Samantha
The grand ballroom buzzed with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft notes of a string quartet playing in the background. I glided through the crowd, feeling the eyes of the guests on me as my custom-made evening gown shimmered with every step. My long hair, looking darker than usual, cascaded over my shoulders in loose waves, and my makeup was flawlessly understated, accentuating what I'd been told is my natural beauty. I smiled graciously, greeting guests with practiced ease, my presence commanding attention without even trying.
This was my world—the glitz, the glamor, the endless parade of high-society events. I was used to it, perhaps too used to it. The charity gala tonight was no different from the dozens I had attended, or even hosted, over the years. Once, I had lived for this type of event. Now, it all made me want to barf.
I paused at a small gathering of guests, effortlessly making conversation as they fawned over the success of the evening. It was true—the event was a triumph. The ballroom was stunningly decorated, the guest list included some of the most influential people in the city, and donations were pouring in for the children's hospital we were supporting. But as I listened to the compliments and praise, I felt a pang of emptiness. I had to admit to myself that they no longer brought me joy.
As I moved on from the group, I caught sight of a familiar face across the room. Steven, a wealthy entrepreneur, was making his way toward me. His tailored suit and confident stride reminded me of the many suitors who had tried to win me over throughout the years. Once, I might have been intrigued by a man like him—successful, charming, and eager to impress. But now, as he approached, all I felt was a dull sense of predictability.
Plus, he reminded me of Roger. My jackass ex.
"Samantha," Steven said, his smile a little too polished. "You look stunning tonight, as always."
"Thank you, Steven," I replied, my tone polite but distant. "I hope you're enjoying the evening."
"How could I not? You've outdone yourself with this gala. The whole city's talking about it."
I smiled, but it didn't reach my eyes. "I'm glad to hear that."
Steven stepped closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "You know, I was hoping we could talk later. Maybe after the event? I have some ideas for a partnership that I think you'll find very interesting."
I tried not to sigh.
I knew where this was going. I had heard similar pitches before—attempts to get closer to me thinly veiled as business propositions. It was a common dance, but tonight, I wasn't in the mood for games.
"That sounds... interesting, Steven," I said, keeping my voice cool. "But I'm afraid my schedule is quite full at the moment. I am leaving for the Smoky Mountains tonight with Lady Harrington for some family time. I will not be back for a while. Perhaps another time."
Steven's smile faltered for just a second, but he recovered quickly. "Ah, to her chateau outside of Silver Ridge. I am jealous; I've not had the privilege yet. Oddly enough, I will be in Silver Ridge later this week. I would love to talk business then."
I smiled. "Unfortunately, there will be no business talk. The Lady's orders. Call my assistant and see if we cannot set something up next month."
Steven's smile remained but turned stony. "I will do that, Samantha. Maybe I will see you in Silver Ridge."
I nodded and moved on, my thoughts already drifting elsewhere. As I passed through the ballroom, I caught sight of a set of French doors leading out to a balcony. Without hesitation, I slipped outside, craving a moment of solitude.
The cool evening air was a welcome relief from the warmth of the crowded ballroom. I leaned against the railing, gazing at the city skyline. The lights of New York stretched out before me, a reminder of the world I had built for myself—a world that now felt more like a gilded cage.
A soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "You look like you need a break."
I turned to see my aunt, Lady Victoria Harrington, standing nearby. At 42, she was still a strikingly beautiful woman, with an air of grace and wisdom that commanded respect. She was my father's youngest sister, and since the moment I met her, we had been close. She always wanted a daughter, but had to settle for me.
I smiled. "I did. It's a bit overwhelming in there."
Victoria moved closer, joining me at the railing. "It's understandable. Since Henry died, I have found myself enjoying these get-togethers less and less. They are simply exhausting."
I sighed, my gaze drifting back to the city lights. "I hear you there. I miss Uncle Henry too. But it's not just the event, Aunt Victoria. It's everything. I feel like I'm just going through the motions, but nothing really excites me anymore."
Victoria studied me for a moment before speaking. "You've accomplished so much, Samantha. Accomplishment can come with disappointment when you feel like your goals are lacking."
I nodded, grateful for her perceptiveness. "I don't even know what that is anymore. I've spent so much time in the pursuit of...I don't know, purpose? But it's all starting to feel hollow."
Victoria's expression softened with understanding. "Perhaps what you're looking for isn't something you'll find here."
I looked at her, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"
Victoria smiled gently. "There's more to life than these glittering events and wealthy circles. It may be time to think outside your box a bit. Shake things up."
I considered her words but didn't really know what that meant. How does someone in my position shake things up? Join a convent? Become a traveling circus performer? Spin on a pole as an exotic dancer?
