Clare’s black dress has sharp angles and a wide black belt. It looks more like something a stylish lawyer would wear to court than what a coed should wear to a party.
She gestures around the library using her right hand where she’s holding a tumbler of amber liquid. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her tone is hard, but I try not to let it rattle me.
Keeping my voice light and friendly, I say, “Looking for scrapbooks from the years my mom was at GU. I wanted to see what pictures there were of her.”
“The library is off limits for nonmembers. If you want access, you’d better go out and help O’Rourke work the room. His charm alone won’t get you in, you know. You’re the one who needs to make the grade, not him.”
Forcing myself to smile the way I do at my fake Allendale grandparents, I incline my head. “I know, but his charm doesn’t hurt. It got the president interested enough to read my essay while we were chatting in the parlor, and she said she was impressed. So, hopefully everything’s on track.” Infusing my voice with warmth, I say, “Thanks again for your mentorship.”
One of her artificial-looking dark brown brows arches. “Get your lips off my ass, Allendale.”
That ignites the kind of fury I have trouble controlling. “Just trying to be nice.” My feigned friendliness is quickly draining away.
“You’re right that my influence could’ve made you. It can also break you.”
My eyes narrow. “Is that really who you want to become, Clare?”
She finishes her drink. “Don’t flatter yourself. Nothing about you is worth a transformation of any kind. I am who I am.”
“Someone who’s spiteful for no good reason?”
“Fuck off.” She stalks over to the door and holds it open. “Get out of the club library.”
Despite becoming angrier by the second, I talk myself out of doing anything that could escalate things. Raised voices might draw a crowd, and an argument with a senior member would hurt my chances.
As I exit, I’m expecting her to follow me out. Instead, she closes the door, which immediately raises my suspicions. Would she hide or destroy the club’s books with photographs of my adoptive mom? The thought causes my blood to run cold. Celine loved the club so much. I don’t want her erased from its history.
No. Stop being paranoid, I tell myself. As a devoted member, Clare Duffy wouldn’t destroy Briar Club property.
But after a few moments in the hall, I open the door slowly and peer in. Clare stands in front of the local history shelf where I’d just been, and she’s pulling items that definitely look like bound keepsakes from the shelf.
For fuck’s sake.What is wrong with this woman?
Confronting her isn’t the right strategy. When challenged, Clare Duffy digs in her heels. What I need is a distraction, something to draw her away and hopefully make her forget about the scrapbooks.
I stalk down the hall, determined to make the most of Jamie’s help, though not exactly sure what I’ll propose.
As I approach the group he’s a part of, someone says, “With that underbite, Rawls looks like the rat he is.”
“He does, yeah.” Jamie’s lovely accent seems just as irresistible to them as it is for me. “He’s the kind of guy you want to punch in the jaw, but first you’d have to find it.”
Laughter erupts, and Jamie takes a swig of whiskey.
When he spots me, however, his smile fades. He must sense something’s wrong because he sets his glass on a tray and strolls over.
“Everything all right, Cranberry Sauce?”
I purse my lips as I shake my head. “Clare Duffy.”
“Still?” He cocks his head, then shakes it. “Going down fighting, is she? That’s the Irish.”
“I tried being nice. Which landed poorly.”
He glances over my shoulder. “Where is she?”
“In the library. Could you talk to her?”
“I will, yeah.” He follows me down the hall. “Do me a favor, Sauce. Stand outside the door and keep watch. If someone comes over to you, knock once. If someone’s coming in the room, knock twice.”
