Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
I was exhausted, but at least all the long hours weren’t for nothing. I was doing really well at MWM–Albert and the client were both pleased–and Mrs. Kloss was agreeing to the changes I suggested. The biggest one–the one I tackled first so we could make sure we got the deposit back–was to switch the venue. Instead of having it in the ballroom that cost almost thirty thousand for the night, it was going to be hosted in her beautiful old home in the Hollywood Hills.
“That’s actually where we held it to begin with,” she said wistfully. “Alan and I loved having the house transformed. We only began holding it at the ballroom because so many people wanted to come–we couldn’t fit them all.”
“That brings me to my next point,” I said. “I think we should cut the guestlist. I have a list of what people contributed last year. If what they contributed doesn’t cover what was spent on them–” I trailed off, not sure how to put this delicately. I didn’t want to upset Mrs. Kloss, but I had been surprised by the number of guests who’d only donated a few hundred dollars to the cause. Considering how much she spent on catering and the open bar, they were barely covering the cost of attendance.
Mrs. Kloss was more reluctant to agree to that, but she did in the end. “I would hate to offend anyone, but at this age, I suppose I shouldn’t worry about it too much,” she said wistfully.
I reached over and grabbed her hand. “Don’t say that. You’ll be throwing this Christmas ball for years to come.”
She smiled at me gratefully, and before long, the sparkle returned to her eyes. “You know what, I’d like to have you and your sister over for dinner soon. You can get a feel for the space.”
“We’d love to,” I said. I knew Christi would be excited. She’d looked up the Kloss Mansion and admired pictures that had been printed in Architectural Digest a few years ago. It would be nice to get a feel for the space, and I got the feeling that Mrs. Kloss spent a lot of time alone. She was always trying to find ways to keep me a few minutes longer or another reason why we had to meet again the next day.
I was right about Christi being excited. She insisted on buying a bottle of champagne I knew she couldn’t afford to bring over, and she even wore a dress, which was a big deal for her. Our parents hadn’t let us wear jeans or pants when we were growing up, and the religious school we’d attended had been strict; skirts down to the knee, shirts buttoned to the throat. We’d both become a little rebellious after we finally got out from under those repressive roofs. Christi had worn nothing but ripped jeans and short shorts since.
“This place was built in the 1920s for a reclusive billionaire and his movie star wife,” Christi told me as we drove up the long, winding driveway. I nodded, half listening and half picturing the trees that lined the drive wrapped with fairy lights to create the ambiance as soon as the guests drove onto the premises.
“The Klosses bought it in 1971 and did a complete renovation. For a while, it was the most expensive home in the country.” Christi bounced in her seat as she spoke. “I hope she gives us a tour.”
“Don’t ask for one,” I cautioned. “The woman is ninety-two.”
Christi made a face at me. “She has to show us the first floor, at least, if that’s where the party is going to be. Hey, do you think I can come to the party?”
“I don’t even think I can go to the party,” I laughed, glad when we crested the top of the hill and the palatial estate sprawled out in front of us like a great lazy cat. It was beautiful and haphazard, like it had been built to be one size and then they just kept adding on additional wings until it had no particular symmetry or purposeful design. “There’s a suggested donation fee of five thousand dollars.”
That was another one of my ideas after I saw the number of guests who had donated in the hundreds-of-dollars range. These people shouldn’t be spending more on their shoes for the party than the cause of the party. Mrs. Kloss had quailed, but again, she had decided I was right.
“Five thousand dollars!” Christi repeated, but her voice was hushed with awe as she took in the Kloss Mansion. “I can’t imagine having five-thousand dollars to go to a party. Can you?”
I shook my head, a little awed myself. I knew Mrs. Kloss was–or at least, had been–enormously wealthy, but seeing it all laid out like this brought it to life. No wonder she hadn’t wanted a budget. From the looks of this place, she’d never had to budget in her life. For the first time, I felt something other than gentle exasperation at her penchant for excess. Instead, I felt admiration at her ability to adapt at the ripe age of ninety-two. I wondered if Dominic had been here. Granted, he was excessively wealthy himself, but still. Maybe he would be gentler with her if he could see how much he was asking of her.