Catharine Bramkamp - Real Estate Diva 04 - Trash Out by Catharine Bramkamp Page A

disadvantage.” 
    I carefully set the shell back on the crushed ice and virtuously rejected another. “She knows I won’t marry in Marin again.” 
    “No, that wouldn’t work for you at all. ”  Ben extracted his arm from Cassandra’s grip.  “ M y mother would be happy to offer her house, or the courtyard of the De Young , o r Grace Cathedral, whatever you want.”
    I frowned. That would be magnificent. But I think I’m too mature for over the top magnificent.  “I’m not even sure I want to wear white.”
    He shrugged.  “Wear purple, wear a toga, that would work just as well.”
    “Oh , now you’re just being silly.”  Cassandra perked up a bit and gently slapped Ben’s arm.
    Ben rolled his eyes and obediently ushered Cass andra to another knotted group.  He owed me . I was acting the part of the perfect, understanding fiancée. If I pushed, I probably could negotiate for any kind of wedding I wanted.  I watched the two make their way awkwardly back to the tent.  After a few words and another pointed extraction from her grip, Ben moved away from Cassandra and with visible relief, greeted Carrie and Patrick who were heading to the wine tasting room. 
    Carrie had bundled her dark brown hair up in a twist and wore brilliant dangly earrings that looked like long strands of genuine rubies. She wore a brilliant fuchsia strapless dress that complimented her skin and wide happy eyes. It was also the official wedding color : fuchsia and hot pink , no it was pink and tangerine, orange. I couldn’t remember .  Patrick was as dapper as usual; his perfectly cut suit spoke of tailoring rather than off the rack.  I watched as Ben, towering over both of them, hugged Carrie, then surreptitiously ran his finger under his collar. He caught my eye and I nodded.  He stripped off his own silk tie with a Chippendale’s flourish.   
    Cassandra had gracefully abandoned Ben and now hung onto a tall handsome guest in a ten-gallon hat as if reaching for a life preserver . She paused, eyeing Ben, then steered her new guests to the tents anchored over the parking lot. She seemed to be lurching from one man to the next , like a ship with no mooring .  I on the other hand, was well ballasted by oysters.

 
    I reluctantly bid g oodbye to my oyster shucker and grabbed a glass of something red as I launched into the sunlight. It was a good event.  Ben’s mother cancelled at the last minute so I didn’t need to face her and make small talk. My mother was not here. I was feeling good.
    It didn’t last. 
    The crowd milling around the entrance of the tent abruptly parted, and there he was. I blinked, the first thought that chased though my addled brain was, that can’t be right.

 
    Chapter 6
     
     
    My stomach clenched at the sight of him, I stepped back into the shadow of the building as he worked his way through the party guests , glad-handing everyone, to the front patio area. Had he seen me? I fervently hoped not. Then again, when had he ever really seen me?  I glanced around, but I was too far from the tasting room entrance for a quick exit inside.  Besides, a sudden movement would telegraph my presence for certain. 
    I eyed him while arranging strands of my hair around my face as a pathetic disguise. I felt like my nieces and nephews who used to hide behind a door and close their eyes because if they couldn’t see me, I couldn’t see them.  I always saw them, so I knew my ploy did not have longevity on its side.
     
    He had lost some hair. He had gained some weight . We all look a little older in our late thirties, but he had aged more. Much more. And his face looked like his features had been moved around like Mr. Potato Head played with too vigo rously then returned to the box all the features intact, but rumpled, never the same as when the toy was new. Maybe Mark had spent too much time baking in the sun, not because he toured the world on his yacht or because he volunteered to rebuild communities in