The Height Of Happiness

            “I’ve been trying to get your attention all day,” he said instead of greeting her.

            “Good evening to you too, Mr. Summerfields.”

            “I hope we’re not getting more formal with each other.”

            Serena sighed, centering herself before looking at him. As their eyes met, her muscles relaxed and her body remembered just why she’d been so taken with him in the first place. In the soft light of the party, he looked as handsome as ever, and her dreams hadn’t done him justice. With the shock and horror of his arrival no longer blinding her, Serena could see his spring green eyes once more. She was still obsessed with them.

            It didn’t help that his burgundy suit made him look like a model, or that his suave movements as he sipped the glass of sparkling wine in his hand made everything about him look oh so gentlemanly. It took Serena right back to that night in New York City.

            “No, I’m just on autopilot right now… Edward.”

            It took a moment for Serena to decide on what to call him. “Teddy” didn’t seem entirely fitting anymore. He seemed like a different person there versus at the Manhattan hotel.

            “I understand. You have been a very busy woman. I’m tired from just trying to catch your eye all day.”

            “Catch my eye?”

            “Yes,” Edward said sipping his wine again. “I thought you might like to know I’m staying the whole week. Have I told you?”

            “I don’t think you have.”

            Regardless, Serena already knew. She’d seen the booking. She was sure to keep watch over every aspect of her empire, and the reservations of the best suites on the property were no exception. Still, she didn’t want to show all of her cards to him just yet.

            “Also, I wanted to apologize. I hope you won’t make me say for what.”

            “We both know,” Serena confirmed. “And I accept your apology. I know you aren’t terrible enough to trick me, and the conversation I overheard was just… in poor taste. I would like to think you’re better than that.”

            “I am,” Edward replied with a smile. “And there’s someone else who would like to say a few words as well.”

            Turning, he caught the eye of his companion. Patrick tried to be neutral, but Serena could still see that he was slinking over like a guilty puppy. He finished the water in his glass, and then he took a brief second to gather his words before speaking.

            Looking at her directly, Patrick cleared his throat, “I know you heard me speaking about you in a poor light, and I want to say… sorry. In all fairness, I blame your wine a bit because it had me very drunk very quickly. I was still a little intoxicated when I woke up this morning.”

            Serena nodded, “I forgive you.”

            Edward patted his friend on the shoulder. “He really is much smarter than that. He was the one who got me to interested in wines coming from this region.”

            Patrick sipped his wine as said, “Well, I have some family here in the south, and I know the culinary side of things hasn’t been taken seriously for a long time. The outsider’s perspective on this part of the world is that everything is deep fried or coated in sugar. However as you display here, there is a beautiful seasonality to the food and drink here in North Carolina and in other states below the Mason-Dixon line.”

            “Wow,” Serena said not disguising how impressed she was with him. “I’ve been towing that same line since I started running Belle and Beau.”

            Patrick nodded saying, “Based on the inventive breakfast I had this morning, you could easily have a Michelin star, but people just aren’t looking for that level of culinary art in this part of the world. Everyone goes to California for wine, Kentucky for bourbon, and New York for overpriced meals. Well, there and now Los Angeles too… in the right neighborhoods.”

            As they talked more of fine food, a stranger came up from the inn. Taking a glass of wine from the bar, Serena noticed that she began walking their way with her eyes trained on Serena herself.

            “Am I being replaced, boys?” she teased in a somewhat rehearsed manner when she reached them. “I thought I was to be the center of all you conversations!”

            Patrick rolled his eyes at her, “Don’t get your French panties in a bunch, Daphne. This is Serena Beauchene, our delightful host. Serena, this is our Vice President of Communications and Public Relations, Daphne Kim.”

Daphne Kim had sleek black hair that fell down to the small of her back. Her black and white dress looked a bit like a Picasso painting, and Serena remembered it from a New York fashion week ad she’d seen recently. The woman let her red fingernails tap against her phone before shoving the device into her red leather clutch of an identical shade. She smiled as she shook Serena’s hand, but the expression didn’t carry into the dark eyes almost hidden under blunt black bangs.

“So you’re the one I keep hearing about. Everyone was talking about you after that profile. How wonderfully sentimental it was. I’m so sorry I missed most of the day. My late plane from Paris had me in such a frantic state.”

Serena tried to be polite as she replied, “It’s quite alright. I don’t know who ‘everyone’ is, but I hope they enjoyed the feature.”

“Oh, it’s my business to know, Miss Beauchene.”

“Please, call me Serena.”

“Are you sure?” Daphne said with incredulity in her tone.

She shrugged, “Not even my grandmother liked to be called by her surname.”

“Ooh,” Daphne replied dryly. “Another family tradition.”

Patrick laughed, “Don’t be a stick in the mud, Daphne. If tradition makes alcohol and food taste this good then I need more of it in my life. Serena, do you happen to have any men in your life? I’d be happy to marry you if not. We could drink your wine and eat some of those fabulous pastries every day of our lives!”