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he said. “I wish things weren’t different, Clio. But I understand. Maybe there will be someone for me at the party, a girl I can sweep off her feet.” He laughed as if he was joking, but part of me thought he was serious. Maybe he was really ready to love again. I hoped he’d find someone sweet and at the same stage in life as he was.

      I felt lighter now I’d finally spoken up. It was better that he knew I was only interested in him as a friend. “Well, if you’re really interested… your secretary Vanessa seems a little smitten with you.” I’d spoken to Vanessa close to a hundred times that week, and she’d always steered the conversation back to Tim, her voice dreamy.

      “Vanessa? No, I think you’re mistaken. Vanessa doesn’t say more than two words to me. We correspond by email even though her office is attached to mine.” Love! We really made it hard for ourselves. My matchmaker hat flew on…

      “Let’s see what some Gatsby sparkle does,” I laughed, already wondering how I could maneuver them under some mistletoe.

      He laughed. “See you tomorrow, Clio. And thanks again.”

      Once I hung up, I emailed Vanessa. What? So, the matchmaker instinct was strong in me.

       Timothy mentioned how much he’s looking forward to dancing with you at the Gatsby party. I hope you have your dancing shoes at the ready…

      She replied instantly:

       He did?!

      I left it at that. Sometimes the only way forward was when someone gave you a little shove.

      ***

      In the ballroom, Isla’s face was dusted with glitter, and she sneezed before greeting me with a quick wave. “We’re going to be sweeping up gold for the next ten years,” she laughed as she tied a bunch of balloons together and put them by the cocktail bar.

      Scotty ran underfoot, leaving a trail of debris in his wake. To say he was quite enamored with the decorations was an understatement and none of us wanted to begrudge him his fun.

      That was until Scotty munched on one of the feather boas and Micah suggested we put the puppy outside while we finished up.

      Amory’s eyes flashed and she lifted Scotty to her chest. “You… you MONSTER! It’s freezing out and you want me to put a poor defenseless animal outside for the sake of one piddly feather boa?”

      “He’s got a real fur coat,” Micah added unhelpfully. “And a faux-furry jacket to boot.”

      She narrowed her eyes. “You are truly despicable! When you and Isla have your first child I will remember this, and instead of getting a gold locket for their first lock of hair, you’re now getting silver!” She stomped off and it was all I could do not to laugh.

      Micah let out a snort. “What the hell!”

      I shook my head, “Let’s just keep going. I’m sure you’ll convince her to go back to a gold locket soon?” I laughed and we continued decorating.

      On the table we had vases full of feathers, the tips dipped in gold, and glittery candles, and strings of pearls were draped over the back of each chair. The photo booth was set up in the corner with props: moustaches on sticks, feather boas, black and gold cigarette holders and pearl necklaces.

      Micah had convinced Kai to stop the renovations he’d been doing on the chalets to help us decorate and they’d already draped the ceiling in black tulle, which cascaded down elegantly. I’d tried so many times to get his attention lately but he’d been running here and there. Worry gnawed at me – maybe I’d put him in an uncomfortable position by sharing my feelings?

      Snapping myself out of any anxiety, I looked at the rest of the room, trying to get my head back in the game. We’d hung various art deco signs saying things like: Drop it like F Scott, and Prohibition ends here. I was giddy with how great the ballroom looked. It was completely transformed, and you’d never have recognized it from the bridal expo we’d held just over a week ago.

      Sailing back into the kitchen, Cruz had everything under control. I could tell by the way he glided around humming, his chef’s whites pristine, foodie smells scenting the air. “All OK?” I asked.

      “Smashing, dollface.”

      I laughed.

      “I’ll mind my potatoes then!” I trilled in my best attempt at a flapper accent, and sashayed out. We were on track! This party was going to propel guests back to the twenties, and who didn’t want to spend some time in the jazz era?

      We had a few hours until the guests were arriving so I went to find Amory and check she was OK after her spat with poor Micah, who was still confused over how he’d upset her. It was only that Amory had fallen hard for her canine progeny, and her protectiveness for Scotty knew no bounds.

      Taking the steps two at a time, I found Amory talking earnestly to Isla halfway up the stairs about how to apply eyeshadow for the smoky-eye effect.

      “We’re all set, pretty much,” I said.

      “Why don’t we get ready together and I can show Isla how it’s done?” said Amory when I caught up.

      “Let’s! The jazz band is arriving in an hour, and we’ve got to help Aunt Bessie set up too. So let’s get our skates on.”

      I let them go ahead and watched them giggle like schoolgirls as they ran up the rest of the stairs, Scotty going at double speed to catch them on his little legs. I couldn’t wait to transform myself into a flapper.

      After a quick shower, I joined the girls in Amory’s suite.

      “Oh my God, Isla, you look like Clara Bow herself!” She was draped in pearls and had an exotic and intricate feathery headpiece attached, with her hair curled and tucked up. Amory had applied her makeup perfectly – smoky eyes, ruby-red lips.

      “Thanks, Clio! I feel like I’ve dunked my head into wet cement, but the mirror certainly says otherwise.”

      I laughed, remembering Isla rarely wore makeup and was usually more comfortable wearing work clothes than sequined dresses and heels.

      Amory clucked her tongue. “I’m so proud,” she joked, and began getting herself ready, including applying false lashes encrusted with diamantes that made her look every inch a twenties movie starlet.

      An hour and a bit later we sparkled and shimmied as we walked downstairs, in a mixture of sequins, beads and pearls, on a cloud of sultry perfume. They sure knew how to dress to impress back in the jazz era.

      Micah was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and held out a hand to Isla, kissing her sweetly on the cheek and murmuring in her ear. Cruz was still in the kitchen so Amory went to show off her Charleston moves to him there. I was about to head out on my pre-party check, but gasped when I saw Kai standing off to the side, a thumb looped in the pocket of his three-piece suit. The wavy-haired athlete had vanished and been replaced with a suave and sophisticated specimen of a man. Was it hot in here? His blue eyes shone appreciatively as he gave me a slow once-over.

      “It’s clear to me now that you were born in the wrong era, Clio…”

      “Likewise, mister.” We stared into each other’s eyes and I wondered why he’d been avoiding me. I wanted to ask him, but Aunt Bessie walked in, arms laden with boxes. Besides, it smacked of desperation, didn’t it? Better to pretend all was well, and save my pride.

      “There you are, you glamourpuss. Can you take this please?” Aunt Bessie drawled.

      Kai, ever the gentleman, stepped forward. “Here, let me take those.”

      She gave him a saucy eyebrow waggle. “If I was younger…”

      “Aunt Bessie!” I said, faux-shocked. She was a flirt from way back when.

      “What? He looks good enough to eat.”

      Laughter burbled from me. “Let’s

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