"Everything looks just beautiful in here," said Maria Stork, complimenting the elegantly decorated ballroom. Ivy had spent months planning the charity auction at the wealthy philanthropist's request.
The event was being held to raise money for Cancer Research, a cause that drew in the city's most elite and prominent citizens. For the better part of a month, Ivy worked sixteen hour days preparing for the event. After losing her own mother to breast cancer, Ivy felt particularly invested in the success of the event.
"Thank you Mrs. Stork. The staff did a great job bringing my whole vision to life and we were able to get some wonderful items donated to the auction," Ivy said proudly.
"Rita Jeffries said that you were good, but this is phenomenal," Mrs. Stock said referring to one of her former clients who recommended Ivy for the event.
"This event is very important to me. I lost my mother to cancer when I was in College, and I will do all that I can tonight to make sure that the event goes perfectly," Ivy reassured her.
"I have no doubt that tonight will be amazing. I'm going off to the salon. I will see you in the evening," Mrs. Stork said before leaving the ballroom.
***
"Stand on the mark for the photographers, then my assistant Georgia over there will escort you into the event," Ivy said as she directed one of the guests through the press area and into the party.
Ivy looked elegant in a classic black gown with a lace overlay that added a unique and feminine touch. The high cut neckline and quarter sleeves of the long mermaid style dress were conservative, but the back of the garment was unexpectedly sexy as it bared a nearly scandalous amount of her golden brown skin. Ivy's bright green Jimmy Choo pumps were a surprise pop of color for the otherwise black outfit. Ivy's simple gold bracelet and drop earrings were clearly expensive without being flashy. Ivy knew from years of experience how to toe that line very well.
The world that she worked in was tough to navigate. Although she did well for herself, the wealth of her clients was at a staggering level. She worked with politicians, business moguls, and celebrities on a regular basis, but Ivy knew she lived on the outside of their world. At the end if the day as glamorous as she looked, she was acutely aware that she would never be invited in to the inner-sanctum of Chicago's Elite if she was not working for them.
Ivy was not bitter about this. In fact, she felt happy to stand out amongst the clients she served. With the meltdowns, scandals, and backstabbing she witness in her work, Ivy preferred the comfort of her small and eclectic group of friends. Her best friends were Zach, an artist and pottery maker, and Deanna, a burgeoning fashion designer who treated Ivy as her personal dress-form since they were roommates in college.
Ivy kept the reception line moving quickly as the socialites and celebrities posed for the camera, hoping to have their photographs spread across the society pages.
"Excuse me, Ma'am, I need you to keep the line moving," Ivy said to the woman who was holding up the line with her back turned to where she was directing. When the woman turned and Ivy saw who her companion was, she felt her heart begin to race. It was Brady and his wife Rebecca. She gripped her clipboard tightly to hide her shaking hands and she didn't dare lock eyes with Brady.
"I apologize. I have my head in the clouds," Rebecca said turning and moving to where Ivy was directing her. The woman looked her up and down, but her eyes gave away no hint of recognition or malice, "Your dress is absolutely lovely."
"Thank you. My friend Deanna designed it for me. She owns Anna Lee Designs near Humboldt Park," Ivy said, doing her best to be as friendly as she could to the woman. Rebecca Isaacson was a stunning woman in her mid-forties, but she could pass for a woman in her thirties. She had beautiful olive skin and dark wavy hair with one streak of gray near her temple. Ivy felt herself immediately drawn to the woman's warm smile and sparkling hazel eyes. She felt a guilt and a shame wash over her as the woman chatted with her and complimented her while waiting to move to the press area. Ivy knew what she'd been doing with the woman's husband was wrong in her mind, but staring into the kind, beautiful face of a woman she betrayed made her feel terrible.
"They are ready for you," Ivy said directing the woman to stand on the mark, and after a few solo snaps, Brady joined her for a photo. The two of them were a beautiful couple, and Ivy was filled with warring emotions as she saw them smile so sincerely at one another as the photographers snapped photos of the pair.
Ivy worked on instinct, making sure to keep her cool until the press reception was done. Ivy had not seen Brady in nearly three months, and seeing him while she was working was a particularly unsettling thing. The last thing she needed was a dramatic scene while working. This party was filled with past and potential clients, and if Brady were to make a scene, it could ruin her entire livelihood.
When Ivy entered the ballroom, she was happy that the crowd was large enough for her to avoid seeing Brady and his wife. She examined each of the items up for auction and marveled at what she was able to get donated.