I snorted. Roger would love to see that. The jerk.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter drifting from inside the ballroom. I turned slightly, catching a glimpse of a small group of men gathered near the entrance to the balcony. Their eyes frequently darted toward me and my Aunt, a sight that was all too familiar—men of various ages, all attempting to charm their way into my or Victoria's good graces.
Aunt Victoria was, after all, a widow with substantial wealth and influence. With the tragic loss of Lord Harrington, she had never lacked for suitors.
"Looks like you have some admirers," I said, nodding toward the group.
Victoria chuckled softly. "As do you, my dear. Are these admirers or opportunists? It's hard to tell these days."
I smiled, but my heart wasn't in it. "I don't know how you do it, Aunt Victoria. The way you handle all of this—the attention, the expectations... It's exhausting. I thought dealing with modeling photographers and fans was difficult. But high society, it's like...the worst."
Victoria's gaze softened as she looked at me. "It wasn't always easy, Samantha. But I learned a long time ago that true contentment doesn't come from the adoration of others. It comes from within."
"You sound like a Hallmark special."
She chuckled. "Doesn't make it any less true."
I nodded, though I still felt a twinge of envy at her composure. Victoria had always seemed so at peace with herself, so unaffected by the trappings of wealth and power. I, on the other hand, felt increasingly disconnected from the life I had built—a life that seemed so glamorous on the outside but was slowly suffocating me on the inside.
As if sensing my thoughts, Victoria reached out and gently touched my hand. "The world is full of possibilities. You simply have to look for them and take a chance."
Before I could respond, the doors to the balcony swung open, and a man in his late forties, with salt-and-pepper hair and an air of self-assuredness, approached us with a confident stride. Lord Ashmire, or Askmere, or Assmirer? I couldn't remember.
"Lady Harrington, Samantha," he greeted us with a charming smile, bowing slightly as he took Victoria's hand and kissed it. "You both look radiant this evening."
"Thank you, Lord Alterminer," Victoria replied, her tone polite.
Alterminer, damn. I was way off.
"Please. I've told you. Please call me Charles."
Lord Alterminer's tone was annoying.
Victoria didn't miss a beat. "My Lord, I trust you're enjoying the gala."
"Absolutely," Charles said, his eyes lingering on Victoria. "Though the real highlight of the evening is being in the presence of such captivating women."
Victoria smiled curtly but didn't engage further, making it clear that the conversation wouldn't go much deeper. Charles, undeterred, turned his attention to me.
"And you, Samantha," he said, his tone slightly more playful. "I heard you're involved in another charitable project. What is it this time? Building schools in underprivileged areas? Or perhaps saving endangered frog along the River Nile?"
I forced a smile. "Actually, it's a mentorship program for young women in the fashion industry. Helping them navigate the pressures and pitfalls of the business."
Charles nodded appreciatively, though I could tell his interest was more about flattering me than any genuine curiosity. "A noble cause, indeed. Perhaps we could discuss it further sometime—over dinner, perhaps?"
"Thank you, Charles," I replied, keeping my tone neutral. "But my schedule is quite full these days. Maybe another time."
Charles's smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly, offering a small bow before excusing himself. As he walked away, I let out a small sigh of relief.
Victoria chuckled softly. "You see? It never ends."
I shook my head, a hint of amusement in my voice. "It's like they're all reading from the same script."
"They often are. Remember this is all about polite society," Victoria said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "But don't let them get to you. They're just part of the scenery."
"I wish Louis was here. He would ward of the posers."
We laughed. It is true. Louis would ward off the posers.
The night wore on and several more men approached us, each with their own attempts at charm and wit. There was Arthur, a silver-haired gentleman in his sixties who tried to impress Victoria with tales of his yacht and his recent travels. Then there was Devin, a younger man in his thirties, whose nervousness was masked by a practiced confidence as he complimented Victoria's poise and my elegance. And finally, there was Daniel, a dashing man in his forties who seemed more interested in his own reflection in the glass doors than in the conversation he was attempting to have with Victoria.
Through it all, Victoria remained composed, politely engaging with each suitor while maintaining a distance that made it clear she wasn't interested in anything more than light conversation.
Finally, after hearing from another Ivy League college senior about how he is joining the markets on Wall Street, I excused myself from the balcony, leaving my aunt to fend for herself. Victoria waved me off with a knowing smile.
I navigated my way through the opulent ballroom, my heels clicking softly against the marble floors. The gala was in full swing, with guests laughing and chatting, their glasses clinking in celebration. To me, it all felt like a blur—the same faces, the same conversations, the same hollow compliments.
