said, keeping her voice low. âYouâve moved on.â
If only, I thought. Iâd once thought Paul and I could be an item, but after only one disastrous date, and a few arrests on my part, any relationship we might have had fizzled out.
Yet a part of me still really wanted to give it a shot, even though I was standing beside a good-looking, kind man, who was also a wealthy doctor to boot. I shouldnât be thinking of anyone else, yet I couldnât help myself.
Thankfully, I didnât have to explain anything to Will because just then, someone tapped a glass with a spoon. All eyes turned toward where the elder Mrs. Monroe, Margaret Yarborough, stood, head held high.
âIâd like to take a moment to thank everyone for coming,â she said. Her voice rang out over the crowd as if sheâd been holding a microphone. There were at least fifty people in the room now, and not one of them made a sound. âHoward would have been proud to see all of your faces, knowing what surprises he had in store for you this year.â
She looked suitably sad a moment before breaking out in a wide smile. âAnd while I may not have the flair Howard did, I do hope youâll find your time here to be a most thrilling and terrifying one!â She waited for applause before continuing. âThis house is open to you all. Explore. See the terrors waiting for you. And most of all, have fun.â
Another smattering of applause. Margaret basked in it before tapping her glass again. âNow, before I let you go, there is one more piece of business to take care of.â She turned toward a man who looked about ready to rocket from his shoes. âI give the floor to Quentin Pebbles.â She stepped aside.
The applause this time wasnât nearly as enthusiastic. A few of the guests turned away and started talking amongst themselves as Quentin stepped up to where Margaret had stood. He was wearing a red bow tie and gray suit that made him look like Pee-wee Herman, though I donât think that was the look heâd been going for.
âI, um.â He cleared his throat and adjusted his bow tie. âJessica, if you would.â He motioned to a spot in front of him.
Yet another Marilyn Monroe stepped forward, looking annoyed. She was probably about the same age as the first Monroe Iâd seen, but her dress and jewelry looked to be the real thing. She looked absolutely stunning, and I could tell that her hair was naturally blond, not from a bottle.
âPopular costume,â Vicki commented.
âYeah.â I glanced to the side to see the first Monroe looking down at herself, mortified.
âJessica . . .â Quentin cleared his throat again. âI know weâve had our ups and downs, and believe me, our downs can be pretty low.â
There was a round of chuckling at that, and I noted not all of it was good-natured.
Jessica sniffed and looked away as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes darted from face to face, as if looking for someone to save her.
âI . . .â Quentin was visibly sweating now. He tugged at his collar as if he were being strangled, and then so suddenly it caused a few people to gasp, he dropped to one knee. âJessica Fairweather, will you marry me?â
The room fell silent. Jessicaâs head turned slowly until she was facing Quentin. She didnât even try to disguise the look of horror on her face.
âAre you serious?â she asked, voice high-pitched and nasally. âYou canât be serious.â She