her. The reference to a dock must mean they were going to be on or near a boat. The mystery of it felt hopelessly romantic, even though with Ethan she knew it wasn’t. Nonetheless, she could hardly wait until nightfall.
Leonard picked her up at the scheduled time and transported her to the Battery Park dock where Ethan was waiting to open the car door. He extended his hand to help her out of the car. It was chilly, but there was no rain, and she wore her coat open over the new dress. Admittedly to show it off.
“Thank you, Leonard,” Ethan called to his driver and closed the passenger door. To Holly he said, after a leisurely once-over, “I knew you would look stunning in that.”
Their eyes met. She smiled. The left side of his mouth curved up.
“Shall we?” He offered his bent arm and she slipped hers through. But then he glanced down and stopped with caution. “Oh. Right.” He lightly touched her engagement ring. “I generally do not bring a date to events like this. Because our arrangement—rather, our engagement—will not be announced until the gala, would you mind terribly...?” His voice trailed out.
“No, of course not,” she responded, hoping he didn’t see the rush of disappointment sweep across her.
She slithered the diamond off her finger. She also hoped that, in the moonlight, he hadn’t noticed that she’d been unable to remove every fleck of paint from her cuticles. She’d scrubbed her hands raw, but this was the best she could do. With any luck the stylists he’d hired to spruce her up for the gala would have some magic tricks up their sleeves.
“Shall I keep it?” he asked, and he took the ring from her and secured it in his pocket before she’d had a chance to answer. “I will introduce you as a coworker. We can have the evening to practice being comfortable with each other’s company in public and nothing more.”
“Exactly.”
He presented his bent arm to her again. “All aboard.”
As they ascended the gangway, Ethan waved politely to a few people, this way and that.
“Who was that?” Holly asked. “Where are we going?”
“Tonight is a fund-raiser for a private organization I belong to that supports maintenance of the Statue of Liberty as state funding is not sufficient. We will cruise to Liberty Island. The vantage point is spectacular. I think you will enjoy it.”
The yacht set off into the New York Harbor, away from lower Manhattan. Champagne was passed on trays. Ethan and Holly mingled with a few guests onboard, sharing mainly superficial banter.
He introduced her as part of his interior design team and she shook a few hands. When they were out of anyone’s earshot he instructed, “You can discuss the Chelsea Plaza project. Tell people you are currently analyzing the requirements. That you are handling the art, and much will depend on what materials the furnishings are made of.”
During their next chat, around a standing cocktail table, the project came up. Holly interjected with, “We are assessing how people will move through the public spaces.”
Ethan subtly nodded his approval. Holly was grateful for the positive reinforcement. She had never interacted with these mega-rich type of people before. Many of them were older than her—men in dark suits and women in their finest jewels. Wall Street leaders, heads of corporations, prominent doctors and lawyers. All of whom, apparently, with their charity dollars, were helping to keep the Statue of Liberty standing proud.
There would probably be many more people like this at the shareholders’ gala on Saturday. Ethan had been smart to bring Holly here, so she could get a taste of this world she knew nothing about.
As they ferried closer to Liberty, Ethan led Holly to the yacht’s railing to gain the best view.
“She is amazing.”
Holly could only gawk up at the massive copper statue, famously green with its patina of age. From the spikes of Liberty’s crown—which Ethan had told her represented rays of light—to the broken chain at her feet symbolizing freedom, she was a towering monument to emancipation. And her torch was a beacon of enlightenment.
Lady Liberty seemed to speak directly to Holly tonight. Holly looked into her eyes and pleaded for her wisdom and guidance.
“‘Give me your tired, your poor...’ Isn’t that poem about this statue?” she asked Ethan.
“The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus.”
“‘Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.’” Holly had been suffocating in Florida. All her ghosts were there. “Maybe in New York I can breathe.”
“What has constricted you?”
Making up for her mother’s failings, with no father in the picture. Protecting her brother. Appeasing her explosive ex-husband.
“Where I come from nobody thinks big. Everyone is just trying to survive one more day.”
Ethan moved a bit closer to Holly. They stood side by side while the yacht circled Liberty, allowing them to observe her from every angle.
“Fate has such irony. I know so many people who have everything,” he said, “and yet it means nothing to them.”
“Gratitude is its own gift.”
He smiled wryly and nodded.
“As I mentioned, after Aunt Louise retires I plan to move Benton Worldwide’s new construction solely into housing ventures for disadvantaged people. I like giving houses rather than just money. Because I can supply the knowledge and the labor to build them properly.”
Colored lights began to flash on the deck and a band started playing in the dining room. Guests progressed to make their way inside the boat.
Ethan didn’t move, and Holly stayed beside him as the boat turned and the tall buildings of Manhattan returned to their view.
“I have seen so much poverty in the world,” Ethan continued musingly. “People living in shacks. In tents. In cardboard boxes. If I can help some of them have a safe and permanent home I will have accomplished something.”
“You can only imagine what a house might mean to someone who doesn’t have one.” Holly knew about that first-hand, having moved from place to place so many times as a child.
“In any case...” Ethan shrugged “...for all my supposed wealth and success, giving is the only thing that is truly satisfying.”
Once all the other guests had filed inside, Ethan gestured for Holly to follow him in. At the dining tables they sat with some older couples who were discussing a landscaping project for the grounds around the statue.
When the band began a tamer version of a funky song that Holly loved, she stood and reached her hand down for Ethan’s. “May I have this dance, sir?”
Ethan’s signature smile made its slow journey from the left to the right side of his mouth. He stood and followed her onto the dance floor, where they joined some other couples.
She faced him and began to swing her hips back and forth to the music. When her hips jutted left, her head tipped right.
