One would think that Jane would relax at that news—that it wasn’t that Caro only had days to live. But no, Jane tensed up even more.
Because in a few days Jane would have to endorse her father and pretend they were all one big happy family.
Sure enough, even as I rubbed it, her back went ramrod straight.
Chapter26
Jane
The restof the party went by in a blur. There were presents, which were excruciating to sit through. Not that I didn’t like stuff, but it all reminded me of those birthdays years ago. I half expected to hear my mother screaming from the next room that it was time for Caro to leave, that Pandora was my mother, all while my father tried to placate her and Caro would sit with a serene smile etched on her face.
But my mother wasn’t in the next room, and Stick sat next to me while the whole thing was going on, giving me a sense of calm about the whole night.
Yeah, Stick was my calming influence—how’s that for an oxymoron?
My father and Caro gave me an all-expenses paid trip to New York for a weekend for myself, Lily and Syd. Included were huge gift certificates for Barneys and a very fancy spa and salon.
It was very generous, and very nice of them to include Lily and Syd. But I knew the advantage to them was a. making sure I went (by including my pals), and b. ensuring I’d have nice,appropriateclothes to wear this summer while out campaigning (Barneys). There would be no thrift store shopping on this trip.
Lily and Lucas got me a monogrammed keychain, which was very nice, and I knew Yvette’s key fob would be going on it soon. Syd gave me a really nice leather-bound journal. “For your adventures this summer,” she said. The Spauldings gave me gift cards to several of the restaurants in Schoolport.
And Stick gave me a pair of sunglasses and a scarf. It wasn’t the big, dramatic, drapey kind of scarf that Syd had gotten and which I thought was cool. It was smaller, lighter, in a pretty green with a small pattern of gold woven through it.
“It’s to wear when you’re driving the Vette, now that the weather is near top-down level. Like some French aristocrat or something, driving across the countryside.”
I didn’t know what movies he’d been watching, but it was perfect, and I told him so. There was an awkward moment when I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but wouldn’t with so many people around. Which was fine with me—I didn’t need any big PDA either.
We were saved by Dotty, who brought in the cake, candles lit and all. They sang for me and I blew out the candles.
“Did you make a wish?” Syd asked.
I looked at Stick. “I wish I knew your real, full name.”
Everyone laughed. Stick just smiled and said, “It doesn’t come true if you tell people what you wished for.”
I looked over at Lucas, brow raised. “I don’t rat out friends,” he said, his hands in the air.
The night went on, cake was eaten, small talk was made. Those of us under twenty-five naturally congregated together, as did Caro, Joe, the Spauldings and Elliot. From the bored look on Lily’s mom’s face, I guessed they were talking about Joe’s campaign. She was the only one in the group that looked bored.
Everyone left around ten. Lucas took Stick’s car and they gave Syd a ride home. Stick and I helped Dotty clean up while Joe sat with Caro in the living room in front of the fireplace. I stood in the entryway watching them—witnessing the ease and comfort they felt with each other, even after all the shit they’d been through.
“It’s nice, right? Them?” Stick said softly behind me, watching the couple too.
“I guess,” I said, not really sure.
We got the place cleaned up, and my father left, giving me a hug before he did. I thanked both him and Caro for the party. And, mostly, I meant it.
Stick asked for me to wait for him in the kitchen while he and Dotty helped Caro settle in for the night. I sat at the table in the nook area, where I’d spent so many afternoons drinking tea and talking with Caro—sharing her memories. Making some of my own.
“Ready,” Stick said quietly as he came into the kitchen. He had a monitor to Caro’s room in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.
“You know I only turned nineteen, right? Not twenty-one?” I said, rising from my chair and leading the way out the French doors and toward the guesthouse.
I heard Stick snort from behind me. “Please. The first time I met you, you asked me to buy beer for you. The second time, I had to drag you out of a club and you were too hammered to sit up straight in my car.”
“Yes, but neither of those times were on Stratton estate grounds.”
“True enough.” We entered the guesthouse, and Stick turned the lamp on in the living area, but took my hand and led me to the bed. He sat down and I sat next to him, our hips touching.
