I flashed the crowd my most dazzling smile. “I appreciate you all coming out tonight after what happened last time. I promise you there won’t be a repeat.” I paused and considered. “Well, I promise that I’ll do my best to make sure there won’t be a repeat. There’s only so much I can do. Anyway!” I pressed on before they could think too hard about what I’d said. “I wanted to start the evening with a moment of silence for Mr. Conrad Phlume. He was more than a murder victim, and he shouldn’t only be remembered that way.”
Unfortunately, it was hard to come up with nicer ideas about how he should be remembered, since nobody had liked him. I couldn’t even point out his grieving widow, because her attention was focused so keenly under her table that I knew her date’s foot was definitely somewhere it was not supposed to be. So I continued, “Nobody deserves to be murdered, and his death leaves a hole torn in the world that nobody will ever be able to sew up. Let us sit and remember him.”
Maybe that’s what the guests did—I didn’t know. Bibi was focused on her date’s inappropriate foot, and my mom was staring daggers at her, and Persimmon was chewing off her nails, and Gabe was sitting so rigid in his seat that if somebody tapped him on the head he might split down the middle. I took the moment to case the rest of the room, check out the exits, make sure they all lined up with what I remembered from my childhood games of hide-and-seek with Farrah and Jordan (who, last I’d seen in the group chat, were off partying in Bali for a friend’s birthday).
The moment ended. I continued, injecting as much brightness into my voice as I could. “His name will forever be attached to the building he donated to me.” Demonstrably false—names onbuildings had ways of being replaced once the original name had fallen out of collective memory or someone else donated more money—but the crowd murmured appreciatively anyway, probably because they liked the idea of their own named buildings staying like that forever. “And the entire city will be able to see it and enjoy it, because, with his widow’s blessing”—Bibi nodded at me, her eyes twinkling from her game of footsie, face dewy—“she’s officially signed the deed over to me so that I can donate the Conrad Phlume Memorial Library to the city.”
A murmur went up around the room. Denise Ryan raised her eyebrows, Kevin Miller muttered what looked like a curse under his breath, my parents leaned their heads into one another’s, and Cora smiled at me. I went on, “While going through the papers in the building’s basement, we discovered some fascinating records. We made them available to the city archivist, who deemed the building a historically significant site and expressed their wish to make the building a combination library and museum. They’ll be going through all the records with a fine-tooth comb and digging up information on all the people who lived there to create a time capsule of twentieth-century Chelsea society.”
All that was absolute garbage, but from the way people were nodding and murmuring, they didn’t know that. “Thank you, thank you. It’s not 100 percent official yet—I still have to sign the paperwork tomorrow morning at the courthouse. Hopefully nothing happens to me before then, because I don’t think my parents—my heirs—would be able to resist selling it for a bunch of money.” That got a laugh from the people who didn’t like my parents, which was a lot of people, and a sour look from my mom. My dad seemed to be focused on his phone again. Probably for the best. “I’m grateful that Conrad Phlume’s legacy will be able to be enjoyed not only by the students I’m helping with my nonprofits, but by everybody in the city he loved. Thank you, and I hope you have a wonderful night.”
I sailed back to my seat on the sounds of applause, slidinginto it with a modest smile before my plate of mostly untouched chicken. “What do you think?” Gabe asked, leaning in so that nobody but me and Vienna could hear. “Do you think it worked?”
I shrugged, trying not to let my deep inhale shake too much. “We’ll see soon enough.”
The rest of the night passed as galas tended to: lots of schmoozing, lots of mediocre champagne (sparkling apple juice for me; I had to stay on top of things), lots of persuading people to give a minuscule portion of their fortune to people whose entire life that minuscule portion would change. I kept busy, circling the room, pausing at a few points to discuss my after-party plans. “Oh, I don’t know,” I said with a pointed yawn each time. “I’m exhausted from planning this party on such short notice. I’m not really in the mood to go out. All I want to do is go home and go to sleep.” A glance toward the door, as if I could perceive the weather from this windowless room. “It’s such a beautiful night too.” Thank goodness it wasn’t raining. “I might just walk home.”
