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"You two match." Daphne laughs as she draws a line in the air between our almost identical white linen shirts.
"No, Ms. Steele." He laughs. "Or is it—"
"Ms. Webb, thanks," she says.
"Doctor Webb," I correct.
She blushes.
He beams, but I can't tell if he's proud of me or her or himself. "Doctor Webb, you need to call a colleague to check your eyes. This is natural. That's off-white."
"Of course. How could I be so foolish?" She points to the white walls. "And I imagine that's ecru. And the other is eggshell."
"No. Never. All ecru," he says.
"Who would mix shades of white?" I ask.
She motions to my off-white pants. "How does he not stain them?"
"Your husband is a man of many talents," my boss says.
This time, she beams. This time, there's no doubt why. She's proud of me. She's proud she's married me.
I don't remind myself it's not forever. I let the feeling sink into my skin. After all, we're not here to explain the situation to Mr. Newport.
We're here to seal the deal on my partnership.
The thing I've been working for my entire life.
"But you can call me Daphne, Mr. Newport," Daphne says. "And these are different shades of pink. The dress is fuchsia. The shoes are magenta."
"Of course," Alexander says. "I have two daughters. I know shades of pink."
"Are they here?" she asks.
"No, no." Alexander shakes his head. "They hate this place. One is in San Diego. The other is in New York."
"Oh." Daphne swallows hard. "How lovely."
"It's a wonderful city." There's something in his voice, but I can't place it.
What the hell does New York City have to do with anything?
"Well. What are we waiting for? Let's drink." He leads us through the living room, out to a massive backyard with a view of the canyon and the endless blue sky.
Pacific paradise.
There's no other way to describe it.
"My brother and his wife," Alexander motions to an older couple in matching orange sweaters. They're both standing at the bar, fixing cocktails that match their clothes. "They live in France, but they stay here when they visit. If they visit. They hate California."
Daphne gasps in pure horror. "Who could hate California?"
Alexander smiles, endeared. He starts to speak but stops himself.
He looks at Daphne closely, finding something in her dark eyes. Something he doesn't share with me.
What the fuck?
