Unexpected Eva (Triple Trouble #3)(2)
Pointing toward the stage, informing Christie the charity auction is about to begin, I shift around the dainty woman.
“Oh, it was lovely to see you, Eden. Please tell your mother I’m asking about her.”
I bite my tongue and fake a smile.
It’s Eva, you silly woman, not Eden.
One thing that annoys me about being a triplet—people mix us up. Although my sisters, Ella, Eden, and I are not identical, it has been known on occasion, like now, for people to get us muddled. We are fraternal triplets, like vanilla ice cream with different toppings.
Yes, we all have blond hair and yes, we look similar but we are very different in terms of styles and height. Eden is a continuous bundle of youth and laughter, while Ella is our sassy sexy platinum goddess then there’s me. The homemaker. I’m the tallest in our trio and my style is more eclectic than them both combined. While Eden loves nothing better than a trip to the shops to buy more Disney apparel and Ella loves the whole biker chic, leather pant look, I’m more bohemian in style and love a mooch around a vintage clothing store. And it’s normally a quick in and out, unlike Eden, I’m not a fan of shopping around dozens of clothes shops.
Also, Eden is only five foot two and I’m five foot ten. Clearly, not identical triplets.
Goodness knows how Christie thinks I am Eden.
Finally breaking away from Christie, I mosey over to my designated table. Politely greeting everyone with a small hello, I slide into my seat for the evening and make myself comfortable.
I’m relieved to be taking the weight off my feet for the day. They are already throbbing and the night hasn’t even started yet. I’m wearing what my sisters call sitting shoes—too uncomfortable to walk or dance in, simply sit in and look pretty, although even that is too painful.
I push the sky-high gold heels off my feet and give my aching toes a wiggle in the cool air beneath the table.
Enjoying the welcomed calm in contrast to my busy day of school runs, teaching dance classes, cooking, cleaning, and washing, I relax into my chair.
I ferried my two boys off to my parents’ for a sleepover for the entire weekend.
I do not know what I will do with myself for one whole day and night tomorrow. It’s been months since I had any downtime. Although my ironing pile is massive, I’m pretty sure it was waving at me earlier, trying to grab my attention.
Sipping my crisp glass of champagne, I sneak a glance around the room in awe. No matter how many times I’ve been in this ballroom, it never ceases to amaze me.
It’s stunning, decorated in luminous white with a contrasting navy-painted ceiling. Recessed into the ceiling are hundreds of fairy-style lights. It’s dazzling and makes the ceiling look like a clear, starry night. White furnishings cover every inch of the room. Elegant white chairs, white flowers, white table covers, white everything, even the floor, which I thought was a brave choice. However, given the five-star hotel’s clientele, it’s not as if they have rowdy hen parties here every week. No sirree.
The Sanctuary Hotel and Spa is luxurious. Breathtaking. Expensive. Designed for the elite. When the golf championships are in town, this is where all the celebrities stay. You can’t get within an inch of the security gate without being frisked.
When Ewan and I were planning our wedding, I had always dreamed of entertaining my wedding guests here, but it was a way out of our budget. Instead, we rented a large pavilion-style tent within the grounds of my parents' sports retreat. It was beautiful, but a far cry from the extravagance of this magnificent space.
The over-the-top auction items up for grabs this evening mirror the extravagance of the ballroom. Those items draw people in from near and far for tonight’s yearly pissing contest—er, charity auction—and seated around the table, I only recognize half the people to the left and right of me. This could be a long night.
Me, Eden, and Ella literally pulled straws to decide who would represent our dance school, The 3 Sisters Dance School, or as we like to call it, T3SDS.
I lost.
Having recently decided to move our studio to bigger premises, we agreed only one of us would attend this year as we are saving like crazy to make that happen.
It will most likely be a few years before we can afford to move, but we’ve set our intentions. Therefore, sacrifices need to be made, and at two and a half grand a ticket for tonight’s event, even one ticket was pushing it. Although it is all going to charity. How can I get annoyed with that?
Hours later, I’ve relaxed into the evening; surprisingly I’m enjoying it. I’ve made polite conversation with an older gentleman to my left, who I have learned is named Edward. He hasn’t said a single word to his wife next to him since I sat down; the poor woman looks bored to tears. In between my new elbow buddy’s never-ending sea of words, I’ve listened to the auctioneer’s noisy chanting and hammering.
With each auction item, the bids, mainly from the men, get more and more elaborate. As I said, a pissing contest. Next, they’ll be whipping out their dicks to compare who has the biggest.
“Going once, going twice, sold! To the gentleman at the back.” The auctioneer slams his gavel down hard against the wooden podium, then points his oversized, battered wooden hammer toward him. “Number thirty-eight. Congratulations. You just won yourself a luxury all-inclusive week, right here, at The Sanctuary Hotel and Spa, courtesy of the owner, Knox Black,” the auctioneer’s nasally voice chants across the ballroom.