I needed distance, something real to break through the superficiality that surrounded me. Spotting a side door leading to the gardens, I made a quick decision and slipped outside.
The cool night air was a welcome relief as I stepped into the garden. The sounds of the party faded into the background, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. The garden was beautifully lit, with soft, golden lights highlighting the pathways and casting a warm glow on the manicured bushes and flowers.
I walked slowly, taking in the tranquility of the space. I came to a stop at a stone bench beneath a large oak tree, where I sat down and leaned back, closing my eyes and letting the peacefulness of the garden wash over me.
For a moment, I allowed myself to forget the pressures of my life—the constant scrutiny, the expectations, the endless search for something I couldn't quite define. Here, in the stillness of the night, I could almost imagine a different life, one where I wasn't always in the spotlight, one where I could sit quietly in the moonlight, not knowing what I was doing or why.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel path. I opened my eyes to see a young man approaching, his expression a mixture of hesitation and determination. He was probably in his early twenties, with tousled brown hair and an air of nervous energy.
No, he couldn't be more than twenty. Approaching the twenty seven year old supermodel. Ballsy, I will give him that.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice tentative.
I smiled politely and gestured to the bench. "Go ahead."
He sat down, keeping a respectful distance. He fidgeted with his hands, clearly unsure of how to start the conversation.
"I hope I'm not bothering you," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I just… I've been trying to find the right moment to talk to you all night."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. "Oh, and who might you be?"
"I'm Allen, and you don't have to be embarrassed or pretend to remember me. We've met before, but that was a long time ago, and I was quite young. Unfortunately, not all of us can be as memorable as you are."
I was taken aback. That was smooth but sounded sincere. It might not have been, but my BS detector is pretty good. Interesting.
"I can accept that. Nice to meet you again, Allen. I am Samantha Harrington."
"Yes, it is Samantha. The pleasure is all mine."
I settled back. "So, Allen, you've been waiting to talk to me all night. You have me. What do you want to talk about?"
He looked down at his hands for a moment before meeting my gaze. "I know this might sound strange, but are you okay? For someone who pulled off the party of the year, you seem sad."
Again, I was taken aback. "And why do you say that, Allen?"
He shook his head. "Honestly, I am not entirely sure. You are radiant. You're always radiant. Like a warm breeze of the lake a summer morning. Tonight you just seem kind of off."
Damn. This guy is good. I am not even sure how to answer.
He smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
I eyed him. "Okay, Allen, let's pretend for a second that I am sad. Why would I share with you?"
He shrugged. "I am not necessarily expecting you to. I just wanted you to know that someone noticed. Talking about it can be helpful. Trust me, I know."
I turned away from him and took in the view of the Newark skyline. New Jersey gets a bad rap, but I actually enjoy this view even more than in New York. We sat in silence for a moment.
"I've always wanted to do something meaningful." I started talking without realizing it. "I have plenty of the things that people aspire to. I've got a great family. I've had good career and educational success. My relationships have been a disaster, but I'd like to think that my prince charming is out there for me. I got into the charity game to make a difference, to find…something, a cause I can work towards. So when my looks fade and I am an old woman in a rocking chair, I can look back and say I gave more than I took. I hopefully made the world a bit better.
I paused again to gather my thoughts. Allen didn't say anything either. "I guess you could say I am sad because I am not sure what I am doing is the way to make the world a better place."
He looked at me with a mixture of hope and curiosity. "Do you really believe that?"
"Honestly, I don't know what to believe," I replied, my voice firm. "I come to parties, I get rich people to pay money toward a cause. I am praised, I am asked out on dates. I am given awards. I've collected millions of dollars. But I don't really see any change in the world. And it super bugs me when CEOs of supposedly nonprofit charities are driving around in $180,000 BMWs. I don't know. Maybe I need to go teach at an inner-city school or something. You know, like Michelle Pfeiffer did in Dangerous Minds."
Allen laughed. "That's a really old movie, Samantha."
I shrugged. "An oldie but goodie."
Allen turned to look at me. "You're searching for something that gives your life purpose. I know the feeling. I think most people do. I don't know the answer. All I can say is don't let self-doubt hold you back from looking. Go outside of your comfort zone. See something new. Try something new. Be something new. Then start small, find your niche, and build from there."
My expression turned quizzical. "Allen, has anyone ever told you that you are incredibly wise for your age?"
He grinned. "And how old do you think I am?"
I shrugged again. "I'd say 19 or 20."
"I am 43 years old."
We looked at each other and laughed.
As we laughed, a group of guests appeared at the entrance to the garden, their laughter cutting through the quiet. Allen glanced over his shoulder, his expression turning sheepish. "I should probably get back inside. But thank you for talking with me. And you look absolutely stunning tonight."
