Fun Friday–The Bonneterre New Year’s Eve Masked Ball

Andrew had never seen anything like this in his life. It was like a scene out of a movie: the women wore glamorous evening dresses with elegant masks that ranged from those that barely covered the eyes to the elaborate ones with feather plumes standing a foot or two high; the men were dressed in every imaginable style of tuxedo with masks that ran the gamut from simple to unbelievable.

Why had Bekka thought he’d be a good date to this thing? He could dance, sort of. But this was only the second time in his life he’d ever worn a tux… the first had been at his wedding. The uncomfortable feeling that invaded him was the same that had kept him from going to prom or homecoming dances in school.

Of course, they’d been here for over an hour and hadn’t yet made it close enough to the dance floor for Bekka to even hint that she wanted to dance. Not that Andrew didn’t want to dance with her… she looked incredible. The cream colored dress was off-the-shoulder, and even though she wore a sheer wrap, Andrew could still see the faint hint of freckles across her shoulders through the fabric. When he’d first seen her, he’d been tempted to reach out and touch the curls that rested against the curve of her neck.

“I hope you won’t be offended,” she told him in the car on the way to the ULa campus, “if I have spend a lot of time talking to other people. Between my family and my job, there are going to be a lot of people there who want to talk to me.”

Once they’d arrived, Andrew found that there were several people who recognized him – either from church or from the clinic – who stopped to speak to him, as well.

After speaking to Mayor McCord for a few minutes, Bekka turned to Andrew and said, “I am so thirsty – let’s find something to drink.”

Andrew offered Bekka his arm – as he’d done for most of the evening – and they walked toward the bar set up at the back end of the room. He was surprised to find that the only beverages offered were non-alcoholic and that champagne and other sparkling wines were served from a quarter of midnight until a few minutes afterward for people to toast the new year.

Bekka stood a few feet away while Andrew got water for both of them. When he turned to join her, he noticed a beautiful woman with dark hair in a black dress that had a see-through top with a fur collar, and a straight skirt slit up the side almost to her hip. At her side was a dark-haired man in a plain tuxedo with a simple black mask like Andrew’s.

“Here you are,” Bekka said when he gained her side. He noticed her voice sounded tight, strained. “Andrew, this is Tiffany Jones and Marco Nicholetti.”

Andrew immediately recognized the name of the gossip reporter from Channel Three. He held his right hand out toward her. “It’s nice to meet you.” He shook hands with Marco, as well, wondering how the man was related to Hank Nicholetti.

“Andrew? Would that be Andrew Blakeley, the veterinarian?” Tiffany asked.

Andrew didn’t like the tone in Tiffany’s voice when she asked the question. “Yes, that’s right.”

Tiffany nodded as if she’d just caught on to something. “Interesting. How do you two know each other?”

“On or off the record?” Bekka asked. She was smiling but her voice had a chilly tone to it.

Tiffany laughed and reached out to touch Bekka’s arm. “Oh, Bekka, that whole scandal is yesterday’s news. I was just wondering – you know, one old school mate to the other.”

“Andrew is a friend of the family. He’s the veterinary specialist for CD Stables.” Bekka turned to look up at Andrew. “Tiffany and I were in Journalism school together,” she explained.

“Oh, yes, J-School. Bekka was always at the top of the class – got all of the awards and special recognition. She even got the best internship position in town… of course, since her father is a partial owner of the station…”

Listening to the antagonism in Tiffany’s voice, Andrew was surprised that the woman hadn’t done everything she could to cast a black mark on Bekka’s reputation when she’d had the chance. Maybe the woman had some ethics.

Bekka managed to get away from Tiffany and slipped her arm through Andrew’s to propel him away and across the room.

“I thought she’d never shut up,” Bekka said with a sigh.

“Rebekka, Andrew, why aren’t you dancing?”

They both turned to see Bekka’s grandparents approaching.

“Gram, you know I can’t dance,” Bekka said as her grandmother kissed her on the cheek. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass Andrew – or worse yet, injure him by breaking his toes.”

Andrew laughed along with Bekka’s grandparents. So that was why she’d kept busy speaking to people and stayed clear of the dance floor.

“Well, you can’t be wallflowers all night. I’m sure Andrew would like to have at least a dance or two before midnight,” Chris d’Arcement said, resting his hand on Andrew’ shoulder.

They were still talking with Bekka’s grandparents when the service staff started to circulate through the crowd with glasses of champagne on large trays.

Bekka looked up at Andrew. “I really can’t dance, but if you want to try..”

Andrew heard the beginning strains of a waltz. That was one dance he could do with relative confidence. He held his hand out to Bekka.

He smiled as they moved across the dance floor. Bekka was right – she wasn’t a good dancer. For all of her athleticism, she had no rhythm.

They were laughing at the end of the dance and joined Bekka’s girlfriends at their table. The girls teased Bekka about her lack of grace and congratulated Andrew on being able to make her look like she could dance.

A few minutes later, the music was interrupted in the middle of a dance and everyone in the room stood and migrated toward the dance floor.

As a server passed with a tray of filled glasses, Bekka reached for two. “Non-alcoholic,” she said as she handed one to Andrew. “Unless you want the real stuff.”

“Not if I’m going to drive you home,” he said. The smile she gave him sent a bolt of lightning through him.

They joined the crowd to listen to Mayor McCord’s and Senator Kyler’s speeches. Andrew had never seen the state senator before and was surprised to find that he looked Native American. He was a good speaker and timed his speech to end just when the clock ticked down to one minute before midnight.

“Get ready to take your mask off.” Bekka had to stand on tip-toe to whisper in Andrew’s ear. “It’s tradition to have an unmasking at midnight.”

The crowd counted down the last ten seconds to midnight and at the stroke of twelve, balloons and confetti fell from the ceiling and the lights dimmed as the band played “Auld Lang Syne.”

Caught in the excitement of the moment, when Bekka turned to face him, Andrew pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It felt so right – having her in his arms, her lips soft and full under his.

He broke off the kiss abruptly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.