Erica Orloff - The Golden Girl

“There’s the other thing. He’s a teacher, not a captain of industry.”

“So what do you like about him?”

“I can’t believe we’re having an honest conversation here.”

“Well, if Claire’s death taught me anything, it’s that life is short. So what do you like about him, Madison?”

“It’s hard to put into words. He’s honest and principled. He’s more concerned with making a difference than just…things. You know, money. Whatever. He didn’t let his upbringing—poverty, gangs, all of it—define him. He’s different, Dad.”

“Gangs?” Her father arched an eyebrow. “Well, I’ll form my own opinion. Maybe the three of us could have dinner sometime.”

“Um…sure. I figured you’d be against the relationship because of the difference in our backgrounds.”

“I have a little more integrity than that, Madison. Give me a little more credit. And give me a chance.”

“I’m sorry. His name is John Hernandez. And when I’m with him, the whole world seems very far away.”

Jack’s eyes grew moist.

“What, Dad?”

“Eh…Madison, I never had that—except with Claire—and that was marred by knowing I had hurt you. Your mother and I…we never should have married. You know that. We were like oil and water. And I regret that we dragged you through the divorce of the century. I guess I thought, because you’re such a workaholic like your old man, that we’d ruined you as far as love was concerned. I guess I’m just gratified that love found you anyway.”

Madison reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I guess it did.”

If Madison thought the sight of John in her bed drove her mad, the sight of him in a tuxedo left her breathless.

“Well?” He cocked an eyebrow at her as he stood in her doorway.

“Oh, my God, you’re so handsome, John.”

He smiled and stepped into the foyer, sweeping her into his arms and kissing her. “And you look stunning.”

“This old thing?” she joked, stepping away from him and twirling around in her Dolce & Gabbana. A rich emerald color, she bought the dress because she knew she would stand out in the sea of black—and it matched her eyes. It clung to every curve, and the back dipped down to the small of her spine, revealing her creamy complexion, smooth and perfect.

“Can we skip this thing and just stay home?” John asked.

“Afraid not. It would be in very bad form.”

“All right then, I guess our carriage awaits us, fair lady.”

He presented the crook of his arm, and she linked arms with him, feeling light, despite the confusion swirling around in her life. Madison realized what she’d told her father was true. When she was around John, she forgot the rest of the world.

Downstairs, Charlie waited with the limousine. He gave her a mischievous look, a playful wink that said he approved of her handsome date.

“John Hernandez, this is Charlie, my protector and driver and all-around friend.”

John shook hands with Charlie. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you. It’s good to see Madison out at this hour, instead of me driving to the office to pick her up from a fourteen-hour day. Not to mention she usually has a briefcase full of papers anyway.”

Madison and John climbed into the limousine. Charlie slid behind the wheel, and soon they were easing out into traffic and heading to the Waldorf-Astoria. The ballroom had been reserved for the senator’s fund-raiser. A long line of limousines snaked along the street, waiting to discharge the glittering and glamorous guests. Paparazzi had staked out a spot to snap pictures as everyone who was anyone in Manhattan disembarked on the sidewalk. However, they were hoping for a shot of Kiki or someone willing to play into their search for sex and scandal. Madison was starting to be old news, a fact she was grateful for.

When Madison and John finally arrived at the entrance, they stepped out of the limousine and entered the venerable hotel and New York institution.

Around Thanksgiving, most of the hotels, the Fifth Avenue stores and the city as a whole started ringing in the holiday season. An infectious holiday mood arrived along with the Muzak of “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire.” The city embraced the holiday season with everything from wreaths suspended from light poles and hotel awnings, to holiday displays in every storefront window.

The Waldorf was no exception. A tall tree rose two stories high in the lobby, decorated with Victorian-themed Christmas ornaments. It shined and gleamed, with an assortment of colorful wrapped presents beneath it.

A smaller tree—also Victorian themed—had an entire feather motif, and was festooned with decorations mimicking ones from Victorian times made from ornate bird feathers, from peacocks to egrets.

“Wow,” John whispered. “I usually have a Charlie Brown tree from the lot down the street.”

“You’re one up on me. I never have a tree. Too busy at work to even enjoy it, let alone remember to water it. Last year, I worked Christmas Day.”

“Not this year, angel. We’re spending it together.”

Madison smiled at the thought. John smiled, too.

“See, the decorations make you feel like a kid again, don’t they?” Madison said.

“Not really. When I was a kid, we didn’t have anything like this. Ever. But it does get you into the spirit of things.”

They made their way to the ballroom. It was arrayed before them like a postcard. The centerpieces on each table were miniature evergreen topiaries decorated in silver Christmas ornaments. Silver and gold festooned the room. The chairs were draped with white silk cloth and tied with gold sashes. Crystal goblets glistened under the immense chandelier, and the band was playing background music—a Cole Porter song.

Couples mingled in the area reserved for cocktails. Men in tuxedos and women in their finest clutched flutes of champagne and martini and wine glasses.

John clutched her hand at the sight of the vice president’s wife, Anne Kelly, a fiery redhead with green eyes, who was charmingly outspoken and had enlivened the Washington, D.C., social scene. She waved to Madison.

“You know her?” he whispered.

“Anne? Yeah. She and Vice President Kelly own an apartment on the twelfth floor of my building. Lovely. They have a cute Jack Russell terrier named Barney. I sometimes walk him in the park—borrow him on Saturdays when I feel like I need a little fresh air.”

“Man, do I feel out of place. Anne Kelly. I wish she’d run for president. I feel like…everyone knows I don’t belong. Bet I’m the only guy here with a tattoo covering his entire upper biceps.”

Madison turned to face him. “Bet you’re the only guy here with biceps that look sexy enough to have that tattoo.” She lowered her voice and whispered in his ear, “I also bet no one else is as good in bed as you are…or has the kind soul you have. So screw them all and let’s have a good time, then go home and make love all night long.” She leaned back to look him in the eye, winked at him and hoped he would relax. She was rewarded with a grin.

“Anything for you, angel. I aim to please.”

“And you do, darling. You do…. Well, time to meet and greet,” Madison said. They approached the receiving line, and waited patiently to say hello to Senator Richardson, who was solo this evening. Her husband, a departmental political-science chair from Colombia University, was keynoting at a United Nations function. Senator Richardson was dressed in a black ball gown with a sweeping train. She was older, with honey-blonde hair tinged with frosted highlights, but her figure was still petite and trim.

“Madison, dear,” Ellie greeted her.

“Hello, Senator…. I’d like you to meet John Hernandez.”