As the young man walked away, I impulsively reached into my clutch and pulled out my phone. Without giving it much thought, I snapped a quick picture of him from behind—his tousled brown hair and nervous energy still evident even as he retreated back into the gala.
I opened a messaging app and scrolled through my contacts until I found the group chat labeled "Harpies." The name always made me smile, a little inside joke between me and my three closest friends. We had all been models once, the kind of women who turned heads wherever we went, but now we were more like sisters.
With a smirk, I attached the picture to a new message.
Samantha: Look what I found lurking in the garden. His name is Allen. Who wants to bet he's a poet or an aspiring artist?
I hit send, imagining the reactions I'd get. The Harpies were always good for a laugh, and I could already hear the teasing replies forming in my head. I didn't have to wait long.
Liv: Ooooh, a garden poet? How romantic! Did he recite sonnets or just give you puppy dog eyes?
Grace: He's probably one of those guys who does yoga at sunrise. Maybe you should ask him to join me for a workout session. 😜
Natalie: Interesting. Be wary. There are wolves in sheep's clothing.
I laughed. My friends. Those responses were so…them.
I laughed out loud before putting my phone away.
With a sigh, I re-entered the ballroom, the warmth of the garden fading as the buzz of the gala surrounded me once more. The picture had already slipped to the back of my mind, replaced by the familiar whirl of social obligations and expectations. But somewhere, in the recesses of my thoughts, a small voice reminded me that perhaps I shouldn't be so quick to dismiss moments like the one I'd just had.
Grace: So did Allen tell you about himself, or was it all just mysterious garden vibes?
I glanced at the message, a small chuckle escaping my lips as I realized I should have asked Allen more about himself. I had been too caught up in the sincerity of the moment, or perhaps I had subconsciously enjoyed the brief escape from the superficial formalities that usually dominated my interactions.
I quickly typed out a reply as I approached Victoria.
Samantha: Not really. Just came at me like a sage, told me I was gorgeous, and gave me some advice. It was cute.
Liv blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.
Liv: Oh, and he left without giving you his contact information. How romantic. I love it. This could be fun!
Grace followed up, equally amused.
Grace: I'm telling you, he's definitely a yogi. Probably does meditation too. Maybe he's your Zen guru in disguise!
Natalie, true to form, was more contemplative.
Natalie: People enter our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime, and we are constantly updating that list.
Liv: Wow, Nat, that was deep!
Natalie: Not really. I think I read it on post card.
I put my phone away as I reached Victoria, her smile warm and welcoming as always. She noticed the faint amusement in my expression and raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry.
"Something funny?" she asked, a knowing glint in her eye.
"Just the Harpies being themselves," I replied, waving it off with a smile. "You know how they are."
Victoria chuckled softly. "Yes, I do. They are good girls."
I nodded, appreciating the truth in her words. My friends have always been a source of laughter and support, helping me navigate the complexities of our world with a bit more levity.
As we stood together, the conversation around us flowed naturally, but my mind kept drifting back to that moment in the garden. The young man's earnestness, his genuine admiration—it had been refreshing, a stark contrast to the usual interactions I was used to.
Victoria must have sensed my distraction because she leaned in slightly and spoke in a quieter tone. "How was your break?"
I hesitated, unsure of how to put my thoughts into words. "Great, and I realized something."
"What's that, my dear?"
"I realized how much I appreciate those moments when I can just be myself. No pretense, no expectations."
Victoria studied me for a moment. "Those moments are rare in our world, but they're important. Don't lose sight of them."
I nodded; no further comment was needed. I agreed.
The night wore on, the gala continuing in full swing around us. I re-engaged with the guests, fulfilling my duties with the usual charm and grace, but my mind was elsewhere.
As the final guests began to trickle out and the ballroom started to empty, I felt a strange mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. I had done what was expected of me, played my role to perfection, but something had shifted. The night had solidified something within me. I wanted to look for something more…something I couldn't explain or even outline.
I needed to do something crazy. I just needed to figure out what that is.
In the Harpies' group chat, I typed out a final message before heading home for the night.
Samantha: Tonight was… different. Maybe it's time to shake things up a bit.
Liv was quick to respond; ever the cheerleader.
Liv: That's the spirit! Let's start with a girls' trip. Somewhere fun, somewhere new. We can all use a little adventure.
Grace added her own enthusiasm.
Grace: And don't worry, I'll make sure we stay active while we're at it. Adventure and fitness, the perfect combo!
Natalie, as always, offered her quiet encouragement.
Natalie: Change is good, Samantha. Follow that feeling. We're with you, no matter what.
I smiled as I read their replies.