My parents sidled up to me toward the end of the evening, right when I was between schmoozes and the thought that I was about to put my life in great danger was nipping at my very fashionable heels. “Are you sure about donating that building?” my mom said. “You could sell it and have enough to fund your little organization for the rest of your life.”
I inclined my head modestly. “I’m absolutely, 100 percent sure. No person and no amount of money could change my mind.”
“She’s sure, Grace,” Dad said before Mom could try and argue with me more. “It’s her life. Her decision.”
“A poor decision,” my mom huffed. “But whatever. I suppose you’re an adult now. You’re allowed to make all the poor decisions you’d like.”
I glanced around. The room was clearing out, people off to their next party or to bed. “Speaking of poor decisions.” Gabe and Vienna were still here, obviously, chatting by one wall, keeping an eye on me. “The doorman who keeps letting you up to myapartment has been reprimanded. One more warning and he’ll lose his job.”
Mom’s mouth dropped open. “Pomona, I—”
“And I’ve changed the locks in case you manage to sneak by him anyway.” I kept my tone low but pleasant, so that hopefully anyone not actively nearby and listening in would think we were having a nice conversation. “You’re my parents. I want to have a relationship with you. Ideally a good one. But, God, you make it hard.”
“Pom—” my dad protested weakly, but I wasn’t done.
“Gabe is the love of my life, whether you like it or not. You need to accept it if you want a relationship with me. Do you understand? Stop saying mean things about him and trying to convince me that he’s not the right one for me, or we will be seeing very, very little of each other.”
“Pom—” they said at once. This time Iwasdone, but I didn’t want to hear whatever they were going to say.
“Do you understand?” I asked again. “All you need to say is yes or no.”
My mom’s face was mutinous, eyes roiling like lightning might come bursting out, but I was done caring. “Whatever. Fine.”
I would take that as a yes. “Good. Great.” We stood there staring at each other for a moment longer, but I didn’t really want to wait for that lightning to hit me. “Okay. See you soon.I’llcallyou. Because if you call me, maybe I won’t pick up.”
I excused myself, breath racing and heart pounding like I’d just won a marathon. Nicholas and Jessica accosted me before I could make it to Gabe and Vienna on the other side of the room. “Pom, did you just—”
“Yes, I did, and yes, I recommend it,” I told my brother. He knit his brows together in consternation. “I feel great now.” I felt kind of sick and shaky, actually—I was definitely never going to run a real marathon—but that wasn’t entirely due to theconfrontation with my parents; it was because of what lay ahead. “Imagine having boundaries.”
“Sounds amazing,” Jessica said wistfully. Poor Jessica. Well, if Nicholas’s coup succeeded, the bright side was that my parents probably wouldn’t want anything to do with her and him for a while.
“Sorry,” I told her, but Jessica stopped me with a hand on my arm. Jessica, this wasnotthe night. She smiled kindly at me, as if she could hear my tone and wanted me to know she forgave me for being so sharp at her in my head.
“Pom, I wanted to ask you something I’ve been meaning to ask for quite a bit. And this seems like the perfect night to do it, while we’re both dressed up like this.” Jessica tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. I ground my teeth with frustration. “Will you be my bridesmaid?”
Gabe’s eyes were bugging out toward me. Again, Jessica, this was not the time. I was honored and touched and everything, but I had a murder investigation to wrap up. “Unofficially, of course,” I told her. “But I’ll give you my formal response when you’ve presented me with your official request.” Her bug eyes echoed Gabe’s. I sighed. “You haven’t prepared bridesmaid boxes? I hope I’m the first one you asked. We’ll deal with it tomorrow, okay? Call me.”
“Okay,” Jessica said faintly as I pushed through her and my brother like a pair of doors. Gabe and Vienna waited, two of the last people in the room other than my family members (my mom was now publicly and noisily crying on the other side of the room, but I could see the absence of actual tears from here).
“Okay, Pom,” Vienna said, leaning in for cheek kisses that smelled like roses. I inhaled deep, reminding myself that roses were pretty but they also had thorns. “I’m going to head out. Are you ready?”
