Chapter Twenty-Eight
Reed
“You’re saying I should hop over that fence and pickle the Beast?”
—Benny “the Jet” Rodriguez, The Sandlot
Shit. I hated that voice.
Eliza and I spun around. My stomach lurched as I came face-to-face with none other than Viola “Greedy” Gratton. Of course she was here. She’d probably get enough dirt on people today to last her through at least Thanksgiving.
Maybe that was why these women wore such big hats at these things? Easier to spy on one another. Hide their beady, judgmental eyes.
TJ hummed a dramatic “dun-dun-dun” before Lauryn elbowed him in the ribs. Eliza stuck out her hand and said, “Hello, Ms. Gratton. So nice to see you.”
Damn. That almost sounded sincere. She was good.
“Eliza Crowley.” Ms. Gratton gave her hand a little squeeze. “I so miss seeing you at our book club gatherings, but I hear you’ve been…busy.” Her eyes narrowed and gave me a once-over like I was some kind of prized meat in the butcher-shop window. Or more like the kind of meat about to expire.
Eliza gestured to me. “This is—”
“Reed Fulton.” Ms. Gratton stuck out her lace-covered hand. “It’s been a long time, honey.”
Does the lace keep her snake venom away or will it still soak through her skin? “It has.” I shook her hand firmly. “Last time I saw you I think I was eight or maybe nine years old.”
Ms. Gratton’s fake smile turned into a thin line. “That’s right. That was the summer I lost my prized petunias.”
Sweet tea sprayed out of TJ’s mouth like a broken fountain. “Dude, that was you?”
“Oh my God, TJ. Do you have any self-control?” Lauryn pressed a napkin to his face.
I fought my own laugh as I spoke to Ms. Gratton. “I’m truly sorry about that, ma’am.”
Sorry your little yipping dog stopped me before I could go after your roses too.
Almost ten years ago, I found Nana aggressively weeding in one of her flower beds and had asked her what was wrong.
She had told me Viola Gratton bullied the town council into voting the Fultons out of their stand at the farmer’s market because of “past discrepancies.” It was the first and only time I had ever heard Nana say the word “horseshit.” I had never been prouder and more pissed at the same time in all my life, so I got on my bike and the rest was history.
Ms. Gratton cleared her throat. “Yes, well, flowers grow back, I suppose. Mr. Mosely’s head, however, could not.”
“Mr. Mosely?” I asked.
“My poor garden gnome.” She took a sip from her champagne flute. “Less than a month after your accident with my flowers, someone decapitated him.”
TJ snorted into his glass as Ms. Gratton grabbed some funky-looking hors d’oeuvres from the tray of the closest waiter.
I turned my head and whispered to him, “You?”
“I would never, Fulton,” he mumbled in a slow Southern drawl.
Ha! Nice.
Eliza stepped forward. “You do have the prettiest flowers in town, Ms. Gratton.”
Probably fertilizes them with the blood of her enemies.
Ms. Gratton beamed. “Thank you, dear.” She waved over another waiter and grabbed a new glass from his tray. “Now, your daddy tells me that you’re doing theater this summer. What part are you?”
“I’m not on the stage. I’m in charge of lighting design,” Eliza said.
“Oh.” Ms. Gratton frowned. “I thought he meant you were in the play. What a pity.”
“She is in the play.” I took Eliza’s hand. “Eliza’s amazing with the lighting.”
“It’s true,” Lauryn added. “Without her, the mood would be entirely different.” She smiled and nodded at me before we continued facing off against our shared nemesis.
“Did you ever perform on the stage, Ms. Gratton?” Eliza asked.
“Me? On the stage?” Ms. Gratton’s shrill laugh made my skin crawl. “Heavens, no, dear. In my time, that was reserved for the more…free-spirited kinds. The ones who blew whichever way the wind took them, or to whomever it took them. Ones like your grandmother, Eliza.”
My free hand tensed. God, I wish I had a baseball right about now. It always chilled me out.
Nana loved Eliza’s grandmother, and while I only knew her mostly in passing, I’d be damned if I was going to let this viper say shit at her party. “I heard Marguerite Crowley was incredible on the stage,” I said.
Eliza beamed at me and mouthed a silent Thank you.
“Oh, she was, Mr. Fulton. She was.” Ms. Gratton took a sip of her drink. “Pity Eliza didn’t follow in her footsteps.”
Jesus Christ, this woman had no chill.
