hightail it toward the lobby to congratulate her son and snap a few photos of her own.
I, in turn, made my way back to my own seat and Andy, the smile on his face mirroring my own. “Wow. Just wow.”
“I couldn’t sum it up better myself.” Andy gestured toward the stage, his voice hushed as the award show continued. “The other night, when you were telling me about past award shows and your category in particular, you mentioned a spiral staircase. Is that what’s behind that red curtain on the right side of the stage?”
Following the path forged by his finger, I felt my stomach churn with excitement. “Yes. And at the very top, behind the platform where the winner stands, is the screen where they will play his or her award-winning campaign.”
“I prefer your.”
“Your?”
He tapped the tip of my nose lightly and followed it up with a soft kiss. “As in the screen where they will play your award-winning campaign.”
I didn’t mean to laugh. And I definitely didn’t mean to snort with that same laugh. But, well, preposterous ideas tended to elicit stuff like that from me. Still, I was glad my fellow nominees and advertising colleagues were either focused on applauding at the appropriate spots or working on their own meals. The last thing I needed was for my propensity for odd noises to become public knowledge.
Andy drew back. “C’mon, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it—about walking up those stairs with your award…about standing in front of the screen while you smile out at everyone…about mentally reviewing the speech you’re about to give in which you break the hearts of every single guy in here by expressing your undying affection for yours truly…”
This time, when I laughed, I managed to refrain from snorting. Instead, I leaned forward, buried my head in his chest for one brief, wonderful moment, and then pulled back to address the obvious. “Yes, I’ve thought about it. Many, many times. But the reality is I’m still a newbie in this field. And honestly, when I say I’m just honored to be nominated, I mean it. As for the part about the broken hearts? That, too, goes without saying.”
The dimples I adored appeared beside his mouth before he swept my attention back to the red curtain. “It’s quite an elaborate set-up for an award, don’t you think?”
“I guess. But there’s not an industry person in this room who hasn’t dreamed of walking up the spiral staircase with their award.”
“I don’t doubt that. In fact, between you and me?” He leaned away from the table to allow the wait staff to replace his salad bowl with his dinner plate, and then continued. “When you first described the whole thing to me on the phone the other day, I actually pictured myself going up the stairs.”
I grinned and then directed Andy’s attention to the table in the front center of the ballroom. “See that table there? That’s the Callahan table. Shamus Callahan passed away years ago, but his wife, Mavis—she’s the woman with the graying hair—and his son, Kevin, have kept the Callahan Foundation going ever since.”
“Why?”
“Well, for starters, Kevin is in the business. In fact, when Shamus passed, Kevin stepped in as president of Callahan Advertising Agency. And, in case you’re wondering, he’s the one seated to Mavis’s right.”
“He’s the president? He can’t be more than forty years old. Tops.”
When I saw that everyone at our table had their dinner, I sliced a piece off my flank steak and took a small bite, the rubbery consistency in keeping with the venue if not the price of the ticket. “Said the thirty-four-year-old pot to the kettle.”
It was Andy’s turn to laugh, and laugh he did. “Okay, okay, point taken. But let’s be honest here. Callahan Advertising Agency is a helluva lot bigger than Zander Closet Company.”
“For now.” I plucked the ornamental green leaf off my potatoes, leaned in front of JoAnna, and handed it to an eye rolling Carter. “Anyway, Shamus and Mavis never had a child of their own so the running of the company was left to Kevin. I’ve only met him very briefly once or twice, but I didn’t really get the appeal.”
“He’s not good at what he does?”
“No, I just mean his not so subtle flirting didn’t really do anything for me.”
“Why would it? You have me,” Andy teased.
“Exactly.” I dipped my butter knife into the pat of butter atop my bread plate and slathered it across the bottom of my dinner roll. “Besides, he doesn’t have dimples like you do and he has a wife and a baby who, based on the empty chair and highchair I can see from here, are around here somewhere.”
“Oh.”
“Uh huh. And the little blonde with the curlicues on Mavis’s other side? That’s one of theirs, too.”
“Why does that little girl look familiar?”
“She’s been in a few of the ads Callahan has done. Most notably the one for last fall’s Boo at the Zoo commercial.”
“That’s it! I knew I’d seen her before. She’s a real cutie.” He took a bite of his salmon and then looked again at the head table. “Mavis looks positively enamored with that little girl.”
I smiled over the top of my dinner roll. “She does, doesn’t she?”
“That’s the same way Stu looks at you, you know.”
I let my gaze travel around Andy to the bald man on his opposite side, my heart swelling at the sight of a man I’d loved my entire life—a man who was so enthralled with the housecoat-wearing woman on his far side I couldn’t help but cringe. Like it or not, Grandpa Stu saw something in my next door neighbor I would never understand.
My grandfather…
And Ms. Rapple…
I must have shuddered for real because Andy set down his fork and patted my hand in a show of understanding. But even with that, I had to look away from the pair before my rubberized flank steak found its way back up my throat.
Category by category the show advanced—Best Humorous Slogan, Best Emotional Slogan, Best Jingle, Best 30-Second Spot, and, finally, just as dessert (chocolate cake!) was finishing up, the lights dimmed, Kevin Callahan’s wife and baby reappeared at the head table to Mavis’s obvious delight, and Carl Brinkman returned to the stage, this time in a top hat and tails and brandishing a cane he spun in the air like a baton.
“Well, folks, we’ve come to the pinnacle of the evening—the very award the late great Shamus Callahan built this entire award show around forty”—the anchorman–turned–master of ceremonies stole a peek at the head table for confirmation—“one years ago.”
Applause broke out around the room only to subside as Carl held his hands up in a silencing gesture. “In fact, the coveted Golden Storyboard statue specific to the night’s top award was designed by Shamus’s wife, Mavis.”
Clearly uncomfortable by the renewed applause now aimed at her, Mavis smiled quickly and then busied herself with her granddaughter and the just-returned grandbaby now seated atop her lap.
