An Inconvenient Flame

Part 6

     The music grew louder as Dean and Erin approached the room, and they could hear footsteps, as people glided across the dance floor, moving their bodies to a waltz. Erin and Dean stopped, taking it all in. Erin could feel the nervousness creeping back into her stomach. How would she ever be able to pull this off? She had never been a prissy girl and just seeing everyone dressed in designer clothes, jewels dripping from every body, and the overall opulence of Windsor's mansion, made her feel overwhelmed and even vulnerable.

     Seeming to sense her uneasiness, Dean extended his elbow to her with a smile. She took it gingerly, placing her hand in the crook of his arm. He lowered it to his side, pressing her hand comfortably against his rib cage, and the warmth from his body began to soothe her frazzled nerves.

     Dean walked into the ballroom, making his way through the crowd. Erin was thankful she had taken Dean's arm, for she was sure she would have lost him in the sea of dancers. However, Dean navigated through them with ease despite being shoulder to shoulder with everyone.

     Finally the mass of dancers began to thin out as she and Dean reached the other side of the room. He lead her to a table by the wall where several couples sat conversing. Dean took out her seat, and Erin sat down reluctantly, looking up at him as she did. 

     "You sit here, darling, while I go grab us a couple drinks," Dean said, touching her shoulder, his persona already in place. Erin's uneasiness returned as she watched him walk away and disappear into the crowd. She was brought out of her worry; however, when she found a voice addressing her.

     Erin turned back to the table to find an elderly couple staring intently at her. She felt her cheeks redden as she realized they had asked her a question, and she had failed to catch it. "I'm sorry?" she questioned.

     The elderly woman smiled. "I asked you how you were doing this evening," she said.

     Erin smiled in return even though she felt like getting up and running as far away from the table as possible. She was horrible at small talk, and the last thing she wanted was to have to carry the conversation. However, she found herself responding to the woman, her voice clear and genteel, clashing with the tension roiling in her stomach. "I'm doing good," Erin replied. "And how about you?"

     "I'm very well, thank you for asking," the woman replied. "Barbara Ostenberg," she introduced herself, extending her bony hand across the table.

     "Jessica Fleming," Erin returned, the name rolling off her tongue as if it had been hers her entire life. 

     Barbara nodded her head in greeting and turned to the balding man beside her. "And this is my husband, Mark," she said, motioning to the rotund man. Erin shook his hand as well and sat back down.

     There was a slight pause as she and the Ostenbergs sat in silence. Erin felt the awkwardness setting in and was about to excuse herself to go in search of Dean who had still not returned, when Barbara addressed her again. "So, Jessica, tell me. How do you know Windsor?"

     Erin felt a coldness settle in her stomach. They hadn't discussed this backstory earlier, and she realized she would have to come up with something and quick. If she waited for very long, the Ostenbergs would sense something was wrong and the whole operation would come tumbling down.

     She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat and found her mouth incredibly dry. She reached out and took a sip of the water that had been placed out earlier in the evening, perspiration trailing down the glass. The lukewarm liquid slid down her parched throat and settled heavily in her empty stomach. Erin hadn't eaten since breakfast and nausea rose, causing her stomach to roil, only further adding to her discomfort.