Chapter 15 Silk and Lies
SILK AND LIES
Penny
The bell over the door at Le Chat Noir chimed just as I stepped inside. A wealthy woman in mink thrust a garment bag across the counter.
“I really appreciate your understanding, Alicia,” she said.
“Of course we’ll make it right, Mrs. Whittaker,” my mother purred with a voice velvet-smooth from years of indulging clients like her.
“The lighting at that gala was dreadful—no wonder the color read wrong. It happens under the new LED lights. Your skin tone needs champagne, not pearl. In fact, next week I have a beautiful gown coming in that I think you’ll like. Shall I call you when it arrives?”
While Mom finished up, I stalked the boutique, recalling all those afternoons after school shining mirrors and fixtures until they gleamed, chores she always hated to do.
From the gold-edged glass to the crystal chandeliers, everything was familiar.
Even the faint scent of jasmine and steam meant she’d worked the steamer overtime all afternoon.
In the corner, Mom’s old onyx cat statue lorded over everything with judgement.
Mrs. Whittaker swept out, the bell tinkling in her wake. Mom flipped the sign to Closed, set her smile down like a prop, and muttered, “That woman could make Dior look discount.”
I half-heartedly chuckled, though I couldn’t agree with Mom’s pettiness. I picked up the returned dress from the counter and held it against myself in the mirror. The ivory silk caught light like liquid, the sleek, bias cut hinting at trouble.
“I actually love it,” I said. “Do I still get my employee discount?”
She arched a brow like a feline in its element. “If you can afford it on your doggie daycare salary, I might sell it to you at cost.”
The jab stung more than I wanted it to. We hadn’t really talked in a while, beyond quick texts and her forwarded memes of cats in sweaters. I held the dress over my body and lifted my chin.
“I can afford it now,” I said evenly. “I got a new job working with the Bellamy Brothers.”
Her gaze sharpened at once with more fine lines and deeper wrinkles than I remembered. Then again, I’d been used to living with and seeing Brier, her sister several years younger, but similar in looks with their brown hair and petite frame.
“The Bellamys? As in Archer Bellamy?”
“Yes.” Pride warmed my chest despite myself. “I finally did it, Mom. I landed a job in architecture.”
I thought she’d be happy for me.
Her red-stained mouth flattened. “Be careful, darling. That man has a history.” She punched keys on the computer to produce the day’s sales reports.
I hung the dress on the rack near the register, my throat tightening. “I know all about him and Brianne.”
“What he did to her… unforgivable.” She gave a brief, tragic sigh. “Oh, can you fold these scarves into the round bin for me?”
“What he did?” I moved to the bin.
“You don’t remember? Brianne had gotten pregnant.
Yes, she was seeing both Archer and Ted at the same time, but she wasn’t sure who the father was.
Archer refused a paternity test and cast her aside like dirt under his nails, leaving poor Brianne no choice but to lean on Ted to take on the responsibility of a family. ”
I froze. The click-click-click of her nails on the keyboard matched my pulse. My mind couldn’t process this shocking news.
No, Archer wouldn’t do that. He loved Brianne then—was shattered by her affair.
I saw for myself that night long ago when we sat on the stairs of the brownstone.
I’d heard from Brier how despondent he was when Brianne broke the news of the pregnancy.
I should know—I was the one trying to put him back together now after she ruined him.
“That’s not how it happened.” Heat climbed into my cheeks. “He was hurt for years because of her. A man who would turn down a paternity test wouldn’t pine away for her the way he did.”
She lifted one elegant shoulder. “Believe what you want. But don’t be na?ve—thinking a rich man’s affection equals love.”
Her words landed like a slap across the face. I abandoned the rest of the silk, hoping it would crumple in spite, then smoothed my face into neutral. I’d spent too many years learning not to let her see the bruises she left, though she never laid a hand on me.
I yanked the ivory dress off the rack. “I will take this after all. I know you just closed the register, but reopen it so I can give you my card.”
She did a complete double take, blinking like she couldn’t focus. Was she seeing her daughter or one of Steele Valley’s demanding guests? Her demeanor changed in an instant.
“Why, that’ll look lovely on you. The perfect color to complement your hair. And with a curvy body like yours, this bias cut is so flattering.” Of course, she turned on the false voice when money entered the chat.
After she’d bagged up the gown in a branded Le Chat Noir hanger bag, she glanced at the clock. “Well, I’m ready to leave. Can you give me a ride home? I loaned my car out.”
