The Summer of Sunshine and Margot(67)

Margot did her best to relax her expression. Worrying wouldn’t help. They were committed now.

She looked past her client to the guests entering the ballroom for the political fund-raiser. They were all well dressed and moneyed. Tickets had been at a thousand-dollar minimum.

Margot returned her attention to Bianca. “You remember our game plan?”

“Of course. Polite conversation about anything innocuous. Avoid politics, which is totally ridiculous when you consider where we are. I’m to look for people standing alone, preferably women. Five minutes with someone, then move on. If I feel nervous, I will excuse myself and come find you. If I can’t, I’ll head to the bathroom and text you.”

Bianca patted her arm. “Don’t worry. We had a bit of a stumble at the beginning, but we’re working well together now. I’m feeling really good about tonight.”

“You look good.”

Bianca smiled. “Yes, I do, don’t I?”

Bianca was wearing a fairly conservative dark red dress that went to just below her knees. Her hair was loose and curly, her makeup subtle. She looked confident, beautiful and just a little sexy.

Margot linked arms with her. “All right. You’re ready. Let’s go.”

They joined the crowd milling toward the open double doors.

“I hope there aren’t going to be a lot of tech guys here tonight,” Bianca murmured. “I still remember when Steve and I were seeing each other. He was so fun at first, but after a while all he would talk about was Apple, Apple, Apple.”

Margot nearly stumbled. “You don’t mean...Steve Jobs?”

“What? Yes. It was years ago. He was so young, but then so was I.” She flashed a smile, before handing over her ticket to the person at the door.

Margot did the same and they moved into the ballroom. Before she could offer any last-minute advice, she found herself abandoned by her client.

“Good luck,” she said to Bianca’s back. She was about to survey the room and figure out her next move when she spotted Alec, a glass of champagne in each hand.

“Good evening,” he said, handing her one. “You two made it.”

“We did.”

She had driven over with Bianca while Alec had come separately. The plan was that Bianca would leave alone to go stay with Wesley, and Alec would take Margot back to the house.

Margot grabbed his hand and pulled him to a relatively quiet corner of the huge room. “Did you know your mother had an affair with Steve Jobs?”

Alec didn’t look the least bit shocked by the question. “No, but little from her past surprises me.”

“Wasn’t he married?”

“I’m sure the affair was before that. Bianca isn’t into married men.”

“You’re so calm. It’s Steve Jobs!”

“Are you an Apple fan?”

“I love my iPhone, like millions of others. It’s just shocking.”

He chuckled. “She’s been involved with actors and heads of state and race car drivers and you get in a tizzy about Steve Jobs.”

“I have nerd-like qualities. I can’t help it.”

He held out his arm. “Come on. Let’s go lurk in the background and watch my mother. Are you nervous?”

“Terrified and oddly resigned.”

“An unexpected combination.”

They moved through the ballroom. There were several political candidates working the crowd. Margot and Alec avoided them, then finally spotted Bianca near the bar. She was with a middle-aged woman, talking animatedly and laughing. After a few minutes, Bianca spotted them and excused herself.

“I’m doing fine,” she said as she approached. “Stop monitoring me. It’s unnerving.”

“I get paid to watch you,” Margot said, her voice teasing. “I have to do my job.”

“I enjoy standing in the light that is your beauty,” Alec told her.

His mother smiled. “Darling, while I would love to believe that, I’m wondering how much champagne you’ve had.”

“My first glass,” he assured her.

“Then watch and learn.”

Bianca strolled toward a young man standing by himself.

“This will be noteworthy,” Alec murmured. “He’ll be overwhelmed by her in less than thirty seconds. He might faint.”

Margot was about to answer when she spotted a man also watching Bianca—which should be nothing to worry about except he had two cameras hanging around his neck.

“There’s a reporter,” she said, starting toward him.

“It’s a political event,” Alec said, walking with her. “There were bound to be reporters. However, I suspect this one is a photographer hired by the campaign. Please, allow me. I have experience with this sort of thing.”

Alec reached the photographer first. “Good evening. Would you mind not photographing my mother? She’s here as a supporter, not as a public figure.”

The photographer, a tall guy in his midforties, looked more annoyed than accommodating. “She’s the money shot.”

“I’m sure the senator’s staff would be delighted to know that’s your opinion,” Alec said easily. “Shall we go tell them? Or are you not being paid to take pictures of the event for the website and possibly mailers?”