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

Haiti, but because he didn’t pay attention pool side and always managed to get sun burned.
    Mark was accompanied by a young lady , no surprise .   I blinked, why was she familiar?
    Because she had arrived with Peter O’Reilly, hit on Ben and now was latched onto Mark more tightly than a panicked abalone. As Mark worked the crowd, he failed to introduce her, funny; I hadn’t caught her name when she was attached to Peter either .
    Mark introduced himself to one couple, then the next, then the next.   I could hear him in my head even before he was close enough for me to hear him in real time.
    “ I’m Mark Cincet, damn glad to meet you. ” He held the girl and his wine glass in his left hand and shook with his right hand. The girl obediently followed him and seemed unconcerned that he wasn’t bothering to introduce her. She had been completely devoted to Peter a half hour ago, and yet here she was glued to Mark’s side as if they were joined at the hip.  She only offered a closed lipped smile if anyone thought to address her.  I admired her d iscipline and focus if nothing else. I rarely stay by Ben’s side for very long. I am constantly disengaging from Ben every time I see something shiny.
    Peter ’s feelings were the least of my concerns. I took a deep breath, Rosemary insisted that I needed to do more Zen deep breathing. For once I wished I had listened to her. A text or a phone call would be a welcome distraction right now, or I could fake it, I could pretend I needed to answer my phone.  I eyed him as he approached. Now I could hear him.  From his practiced patter, he was just working on the h i , how the hell are you, bull shit and not delivering any real, useful information.
    What a surprise.
    I took a deep breath , not exactly the prescribed Zen deep breath, but it helped my fluttering heart . At least I was dressed for battle.  I had found a draped , low cut cocktail dress (blue, not fuchsia ) on sale at Chico’s . My hair was currently bouncy and shiny since I had just escaped Robert’s ministrations.  Plus , I was wearing my new, light catching engagement ring.  All I needed was my new eye catching fiancé , but Ben was nowhere to be found, he was off saving another damsel. Damn it.
    As Mark approached I glanced around, tamping down a rising bile in my throat that had nothing to do with the mollusk family. Where were my people? They were clearly in the parking lot tents or out back.  I was surrounded by faces I did not recognize .  Was Mark one of the workers?  Did he work for Patrick?  That would be rich.
    He stepped closer. I had half a mind to make a dash for it and hide in the wine tasting room, or behind Carrie in the pergola.  I knocked back the rest of the wine and wiped my lips. My fucking worst nightmare was right here in sunny daylight .
    He greeted another cluster of guests and had just tossed his head back in a laugh when he caught sight of me. Well, that was it. He lowered his head and frowned as the wheels turned round and round (fairly laboriously in Mark’s case) as he struggled to place me . C ome on, how many girls did he leave at the altar?  Should I even ask?
    “Allison ? A l lison ! ”  He exclaimed loud enough for a bout a hundred of the guests to hear.  “Allison Little.”
    It was, I hoped, loud enough to be heard at the pergola, but I wasn’t holding out any hope.  I glanced nervously behind me.
    I saw Carrie ’s head jerk up like a deer sensing the h unter.  She took one look at me, patted Patrick’s arm and determinedly ma d e her way to my side.  God bless the woman.
    “ What are you doing here? ”  Mark reached me first , but h elp was on the way.  I kept my expression pleasant, professional.  I regretted that I held no sharp objects in my hand, but the oyster knife wasn’t far. I’m sure the nice young man would loan it to me for just a few minutes. Picturing Mark with his heart cut from his chest and still beating as I held it up to the