I took the bag and nodded, not caring about her car details. We were already off on the wrong foot.
With the flick of a switch, the chandeliers dimmed. The shop fell into half-shadow; the mirrors catching the light from the ornate lamps outside. Mom walked out, expecting me to follow. She always treated life like a runway and me like the inconvenient assistant who should keep up.
In the car, the radio stayed low until Mom filled the silence for both of us.
“You’ll never believe who I’ve been seeing,” she boasted. “A seven.”
Seven. Not a “Perfect 10” rating, but code for bank account size, as in the number of zeroes. A multi-millionaire.
“Tomas runs an import and export business. Vacation homes in Miami and Mexico. International real estate is the only honest investment left, according to him.”
I kept my eyes on the road as the wipers smeared a lace of frost from the windshield.
She narrated details of his luxury car, his designer watch, and his wine collection.
He’d taken up residence in a rented home in Steele Lake Estates for a while.
I recognized the name as one of Archer’s design-build collaborations.
Tomas’s numbers stacked up in the air between us. Always about money with her. Always the math of how much love costs.
“Sounds lucrative,” I muttered.
“He’s stable,” she said, as if that equaled safe. “Stability matters the older I get. I’m not young anymore. Not looking for love to sweep me off my feet.”
We pulled up at her place, and I noted her car in the driveway.
Whoever had borrowed it must have brought it back.
She directed me to park on the street. A golden glow across the snow cast out from the porch light of her Craftsman-style home.
I side-stepped a bike in the yard with a question on my face.
“Oh, don’t mind the mess. Bree’s kids just went back to their father’s for the week. She’s inside getting ready for a date. She’ll be so happy to see you,” she explained, unlocking the door.
“Bree? Kids?”
“Didn’t I tell you?”
The name meant nothing to me—but the familiarity in her tone warned me something was up.
We stepped into the entryway. Children’s boots and shoes lined the baseboard. A glossy purse sat on the console table, a designer logo visible.
I followed her into the living room—and stopped cold. I did not expect Brianne to be standing there. My mouth dropped.
“What the hell? Brianne?”
She turned away from an ornately framed mirror on the wall, and for a heartbeat my memory walked me backward to the same triumphant tilt of her chin, the practiced innocent eyes with nothing but lies behind them, the full mouth and white teeth made for perfectly filtered photographs.
“It’s Bree now,” she clipped, voice sugar and champagne. “Time for a new chapter in my life.”
Exquisite in a short blue gown, likely from Mom’s shop, her hair curled into highlighted waves, she looked anything but down-on-her-luck. Diamond studs winked from her earlobes. Expensive perfume surrounded her like she bathed in it.
“Don’t look so shocked, Penny. How’s Aunt Brier?”
“Uh, doing well.” I shook my head, my voice a shade too cool. “I didn’t know you were staying here.”
“Until I get back on my feet.” She returned to the mirror, fluffing her hair. “Helping Mom out at the shop while I sort life out. She helps watch the kids when I have them.”
She still called my mother Mom. I never once called her father Dad, even though he treated me kindly. Often better than my own blood.
“Ted and I are negotiating shared custody. The kids are with him this week. I’m itching to get out and really enjoy all that Steele Valley has to offer.”
My mother beamed at her as if she’d birthed her and she were the golden child. “Bree’s starting fresh. Doesn’t she look stunning?”
Heaviness settled in my stomach. Starting fresh in my mother’s world translated to finding a new rich man quickly. It had been the same since I was sixteen and she’d first tutored me on the importance of dating and marrying well. How did I survive—unless I took after my father, a man I never knew?
“You two are unbelievable,” I said, gaping between them. “Still scheming.”
“Don’t be unkind,” Mom scolded. “Life’s been hard on your sister.”
“She’s not my sister,” I shot back, before I could clamp my teeth. “And she’s not your charity case. Not even related to us—you’re under no obligation to help her.”
Mom’s face cooled a degree. “No matter. She’ll always be family. I support family.”
“You support her lies,” I said, voice shaking now that the box was open. “You always have.”
Brianne—Bree—brushed invisible lint from her skirt. “I think we should all take a step back and put a pin in this conversation for now.”
I snorted. “Unbelievable. I’m leaving.”
I headed for the door. A knock startled me.
“That’ll be Bree’s date,” Mom sang out like she could feel triumphant in their plan already.
Who the hell would be stupid enough…? I flung the door open.
“Holden?” My voice cracked between disbelief and dread.