Reset

People were mingling. It was cocktail hour and Nora decided to do the same.

As she made her way to the table the beautiful, soft music drew her attention to the stage area, where musicians played. Led by a brilliant pianist.

She placed her small handbag on her chair. There was a lone woman seated at the table fiddling with her phone.

“Meredith, would you like a drink?” a man paused behind phone woman.

The woman on the phone, shook her head, then looked again at Nora as acknowledgment.

Nora passed her a smile, said nothing, and turned. She needed to find someone to engage, and not to mention grab one of those drinks being served.

Looking as if she knew where to go and that she belonged there, she moved through the tables, eyeing a waiter.

Drink. Engage.

Just as she stepped to him, a man cut in front of her. He was preoccupied, holding an earpiece to his ear as he spoke.

“Yeah. No it’s not Charlie, it’s Malcolm.  Get your voices right. Learn who you are talking to. And check on camera B. I’m right under A and…” Malcolm said, then stepped aside, out of her way with an apology.

She nodded ‘No problem. Thank you.”

Finally salvation. The waiter. There was one last drink on his tray and Nora reached for it at the same time as someone else.

“Take it, I am so sorry,” he said. Dashing and handsome. Southern drawl. Perfect hair and smile.

“Really? Thank you.” Nora took the drink. He was perfect. Victim one. “You are?”

“Jason Rudolph. And you are…”

Nora didn’t get to answer, a voice from behind her did.

“Miss Rosewood.” The male voice said.

Damn it, Nora thought. Someone knew her?

“Excuse me,” she said to Jason. Then, with her best smile, she turned.

“Are you Miss Rosewood, I was told you arrived.”

“I am. And you are.”

“Not as funny as you,” he said. “Aren’t you just funny?” He reached out and gingerly took hold of her arm. “Pretending not to know the guest of honor.”

“I am so sorry.” She laid her hand to her chest, while quickly taking a drink and remembering the name of the award winner. “John, right.”

“You got it.” He winked. “This is so interesting. How long has it been, Summer?”

“Hmm. Winter maybe.”

He laughed. “You are funny. It’s not like you to joke about your own name since you are so sensitive about it. How did you say it?” He looked to the ceiling. “I resent my parents for naming me after a season.”

“Ah, Summer. Yes.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you were coming. I know you’re busy with the newest projects.”

“Busy. Busy. Busy.”