Lauryn stepped away from TJ and flanked the other side of Eliza like a protective mama bear. “The real pity would be if Eliza had followed in her footsteps. We need someone strong like her in the booth,” she said.
“Oh, of course.” Ms. Gratton tipped her glass to Lauryn and then waved someone over from behind us.
“I hear you’re quite the pitcher, Mr. Fulton,” she said.
Great. Now it’s my turn.
“Eh, he’s okay,” TJ mumbled before grabbing a forgotten cookie from the nearest table and shoving it into his mouth.
I forced a small smile. “I’m doing all right. Thank you.” My phone buzzed a couple of times in my back pocket. I turned away and snuck a quick look.
Brett: Have you seen Ben?
Brett: He didn’t come to the house again last night.
Fuck. I totally forgot to call him back. And what the hell does Brett mean by “again”?
I tried responding, but Eliza pulled me back toward the conversation. “Reed, Ms. Gratton was just asking about this season.”
“Yes. I’m wonderin’ how someone as young as you is handlin’ all the pressure?” Ms. Gratton flicked a piece of her fake blond hair behind her shoulder. “What with what happened last year at that showcase…”
“Not to mention with everything your grandparents have invested into this tournament.” Chad Dupont appeared at Ms. Gratton’s side dressed in a light gray suit.
Who wears a suit in the dead of summer, anyway?
“I thought my dad told me you couldn’t come?” Eliza asked him.
“Change of plans.” He winked at her, and I definitely wanted a baseball now. But not to calm me down.
“I take it a day at a time,” I replied to Ms. Gratton’s meddling. My jaw felt so tight, it hurt to say the words. “Do you play, Chad?”
He laughed, and my fingers itched. “No. I play golf and water polo.”
TJ snorted. “Of course you do.”
Chad’s smug face turned to stone. “Did you say something, TJ?”
TJ stood straighter and for one wonderful moment, I thought I’d get to see Chad Dupont get his ass kicked, but sadly Ms. Gratton stepped in. “Oh, I do love baseball. America’s pastime, right boys?” She clicked her tongue. “What I don’t love are surprises. I’m a fan of tradition, you see.”
Now it was Eliza’s turn to squeeze my hand.
“I’m not sure I follow you,” I said.
“Fairfield has always had one team. One team for our small town to be proud of. One team that has always represented the best interests in Fairfield.” Ms. Gratton took a step closer to me.
Her heavy perfume made my nose itch. “What will happen to our great town if new management takes over? What kinds of people may move here then, I wonder?”
“What kinds of people”? “I think my family would do a damn good job at the helm, ma’am.” Several people near us stopped talking. An older couple gasped.
What?
Did I speak too loudly?
Were you not supposed to curse at these things?
Eliza released my hand and leaned in closer to Ms. Gratton. “What he meant to say was—”
“Exactly what I said.” I downed the rest of my glass and slammed it on the empty cookie plate. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I forgot something in my truck.”
Screw this. And screw all these fancy-ass people with their fancy hats and fancy drinks.
I stepped around Ms. Gratton and stormed toward the gate that led to the front yard, but a strong hand grabbed my elbow.
“Enjoying yourself, Reed?” Mr. Crowley held a shorter glass with something that smelled a lot stronger than lemonade.
“Absolutely.” I stared past him toward my escape. Only ten feet away. So close to freedom. “I just wanted to grab something from my truck.”
Like one fucking moment of peace and quiet, for starters.
But Mr. Crowley put a heavy arm around my shoulder.
“Before you head that way, I’d love to introduce you to the governor.”
“I’m sorry, did you say the governor? She’s here?” Was the president swinging by too?
“She and the senator are by the band. Come with me.” He started steering me toward the small group near the musicians, and every part of me began to sweat. I didn’t come here to rub elbows with the fucking governor and a bunch of politicians. Come to think of it, why the hell did I come here?
“Reed!” Eliza appeared at my side. “Dad, can I steal him for a moment?”
Yes. Please steal me away. Now.
“Don’t you want to introduce him to our friends?” Mr. Crowley took a drink and nodded toward the band.
Eliza made a face. “They’re not our friends, Dad. They just show up every year because you donate to their campaigns.”
“Money is always the best influence, honey,” he said.
“Funny.” I stood up straighter. “I thought honor was.”
Eliza grabbed my hand and started pulling me away. “We’re just going to take a break from the party for a bit. Come on, Reed.”
No argument here. A break from all this sounds great right about now.