Evelyn’s eyes moved across the crowd with the brisk, assessing efficiency of someone taking inventory. When they landed on me, I felt the distinct sensation of being catalogued. She was one hundred percent remembering that I didn’t know how to hold a coup glass.
Our little group shuffled in and greeted the committee members.
“Harper Bergeron,” Evelyn said, extending a hand cool and dry as parchment. “Odette's girl. I do hope Midnight House is treating my guests well.”
“They’re very comfortable,” I said. “Thank you for the recommendation.”
Evelyn and the rest of the committee had allowed Midnight House to be on the Society’s website as a place to stay for out-of-town gala attendees. I was always looking for ways to fill my rooms.
“I don’t make recommendations lightly.” Her gaze slid, briefly, deliberately, over my shoulder—to Reginald, who had reappeared, mint julep in hand, then Taylor, then Allison, then Vivienne, each glance lasting exactly as long as it took to make its point before moving on. “I find it useful, keeping certain people close. Under one roof, so to speak. Makes the weekend so much more efficient.”
There was something in the way she said it that didn’t sound like she meant logistics. I also didn’t understand the connection between these four guests. They were all random as far as I was concerned.
“I have no idea what you mean,” I said, before I could stop myself, because not only am I hilarious I kind of like to get to the point.
Evelyn's smile didn't waver, but something sharpened behind it. "Let's just say I've found that when the right people are gathered in the right place, the truth has a way of finding its own moment to come to light."
“Truth is stranger than fiction,” Allison commented.
I frowned. Vivienne gave an indelicate snort before covering her mouth with her hand and coughing.
Evelyn was unfazed, her gaze flicking once more toward my little cluster of guests, lingering half a second longer on Reginald than seemed accidental. "Don't you find that, Harper? That things have a way of rising up, given enough time and proximity?"
"I’ve heard that about sourdough," I said, aiming for lightness. "It really feels like bread is having a moment."
It didn't land the way I wanted it to. Evelyn's laugh was brief, polite, and entirely without warmth.
"Charming," she said, in a tone that suggested she found it anything but. Then her gaze moved past me, already tracking the next arrival, already recalibrating for the next transaction. "Enjoy the gala, Ms. Bergeron. Do try the juleps. Family recipe. Silver straws, if you can believe it. Great-grandmother's set. I insisted we use the real ones tonight. Some things ought to be done properly, or not at all."
How many silver straws did one family have?
I nodded because I didn’t know what to say to that.
“Hate to be the poor bastard who has to wash those,” Taylor commented.
“I would hate for you to be a lot of things,” Evelyn remarked, enigmatically. Then she was gone, sweeping toward a cluster of arriving guests aka donors with her hand already extended, her smile already recalibrated.
“That was a class act dressing down,” Taylor said, nodding his approval. “She insulted me without actually insulting me. She could claim she was being nice, ya know? Masterful.”
He did look genuinely impressed.
Reginald's jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on Evelyn's retreating back. Allison had the sharp, unblinking focus of someone taking mental notes for a chapter she hadn't written yet. Vivienne, camera lowered now, wasn’t looking in Evelyn’s direction. She was wandering toward the staircase, her hand reaching out to stroke the balustrade.
"She's something," I said, mostly to fill the silence.
"That's one word for it," Reginald muttered.
Somewhere out on the terrace, glasses clinked, laughter rose and fell, and the string quartet slid into something even more unhurried, as if the whole glittering evening had all the time in the world.
I had a feeling it didn't.
Or maybe I just wanted to go home already.
One issue with my rental van—I couldn’t ditch early if I wanted to since I had to drive everyone back to Midnight House.
I briefly wondered what Teddy was doing at home then realized that me wondering about my pet skunk when I was at an elaborate shindig was slightly pathetic.
There was no doubt in my mind Teddy wasn’t wondering about me. He was either sleeping or working on the lid to the container that held his treats.
