Free Woman of Substance by Annette Bower

for it.” He straightened his bow tie in the mirror and winked. “We’re a very impressive couple anyway. Ready?”
    She enjoyed her dates with Brad where she networked and met some of the influential business people in the city. The conversations with regard to new taxations and new community ventures were enlightening. The last dinner she’d attended she heard about an inner city project where piano teachers volunteered their time to teach at-risk youth living in disadvantaged situations. The students were allowed to practice on donated pianos at the schools.
    “I always learn something new about our city or Province when I go out with you. I wonder what it will be tonight,” she said as she locked the door.
    He guided her toward his glossy black sport car idling at the curb, held her arm until she was settled on the warm leather seat, and then drove confidently down the street.
    She turned toward him. “Any idea about the main speaker tonight?”
    “I haven’t a clue. It was supposed to be the boss’s favorite cause but that someone got sick and cancelled, so there is a substitute guest speaker.”
    When they approached the hotel door, a valet greeted them. Brad looped his arm through hers as they walked along the carpeted hallway to the Regency Ballroom. Inside, the chandelier glowed with miniature lights, reminding Robbie of the way Frank’s eyes twinkled when he talked about his wife, Mabel. Tearing herself from her thoughts, Robbie clung to her chiffon jacket as Brad helped her out of her coat. The president, Mr. Lawson, of Lawson Supply Management, called to Brad. Robbie stayed by his side for a few minutes, smiling and waving at familiar faces and hearing snippets of conversation about the new customer Mr. Lawson wanted Brad to begin designing a complex computer network proposal immediately, if not sooner.
    The sequins and tuxedoes parted and allowed someone seemingly important to enter the ballroom. Her hand flew to her lips. The distinguished couple consisted of Jake, looking ever so handsome in a stunning black tuxedo and Jean Clifton, the rail-thin body dressed in white practically glued to Jake’s side.
    Robbie swallowed her disbelief. Of course, they were colleagues and old friends. Heat raced up her neck and she pretended intense interest in the conversation but glanced at the banners looking for a clue to the occasion. The speaker’s topic was the African Zhun/twasi, ‘ the real people’ culture.
    What was her problem? Jake wouldn’t recognize her after one little collision in a university corridor. Jean Clifton hadn’t seen her in the body suit. Therefore no one would be any wiser. Her secret identity was safe.
    Robbie excused herself to the powder room for a quiet moment.
    When she came out of the cubicle, Dr. Clifton was leaning close to the mirror straightening her white pencil dress over her thighs.
    “Dr. Clifton, you look sensational.” Robbie turned on the tap.
    Clifton’s eyes met hers in the mirror. “Hello, Robbie. Thank you.” Clifton stepped back on her clear acrylic high-heeled shoes.
    Robbie stood motionless as Clifton scrutinized her from the top of her styled black hair, past her simple gold hoop earrings, and then over her simple shift and jacket and stopped at her gold sandals.
    Clifton raised her eyebrow. “You look nice. I haven’t seen you dressed up before. I forget that my students have lives outside of their research and exams.” Her tone suggested they shouldn’t.
    Biting her tongue, Robbie held the door for the woman in control of her destiny and allowed her to make a spectacular entrance into the ballroom before she followed. The band was playing a swing tune. Brad came toward her with a grin that showed his irresistible confidence.
    “There you are.” He bowed and offered his hand for a dance.
    “I’d love to.” She immediately felt the magic in his lead. He kept the tension in his hold and rock-stepped to the beat.
    “You’re happy tonight,” she