"Not my idea," I said.
Berger nodded. "Seems like an Ellison touch to me. She has a great eye for sight lines and how a room should flow."
"Yeah, Ellison's good like that. Wait, how do you know?" I asked. Our colleagues answered with a trio of juvenile cooing.
"Stop." Berger's light smile was gone. "She's always admiring and comparing the interiors when I, ah, run into her at cocktail parties."
It was my turn to pester my friend. "So, you 'run into' Ellison a lot, do you?" I asked.
Before our friends could answer for him, Berger held up his hand. "We run in the same circles. It's only natural."
"If you like charity luncheons and art openings," I said. The guys laughed.
This time it was Berger that herded us towards the front doors. "I thought you didn't like to talk about Ellison anymore."
"But I would like to talk about your sudden interest in my ex-girlfriend," I said.
Berger scowled. "You're over her. You made that abundantly clear."
I sighed. "Not to everyone."
Rumors still circulated that Ellison and I would get married. People delighted in thinking that our distance was due to the fact we were trying to keep our exclusive wedding a secret. It was ridiculous, but I was glad to see that it bothered someone else besides me. Berger looked miserable when the guys still joked with me about it.
"Besides," Berger said, perking up, "tonight is not about me and the only charitable giving that's going to happen tonight is tips. Let's go out and turn San Francisco upside down."
I tried to stop in the door, but Berger and the guys shoved me through. Before I could protest, remind them that I didn't party for a living anymore, my suitcase was thrown into the limousine trunk and I was pushed into the plush interior. A small disco ball was already spinning inside the party vehicle and the mini-bar was wide open.
Berger instructed the driver to take us past all the hottest clubs in town so we could scope out the scene. I sat back and tried not to see the Bay Bridge at every turn as we wound down from my neighborhood to the lower districts. Every time I saw the bridge, I had the urge to drive straight to Tasha's little town.
"So, I've sold my house," I said. "Have we heard of any other Hyperion employees moving?"
"Nah, but look at that," Berger said.
I glanced out the limousine window just in time to see Stan walking in the front doors of a five-star restaurant. "The big shot himself," I said.
Berger snorted. "Yeah, who knew that our cutthroat leader would give it all up and become the patron saint of the city?"
It seemed to me that Stan had been influenced by Tasha as much as she had been mentored by him. I had kept tabs on my old boss in hopes of seeing mention of her, but so far she was off the radar. Stan, on the other hand, had founded one of the largest charity institutions created in recent history. He broke tradition, and it had galvanized the upper echelons of San Francisco society - where he gave, they followed.
Tasha had to be behind it all, I knew it, but no one could tell me any details. Berger delighted in dangling rumors in front of me, only to admit that he hadn't heard anything about Tasha either.
"Forget about our disappearing colleague," Berger said. "Tonight you promised you'd have fun."
He hauled me out of the limousine and into the club. I kept it up for all of fifteen minutes before I slipped away and headed up to the rooftop lounge. There I had two stiff drinks before I was able to turn around and face the view.
The Bay Bridge was glowing in a light fog. The dark waters of the bay only accentuated the bright bridge's iconic silhouette, but it didn't catch my eye. Instead, I found myself gazing off across the water to the opposite shore. The last I heard Tasha was still there, and I wished more than anything that I could see her again.
Chapter Eighteen
Tasha
The event organizer shook my hand again. "Your foundation has contributed so much, and we're so honored you could join us. It might seem a little plain to you, but I promise you'll have a great night."
"A little plain?" I asked. "True elegance is simplicity."
Topher furiously typed my words into his phone. "Great quote, Ms. Nichols."
I nodded to the organizer and walked into the banquet hall. "When are you going to remember to call me Tasha?" I asked my assistant.