The man accompanying Elaine tried to mediate.
“Miss Fowler, please—”
But Cecilia countered, “Wasn’t this her idea?”
She glanced around the room, smiling, “Or does anyone want to see me finish these three glasses?”
No one dared challenge Cecilia, leaving Elaine cornered.
The man turned to Elaine, trying to keep his composure.
“Elaine, you acted without thinking. It’s your turn to drink up for Mr. Evans.”
Eyes teary, Elaine protested, “Why should I?”
Cecilia set the glass down, asserting, “Because I am a Fowler.”
Without another word, she exited, the remnants of the drink swaying in the glass.
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Mark chuckled softly.
“Pardon me.”
“Mr. Evans.” Elaine’s voice halted him.
Pausing, Mark responded coolly, “Miss Shaw, one important lesson in life is to learn one’s limits.”
He departed soon after, leaving a hushed room behind.
A voice broke the silence.
“Just one drink should suffice.”
But the liquor, a reminder of Cecilia’s bold move, tasted especially sharp.
Elaine had made her mark in the entertainment world, and with Chandler’s support, she acted with authority. This incident, however, had deeply humbled her.
Her eyes held a sorrowful tint.
That night, someone had offered to help Elaine, but pride kept her from accepting.
Cecilia hurried on.
Mark had to pick up his pace to keep up. He chuckled, grabbing the edge of her dress.
“You sure move quickly in those heels.”