She'd persuaded Deanna to donate a one-of-a-kind dress, and Zach to donate a large abstract painting for the silent auction. There were vacations, spa treatments, jewelry, and interesting items and experiences all up for grabs in the auction. Ivy was delighted that so many people seemed eager to win the donated items. Ivy caught a glimpse of one of the items, a beautiful handmade wooden ship wheel. The item reminded her of her most cherished memories of fishing with her grand father. The man had practically raised her, and still lived in the small Indiana town she was born.
"I have to admit that this is one of my favorite pieces," said a familiar voice that made Ivy spin around to see who it belonged to. She remembered his face, but his name escaped her memory.
"You're the man I met at the Rosewood bar. Scotch and soda, Right?"
"James Hartford. It's funny you can remember my drink but not my name, Miss Whiskey neat," James said smiling his dazzling smile at Ivy.
"I used to be a bartender. Drink orders are easier than names," Ivy said with an innocent smile.
"Well, Ivy Peterson. I remembered your name and your drink order," James said flirtatiously.
"I apologize, James. I will definitely remember this time," Ivy said, placing a hand on the man's arm. She was flirting with him and she couldn't help herself.
"So, the ship wheel," James said directing the conversation back to where it began, "are you interested in purchasing it?"
"The bidding on that is far more than I can afford to part with. I was just admiring it. It's a wonderfully made piece," Ivy commented.
"I'll have to make one just for you," James said. Ivy looked confused, then noticed the engraved JPH on one of the wheel spokes.
"You're JPH of JPH woodworking," Ivy said piecing together the man's presence at the event, "what does the P stand for?"
"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," James said suggestively, speaking of their middle names.
"I'm Ivy Quinn Peterson," she said telling him her middle name.
"James Percy Hartford," he replied, giving Ivy a giggle.
"Percy. How adorable," Ivy said, her attention fully focused on James. Her worries about Brady were gone as she talked with the man.
"It's a family name," James defended.
"Well, James Percy, I have to check on a few things. After all, this is my event. It was nice to see you again," Ivy said, realizing she'd been lost in conversation with the man for a few minutes.
"It was great seeing you as well. I'd love to call you sometime," James said, feeling much more forward than he normally was.
Ivy mulled over the idea before reaching into her clutch and handing him her business card, "Have a good night, James."
The evening was going surprisingly smoothly for the unusually large event. The cost of the event was a minimal donation of twenty-thousand dollars, and people were generously spending much more on the auction items and the free flowing food and drinks had the crowd feeling happy and generous.
Ivy left the ballroom in search of a place to refresh her makeup and gather herself away from the event when a hand reached out and pulled her into a dark room. Ivy didn't scream, even though she was startled. When the dim lights of the room came on, she was face to face with Brady Isaacson.
"I've missed you so much, Ivy," said Brady in his graveled voice as he leaned down attempting to kiss Ivy.
"Don't do that," Ivy said pulling away from him, "what do you think you're doing? You are here with your wife and we are over."
"Over? We spent the past year together, and you think one curt text message is enough to end us? We always end up back together, Ivy. I've apologized and sent you flowers and, you're being stubborn." Brady said dismissively. He and Ivy had more than their fair share of break ups and make ups.
"I can't do this to myself anymore, Brady. I am moving on," Ivy said sadly walking out of the small supply room and back into the nearly deserted hallway.
Brady took her hand to stop her from getting away, and she turned to him, with a look of censure that beckoned him to release her hand, which he did immediately.
"I love you Ivy, I haven't been the same without you," Brady said she could tell that he meant those words, and she felt her resolve slipping.
"I have to get back to work, and you have to get back to your wife," Ivy said, but she couldn't get her feet to move.
"Can I see you this weekend?" Brady asked, "We can go up to my cabin in Michigan for the weekend. Just the two of us."
"I can't. I'm busy," Ivy lied.
"Busy with what?" Brady asked, not believing her.
"I have plans with my friend James. He's right over there," Ivy said pointing down the hall to James who was making a phone call, oblivious to the two of them.
"How do you know James?" Brady asked, playing his cards close to the vest.
"I met him months ago when I broke things off with you. Now if you will excuse me, I have to catch up to him before he goes," Ivy said leaving Brady and heading back toward the ballroom.
Brady was awestruck. What was his protege doing with his mistress? Ivy didn't seem to realize that Brady knew James, and he was unsure of how much James knew about his affair with Ivy. He was going to get to the bottom of things one way or another.