“You will have fun, and you will like it!” Sam told Zoey. “And not only that. You will be kind, courteous, friendly, and not someone who looks like a depressed person who wants to be anywhere but here.”
“But I would rather be anywhere else,” Zoey said.
“Ugh. It’s one day, Zoe. One day,” Sam said.
Samantha
The country club was stunning and already buzzing with guests. I glanced around and stared at the elite women in designer dresses and the wealthy men in sports coats and loafers. Servers walked around carrying trays of champagne for anyone who wanted a glass, or there was a bar fully stocked with top-shelf alcohol. Everything about this place seemed perfect and very intimidating.
“How much do you think these flowers cost?” I whispered to Wes.
“Trust me. You don’t want to know,” he smirked.
“Oh, but I definitely do.”
“Weston,” I heard someone call his name.
The smile that was on his face quickly disappeared before he even turned around. Turning around, a woman walked toward us with perfectly styled silver hair and an elegant cream pantsuit. She walked with grace, head heldhigh, and looked like she’d never spilled coffee on herself a day in her life.
“Grandmother.” Wes smiled, kissing her cheek.
She assessed me first. Then Zoey. It was more judgment. I could see it on her face. Suddenly, it felt very cold.
“Grandmother, I’d like you to meet Samantha and her daughter Zoey. This is my grandmother, Evelyn Castile.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I went to hug her, and she immediately backed away. Okay. She wasn’t a hugger. It didn’t surprise me.
“You as well,” she said without cracking a smile. “So, I hear you’re a high school English Literature teacher.”
“I am. It’s thrilling.” I grinned, and Zoey laughed.
“How long have you been teaching?” she asked.
“Ten years now.”
“I know teenagers these days. It must be tough to get them to even crack open one of those books,” she said.
“Oh, they read the books, and we talk about them. But they mostly ask me questions about my dating life.”
Zoey snorted, and I lightly kicked her ankle with my shoe.
“Your dating life?” Evelyn looked confused.
“It’s become a problem,” I said.
“A huge problem.” Zoey laughed.
“I see. So, what does one do with a degree in English Literature?”
And there it was. The question. The one rich people always asked because they knew how little teachers were paid.
Before I could answer, my lovely daughter, who had a problem keeping her mouth shut, chimed in.
“She teaches people how not to be idiots.”
I glanced at Weston, who was trying his best to hold back his laughter while staring up at the ceiling.
“Excuse me?” Evelyn stared at her.
