Wow. He must have really hurt her.
Break-ups were my special area of expertise. I had plenty of war stories, but she breathed in deeply like she needed a quick patience reset. I wouldn’t push it. She’d come to me and talk about it when she was ready.
“Good luck tonight, Mom. And have fun.” She walked out of my room like her ass was soaked in gasoline, and I was chasing her with a match, then a second later, the door to her room squeaked shut.
I sighed, more internally than into the silence of my evening. One day, she would come to me and tell me all the details. We would eat pizza and ice cream as we commiserated over her love life. But right now, she needed a minute. I could give her that.
But the silver scarf had to go. It wouldn’t do to show up looking like I needed to be plugged into a wall outlet. And the sweater made me pasty and pale. My girl may have known colors but not when it came to clothes. Since we were having an unseasonably warm autumn, I changed into a sleeveless white cashmere sweater, a pair of pleated black shorts—I still had great legs—and a pair of flats. And then, I was off to bunco night.
CHAPTERFIVE
Iwalked to Esther's house because on such a beautiful night, it would’ve been a travesty to drive. The crisp, clean air whispered that winter was coming in that way that made me feel so alive I wanted to shout or laugh like a fool. I inhaled deeply, loving how the air was tinged with the fresh scent of green life and just a little bit of rain, even though the sky was clear.
I smiled. If the walk was longer, I probably would’ve put on a jacket, but I still felt warm from my house, enough so that the chill in the air wasn’t all that bothersome. Then again, it could’ve been that I was in a constant hot flash that made me run hotter than normal. I’d been having them more and more often this year.
An occasional car passed me as I went through the neighborhood, and I confidently waved at them, feeling like the queen of the neighborhood rather than the antisocial hermit that I was. Although, I probably looked like the town lush carrying my bottle of Merlot that I’d picked up from the local winery earlier today. I didn’t care. It was bunco night, and I was invited! So, if people thought I was being friendly because I had a few too many? Well, screw them! I had apaaaaartyto go to!
Don’t squeal. Don’t squeal!
The house was a couple of streets over, where the houses were bigger, and the yards were edged and professionally tailored. There were colonials and French provincials, a Victorian, a Tudor, one with giant Greek columns and a few architectural marvels, but none were so stately and regal as Esther’s. Or as big. She lived in an obscenely beautiful brick and stone home with a wall of windows on one side. I’d never seen such opulence and grandiosity up close. It took up three lots on the curve of the cul-de-sac and bordered the woods on the backside. That’s how grand it was.
When I could close my mouth and stop staring, I walked to the gate. Even the moon seemed to be working to make the house look…more. It was dreamy and impossibly beautiful, bathed in a soft, almost blue, light that made me feel like a pauper sneaking into the ball.
Before I rang the bell to summon a guard, or the guy who would haul this thing open, I took a minute to calm down so I wouldn’t start the night by embarrassing myself. I reminded myself to be normal. To not just talk endlessly about things no one else cared about, or stare without saying a word until someone uncomfortably ended the conversation. My job tonight was to just not screw up. To be normal enough that this wouldn’t be the only party I was invited to.
I wasprettysure I could do that.
A voice squawked through the box beside the heavy metal gate. “Can I help you?”
I nearly squealed back in fright.Okay, get a grip, Bethany.
I didn’t know the procedure or what I was supposed to say—open says me?—and it made me even more awkward than my usual self. “Uh, I brought wine.” I didn’t know the price of entry for this ride, but I was almost sure the voice in the box didn't care that I spent seventeen dollars on a bottle of vino.
The deep, dry voice replied after a few seconds. “There are no scheduled deliveries this evening.”
Great. Now they thought I was a delivery guy. So much for not embarrassing myself. “I’m Bethany Georgia Renwick.”
For cripes sake. Certainly, the guy in the box didn’t give a flying fool about my middle name. He was probably watching me from some hidden camera laughing at how I was doing a pee dance outside the privacy fence even though I didn’t have to pee. Although, of course, he wouldn’t have known that.
I had to get in there soon before even my thoughts devolved, and I took off running for home. Like a coward. Why was socializing so hard for me? The nerves were real. More so when I couldn’t remember if I’d done a deodorant check before or after I got to the gate. And I couldn’t remember if I’d done a booger check at all.
Just stop. You are not a teen anymore. You are a grown-ass woman with a grown-ass daughter in college. You got this!
“I was invited to the party tonight.” I tried again, feeling incredibly awkward. “It’s my first time at a party.”
Oh my gosh… did I just say that? For the love of… I’d been toaparty before!
I took a step away from the gate, the wine in my arms feeling strangely heavy. I looked back at the street and considered just bolting. This was worse than I’d imagined. What had made me think I’d do well at a Fascinator’s shindig. Somehow, I’d made myself sound like the biggest loser on the planet.
“I can just…” Go? Is that what I should say? Were they already gone? Had they called the police?
When the gate slid open and each side disappeared into a brick wall, I almost collapsed in relief. Then I remembered that I’d already screwed up and couldn’t do it again. It was time to be cool. I walked through in a big hurry, up the gravel driveway toward the house telling myself I belonged there with each step I took. The house sat on a hill and grew more imposing the closer I got. The door to this monster of a house looked to be a full story tall. Even in my fancy pleated shorts, I was probably underdressed. I should’ve worn the scarf and sweater.
The gate had already closed behind me, and by the time I realized I should run while I still could, I’d already knocked. I had no choice but to own it now.
When Esther opened the door, I forgot how to talk. Her curly hair had been straightened and put into a side ponytail, drawing attention to the bright pink strands. She wore a modern outfit that was a combination of a gray trench coat and a dress. It seemed to be made of some kind of leather that had taken years of work to beat into a buttery softness that looked achingly expensive.
Wow. Ohwow, was I underdressed.
