. if only.
Too depressed to pay but cursory attention to Hamlet , she waited for intermission, unsure if she could last that long. Tapping her on the arm, Elizabeth gave her a reassuring smile and mouthed the word "wait."
After an eternity, intermission arrived. Lisa rose from her seat, a contented smile pasted on her face. Her heart pounded against her corset, her throat dry as stale bread.
Elizabeth hugged her waist. "Let's go see," she said with a warm smile. "Surely he'll be in the lobby."
"He's not here," Lisa insisted, as if by some perversity of fate her constant denial would make her dearest wish come true.
The buzz of conversation mingled with laughter in the lobby, everyone crowded so close together Lisa could scarcely move. She eased through the crowd, greeting a married couple she recognized. Electric lights twinkled from crystal chandeliers, bringing gems and gowns into vivid focus.
The ladies gossiped and preened in their shimmering silks, satins, and glittering jewels. Several matrons, their ample bodies enclosed in satin, held lorgnettes to their eyes as they surveyed the mass of humanity. Several men fumbled in their pockets for a cigar and a dollar bill to light it with, eager for a quick smoke. In no time, a gray haze layered the lobby, drifting to the ceiling.
Lisa threw one more desperate look around the room--and saw him. Her heart jumped. She felt like a child on Christmas morning, given everything she'd ever wanted. Owen lounged against a far wall, his head turned away from her, his face showing a pensive expression. What is he thinking about? Lisa wondered as her heart beat ever faster. Is he thinking of me?
She nodded toward the wall where deep crimson draperies fell from the ceiling to the floor. "There he is," she whispered, so thankful Elizabeth and Lawrence were broad-minded, abetting her in her search for happiness . . . however fleeting that happiness might be.
"Where, dear?" Elizabeth said, following Lisa's gaze.
"Over there," Lisa whispered again as she lifted her hand to indicate where Owen stood. "You see that man with dark hair and no mustache standing against the wall by himself ?" She stared at him, willing him to look her way.
"Oh, now I see who you mean," Elizabeth gushed. "You didn't tell me how attractive he is." She tossed Lawrence a teasing glance. "Now, if I didn't already have a husband . . ."
Lawrence sighed hopelessly, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. "We're wasting our time. I'll lead, you ladies follow," he said as the threesome wove their way among the press of people, heading in Owen's direction. . . .
Owen turned broodingly away from the laughing, gossiping men and women with their suave manners, flashing jewels, and heavy scents. But no Lisa. Damn it! He should never have come. What a country bumpkin he must appear to all these society folk, Lisa's kind of people. And what a fool for thinking she might be here. She'd certainly given the impression she'd attend, but everyone knew a woman had the prerogative to change her mind. He tried to swallow his disappointment . . . tried and failed.
Then he saw her as she approached, looking so lovely, garbed in the most beautiful gown he'd ever seen. His eyes strayed to the gown's low neckline, but he forced himself not to dwell on her alluring breasts, knowing too well where his thoughts would lead. Tenderness and passion blended inside him, leaving him defenseless, with only love as a guide. As she moved closer, he managed to feign a cool demeanor, and despite his heart's throbbing, he offered her a relaxed smile. She appeared to be with friends, but his gaze remained only on her.
Their eyes met, the rest of the world forgotten. Her friends stood aside, looking for all the world like two matchmaking parents who've just snared the city's most eligible bachelor for their daughter.
Lisa held her hand out to him. "Owen, how nice to see you!" Relief and pleasure dizzied her, leaving her faint. Surely he saw his
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