I’d missed the last two years’ balls. The one two years before, when we first learned of Katherine’s cancer, and last year’s shortly after her death. I’d come tonight, my first attempt to keep the promise I’d made her.
Katherine made me swear to get on with my life after she was gone. She and all the rest of my friends had said not to mourn her loss more than six months, but I needed more time. It wasn’t until recently that I began to feel a little restless and bored with my solitary life.
Katherine’s fondness of the annual charity event prompted me to finally venture out and attempt to keep my word. In deciding to attend, I thought to make it a weekend like she and I’d done in the past good years. I reserved a room for the weekend, at the hotel where the ball was being held, thinking that a full weekend in the city could help in rebuilding my life.
I waded through the large hall and found my assigned table - number 151. To my amazement, seated at my table was a woman whose appearance totally embodied the occasion. A “true daughter of Erin”, she wore an emerald green strapless gown that perfectly complemented her bright red hair and pale complexion. A mature woman, I guessed she was in her forties and thought her very beautiful.
She sat alone, the two chairs at her sides empty. Drawn to her loveliness, I placed one hand on one of the vacant chair backs and leaned over to ask, “Is this seat taken?”
She turned to look up at me with a face was both radiant and warm. After looking me over for a few seconds, she answered, “No, it’s not. Will you wife be joining us?”
“Ah that she could. I lost her over a year ago. I’m a widower and have come alone.”
She paused for a moment, somewhat startled by my response. “I’m sorry. Please…join me. I’m here alone too. My husband is stuck in New York on last minute client business.” As I sat, she extended her hand, “I’m Megan Conroy.”
I sat down and said, “Thank you. Delighted to meet you, Megan. I’m Jim Delaney. The luck of the Irish must be with me tonight.”
“How so?”
“I come alone and wind up sitting next to a beautiful Irish belle - the belle of the ball.”
Megan laughed, her blue eyes sparkling, in reply, “Must be those mischievous leprechauns.”
“Leprechauns?”
“Who else could it be? Here I am a stranded belle at the Shamrock Ball and rescued by a handsome man with the gift of blarney.”
We laughed together at her witty rebuttal. When we’d calmed, I said, “Thank you for the compliment - blarney or not.”
“Then again, those little imps could be tricking us by taking everything we say and making it sound like blarney. They’re known to have a wicked sense of humor.”
“I agree. Only one way to tell for sure.”
“How’s that?”
“Why don’t we play along and see if we can beat them at their own game?”
Instead of replying immediately, Megan looked into my eyes and covered my hand with hers. We sat staring at each other for uncounted time. Her gaze didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. Instead, it was what Katherine and I used to often do.
I drifted back into memories for a moment. Coming back to reality, I realized my good fortune of meeting and sitting next to this incredibly attractive woman. Adding to the moment was the flirting banter we’d exchanged. While she’d made it very clear she was a married woman, I was enamored by both her beauty and wit.
Our gaze was broken by the arrival of other two couples, our tablemates. Before greeting them, Megan leaned over and whispered, “I’d love to play along with you tonight. Who knows? The two of us together might be able to outwit even the leprechauns.”
Before I could think of an answer, Megan turned to the new arrivals and introduced us as if we were a couple. She only used our first names to the four and everyone joining us later. All were strangers to us both and hadn’t a clue that we’d just met.
I played along, enjoying every minute. Megan truly was an Irish Belle of the ball through dinner, leading the table conversation with her wit and charm. Afterwards, she coaxed me to the dance floor when the band started.
Understandably, Megan drew the attention of many attendees. As her partner, I rode an emotional high from the admiring looks. We danced together well, leaving the floor only when the band took breaks. As the evening would down, the crowd thinned and the band switched to playing only slow numbers.
Megan quieted with the change in tempo that signaled the approaching end of the evening. She abandoned the role she’d played all evening, draped her arms on my shoulders and pressed her body into mine. I savored feeling her breasts against my chest and the press of her hips on me.
The evening nearly over, I felt the need to let her know how much it meant to me. As we untangled for a pause between songs, I brought her hand to my lips. I kissed it and said, “Megan, you’ve made this evening one I’ll never forget. This ball is the first time I’ve been out in nearly two years. I can’t thank you enough.”
A few seconds lapsed before she spoke, “I feel the same. You’ve been wonderful. Do you mind if I ask you some personal questions about your wife and you?”
“Ask me anything. For all you’ve given me tonight, I owe you more than answers to personal questions.”
