“Like a daughter-in-law in waiting,” Lillian teased.
Bea groaned. “Please don’t say it like that. I’m nervous enough as it is.”
“But they liked you at the Harvest Summit.”
“That’s a generous summarization,” Bea said wryly.
Lillian adjusted her hairpiece. “Do you know what you’re wearing?”
“Three options. All of them black. Two require tape. I’ll ask Georgie to help me decide.”
Last year, she’d shown up to Georgina’s university theatre production in what she’d believed was a perfectly reasonable dress, until women started floating past her in floor-length gowns and enough diamonds to bankrupt a midsized principality.
She wasn’t about to make that mistake again. Not in front of Gage’s parents. Not after the Summit. She’d earned ground. She wasn’t going to lose it because she misread a dress code and accidentally showed up inaspirational cocktailwhen the vibe wasmafia yacht wife.
Lillian nodded, pulling her phone out of her bag as it buzzed.
Her eyes widened.
Bea watched as she answered the call with an excited little breath. “Hello? This is—yes, this is she.” A pause. Her face turned pale, then pink, then pinker. “Oh, yes. Thank you so much. I’d love to accept. That’s wonderful. Yes, I’ll wait for the follow-up email.”
She hung up, staring at her phone. Then at Bea. “I got it.”
Bea was puzzled. “Got what?”
“The data entry job. At the Children’s Integration and Cultural Adjustment Institute.”
“That’s amazing!”
“I didn’t even bother applying for the fancy internships after your trauma,” Lillian said. “This one’s not glamorous. But it’s real. And they’re paying me in actual money.”
Bea grabbed her wrist. “Don’t downplay it, Lils. This is huge. We’re celebrating.”
Lillian tried to look modest. Failed. “At least now I know I can afford Pilates.”
“Your glutes are about to ascend to a higher plane.”
They reached the front. Bea ordered two iced oat lattes with a touch of vanilla, and they both slid their black campus dining cards across the counter.
The barista looked between them. “You two always order the same thing?”
“Today’s special,” Bea said, nodding at Lillian. “She just got a job.”
Lillian gave a little grin. “My glutes are employed.”
The barista didn’t look up. “Congrats to your glutes.”
Bea was already at the picnic table when Nico arrived, a highlighter wedged between her teeth and half her notes fanned out like the aftermath of an academic crime scene. Her backpack slouched beside her, unzipped and overworked.
Nico slowed as he crossed the grass. “Is this a study session or a full psychological breakdown?”
Bea didn’t look up. She just pulled the highlighter from her mouth and flipped a page. “Depends how well you know algebra.”
Nico dropped his bag with a thud and slid onto the bench opposite her. “You look stressed.”
“I have exams in three days and a vitamin D deficiency.”
“Then what are you doing tutoring me? I should go?—”
