CHAPTER 13
The Alderton-Du Ponte fundraisers and galas were refined in a way that was almost movie-like, where people broke out their finest jewels and donned their most expensive dresses, and spent the evening throwing around money as if it were nothing more than tissues in their pockets.
They bragged about their pearls and their diamonds and their wallets, guffawed at the latest increase in their stock portfolio, and walked away lightly buzzed from the gossip and champagne.
But when there was a birthday party, it was like the gates of hell opened up, transforming the glitzy ballroom into nothing short of a nightmare.
Depending on whose birthday it was, the middle-aged socialites regressed to someone in their mid-twenties.
They drank more than they should’ve. Danced to club music in a way that made my skin crawl.
Dr. Conan was even doing shots.
“That’s going to kill him,” Daisy said, and watched as the sixty-year-old man threw back another shot of caramel vodka. His wife and a few others hooted encouragements. “Even if he’d only done one, I’d be worried. That’s his third.”
“Fourth,” I corrected. “He did one when you went to the bathroom.”
Daisy muttered an impressed curse. “They’re going to be so embarrassed when the Pembletons show up. Is it wrong to be excited to watch Dr. Conan fumble his way through a welcome speech?”
“Maybe. But you’re not alone.” He wasn’t the only one I was worried about, though.
Mrs. Holland, toward the middle of the dancefloor, was holding onto hands that did not belong to her husband, swaying her hips and sinking so low to the ground that I was sure she wasn’t going to be able to push back to her feet.
A horrifying sight, truly.
“My mom is going to be scandalized when she gets back,” I told Daisy, leaning my head on her shoulder. I’d pulled my chair up alongside hers at the table, basking in the comfort of my best friend’s presence amidst this madness. “How long does it take to pick up pizzas?”
Mom wasn’t the only one missing out on the raucous evening, though.
Despite it being his aunt’s birthday, Beck had yet to make an appearance.
Not that I was looking for him, of course.
It was just something I’d noticed. There was a sort of anxious unease about not being able to see Beck.
Not knowing where—or when—he’d pop up next.
If I didn’t have my back to the wall, I would’ve been nervous about him appearing over my shoulder.
“I’m surprised you’re still here,” I said, tipping my head to peer at Daisy.
Aside from the fact that Mom was out getting pizza, the only reason we were still here was because Mom was Ms. Jennings’s best friend, and if Mom left, there’d be no one to hold Ms. Jennings’s hair when she puked.
“I know your mom is watching the kids, but this can’t be your ideal night out. ”
“I’m always down for a little time out of the house,” she said in a light voice, but I heard the unspoken meaning behind it. I need a break. “However, watching Mrs. Holland grind is at the bottom of my list of things I’d like to do.”
“Face masks are better.”
“Ugh. Don’t even mention face masks. To think we could’ve been doing that instead…”
“You could come back to the house and stay the night.” I nestled into her arm. “We haven’t done that in ages. Remember last time, when you fell asleep on Jamie’s floor instead of mine?”
“You should’ve woken me. Your rug is much comfier than his wooden floors.”
“He wouldn’t let me. Said you looked too peaceful.”
She snorted and then pulled back enough that I had to lift my head off her shoulder. Her eyebrows were up. “So, is tonight the night we finally commence Operation Dr. Pembleton? I feel like we haven’t really talked about it.”
Right, because according to Carter’s DM I’d gotten ten minutes ago, he and his parents had already left their house. It was strange—I felt more anxious than excited. “I think so.”
“Hey, at least compared with everyone else, you’ll make a fabulous first impression.” She reached over and patted my knee. “Don’t sweat it, Nell.”
I shouldn’t have been sweating it. The plan I’d had for Senior Night was still applicable here—knock the socks off Dr. Pembleton and get on his list at Mullhound.
The only problem now was that I wasn’t sure how Carter would introduce me—as a friend or as a potential girlfriend—and that unknown variable had my palms feeling clammy.
Eleanor, how do you feel about me?
I think you’d be perfect for what I need.
“Has anyone thrown up yet?” Jamie suddenly slumped down onto the seat beside Daisy. He was wearing jeans tonight, not dress pants, and the top three buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned. Which was strange. If Jamie ever had a button undone, it was only one. “Dr. Conan looks like he’s close.”
“I reckon Mrs. Johnson is closer,” Daisy said, leaning closer to him so he could hear above the music. “I don’t even want to know what number drink that is in her hand.”
