Since the last meeting he had had with Mr. Odusote, Edward had decided they couldn‘t work together. His investment team did not feel Mr. Odusote would add any value to their work and were downright suspicious of his methods. Edward had explained this to Mr. Odusote, but the man still called to cajole him with more requests. How he managed to get his personal number Edward had no idea. He excused himself and stalked to another part of the room where Kanayo sat with the celebrant and some of their other acquaintances. As he settled his back against the wall, he scanned the room and stopped still at the door.
From his vantage point, he studied the latecomers on the elevated reception area. He recognized the rounded hostess but he didn‘t know the tall and slim middle-aged woman in the group. All his attention was centered on the young lady who was with them. She stood out from the colorful crowd like a beacon, her red dress much more attractive for its modest lines. She faltered as the other women strolled off. Her teeth dug deep into her lower lip as her gaze resolutely turned away from the twinkling lights outside.
She was partly blocked by other party-goers but he noticed the tight-knuckled grip that clutched a folded umbrella to her chest. The long hair framing the smooth oval of her face hung to just below her stiff shoulders. Her eyes darted around the room. Tuning out his companions, he speculated on why she was upset. She couldn‘t be a gatecrasher afraid of being caught; no one could get past the security at the doors without an invitation. Lightning flashed and her face paled in the wash of the overhead lights. As the thunder boomed over the nearby Atlantic, she regarded the windows with ill-concealed dismay. She was afraid of the storm.
**********
“Mrs. Dehinde-Ojo, why are you late to my party?”
“Sorry Atinuke, this flash storm delayed us. The roads are already flooded.” Her aunt hugged the hostess and dragged Gladys forward. “This is my niece, Gladys. I told you...”
“Oh yes of course. Hello dear, how are you?” the plump old lady asked. Her face was a fixture on the tabloid pages as a doyen of fashion. In a society where a lot of women were judged on who their husbands were, Atinuke Johnson commanded respect for her business acumen in running several couture houses. “Your aunt told me your good news, congrats.”
“Thank you.” Maybe if she kept her replies short they would go away and leave her be.