Jamie glanced at Daisy. “Wanna make a bet?”
“Oh, you are so on.” They shook hands, and Daisy’s eyes caught at his unbuttoned buttons. “Going for a new look?”
Jamie glanced down, scrambling to do his shirt. “No. It was an accident.”
I leaned forward. “You accidentally unbuttoned three buttons of your shirt?”
Even with the dim lights, it was easy to see his face begin to flush. “Raelynn—she came into the library—and—and she—”
“Unbuttoned your shirt?” Daisy and I demanded in unison, my eyebrows flying up, hers slamming down.
“Wait, Raelynn’s here?” I asked, only because I hadn’t seen anyone from the usual ADP teen crew show up yet. “Is Lydia?” Is Beck?
“What is she doing, touching you?” Daisy leaned away from Jamie. “Why are you letting her?”
“She came in while I was reading!” His shoulders rose, as did his voice. “And she sat down, started talking, m-mentioned how I looked warm—”
Daisy stood up suddenly from the bench, tilting her neck from side to side as if she were cracking it. “Maybe someone needs to teach her about personal space.
Jamie caught Daisy’s upper arm before she could whisk away. “Don’t make a scene.”
Looking at Jamie, I couldn’t quite tell if Raelynn’s advances were unwelcome or not.
His expression, as he looked at Daisy, was hard to read.
Sure, we all knew that Raelynn had the biggest crush on Jamie—and poked fun with him about it from time to time—but it struck me then that I didn’t really know if my brother liked her back.
Daisy stared up at him almost defiantly, and I wondered if she realized Jamie had spread his legs a little so he was lower to her.
I wondered if he realized that, or if it was something he’d learned to do subconsciously.
A beat passed, and I wondered, again, as if remembering, if they’d ever had their conversation about NYU yet, or if it was still something prickly and unsaid beneath the surface.
Given the fire in Daisy’s eyes, I’d say the latter.
“Don’t you know?” Daisy reached up and pushed the bridge of Jamie’s glasses, shoving them back up his nose from where they’d slid down to look at her. “I’m the queen of making scenes.”
Then she wrenched herself free, tearing off toward the ballroom door to the tune of “G.D.F.R.” by Flo Rida. Ancient. But slightly amusing. Jamie watched her go with a strange look on his face, hand clenching at his side.
“People would think she’s jealous,” he muttered, more to himself than me.
“Territorial, more like it. You’re like one of her siblings—she’d go to war for any one of them.”
For a moment, Jamie almost looked sick.
“You should go with her,” I suggested. “Make sure she doesn’t rip any of Raelynn’s extensions out.”
“You’re not coming?”
“I’m waiting for Carter.”
“He’s coming?”
I checked my phone. Still no other message. “He’ll probably be here any minute, honestly.”
Jamie nodded slowly, and then merged into the crowd of dancing middle-aged socialites to hurry after Daisy.
I sat by myself with my hands in my lap, the pulse of the music making the ballroom feel more like a nightclub. The sun had set a while ago, so the glass ceilings only showed darkness. I peered up at them, unable to see any stars.
I was just looking at the stars.
You’re always looking at the stars.
Ever since Beck had gotten back to town, the memory of the garden would not leave me alone. Stop, I wanted to say. Stop showing up when you’re not supposed to. Stop making me look for you when I shouldn’t even be thinking about you. Stop filling my head.
I shoved to my feet, unable to sit still any longer. I decided I’d follow after Jamie and Daisy, or wait for Carter in the entryway, or pace the halls, because sitting and letting Beck take root in my head was the last thing I should ever be doing.
I stepped out of the path of a stumbling Mrs. Johnson, who had two plastic cups in her hands. She took sips from both. I wondered, distantly, if any of them would feel embarrassed at the next event—most likely not. They’d have to remember this evening to feel embarrassed.
The music still pulsed into the hallway, but the further I got, the more the sound became something similar to a heartbeat. By the time I reached Alderton-Du Ponte’s entryway, Flo Rida was almost drowned out entirely.
Which was a good thing, because when I turned the corner, I found Carter and Lydia standing underneath the entryway’s chandelier, their voices low.
I reeled back around the corner, pressing my spine to the wall. Immediately, I doubted what I’d seen. Surely Carter’s head wasn’t as close to Lydia’s as it looked. Surely they weren’t having some sort of rushed, secret exchange. Surely not.
Pulling off the wall, I inched back to the corner, peeking around it.