Chapter 2 #2
I glanced over at my textbook, curiosity making me itch to see what was causing Prue to act so strangely. The fear of upsetting Mother by making her wait quickly smothered that itch and had me moving out of the room.
Grabbing the handrail, I carefully made my way downstairs.
I could feel Clay’s gaze on me, heavy and unsettling.
I kept my eyes on Mother, who had changed her clothes while I was getting ready.
She was wearing a form-fitting beige cocktail dress that was knee-length and had cap sleeves.
She had also put her golden blonde hair up into a French twist. Her attention was glued to her phone until I reached the bottom of the stairs.
I didn’t expect her eyes to light up or seem happy when she saw me, and they didn’t.
She looked me up and down for flaws. Nothing more.
“You should have used a pink lipstick.” Her eyes dropped to my waist. “Do your best not to indulge tonight. You could lose at least five more pounds.”
I kept my hands at my sides despite the urge to cover my stomach.
According to my doctor, I was already underweight and needed to gain rather than lose.
I didn’t know who to believe. Appearances and reputation were very important to Mother.
We had to be perfect to the outside world. I had to be perfect.
I just nodded.
Seeming satisfied with that, she returned her attention to her phone.
Clay opened the front door for us to leave.
Mother walked out first. Again, I could feel Clay’s eyes on me.
I kept my focus on the ground as we walked down the stone steps in front of our house to the round red brick driveway, where Mother’s white Bentley Flying Spur was waiting.
I refused to acknowledge Clay’s existence as much as I could as we climbed into the car and for the entire drive to the Carmichaels’.
The Carmichaels’ house was impressively large, but as Mother pointed out as we pulled into their long driveway that circled a beautiful fountain, it wasn’t as big as our house.
Not many houses in Summerhaven were. We were Kendrys.
That was what Mother would always say, as if that explained why we had what we had and were revered the way we were.
Our family—my late father’s family—had been one of the first settlers in Summerhaven and helped make the city what it was today.
It was why my school, the bridge, and other buildings throughout the city bore the Kendry name.
Most days, I didn’t know if being a Kendry was a good thing, but my last name garnered a lot of respect, especially on the northern side of the bridge.
Without a doubt, Mother loved the Kendry name and the status it gave her more than she had ever loved my father.
Sadly, I was pretty sure my father had known that, too, before he was killed.
I wondered if Clay knew she would never marry him.
Sure, she enjoyed him, but she would never forfeit the Kendry connection for him.
The large double front doors to the Carmichaels’ house opened as we climbed the few stone steps leading up to them.
Sharon and Bill Carmichael stepped out as if they had been waiting by the window, eager for us to arrive.
They greeted us, mainly Mother and Clay because they were walking in front of me, with smiles and an enthusiastic welcome.
The whole situation reeked of bullshit. I’d been around enough fakeness in my life to know how to spot it.
Sharon Carmichael was a beautiful middle-aged woman who looked like she aspired to be a Stepford wife.
Her dress was pale yellow with a white belt, and she completed the outfit with pearl jewelry and white leather pumps.
Her long hair was the color of caramel, the same shade as her son’s, and was curled to perfection in a half-up half-down style that was similar to mine.
Bill Carmichael looked to be at least ten years older than his wife. He had salt-and-pepper hair that was short and slicked back. He wore a light blue suit, sans tie, and a white dress shirt underneath with the top two buttons undone.
Even though the Carmichaels were very welcoming, their smiles didn’t reach their eyes, and their words seemed rehearsed.
Mother and Clay greeted them back in the same fashion, but their bullshit acting was better.
Mother was overly thankful for the invite.
The eager, determined look in her eyes while she spoke made me uncomfortable.
As soon as they finished with their greetings, both Sharon’s and Bill’s eyes shifted to me. Mother and Clay stepped to the side as if presenting me or giving the Carmichaels a better view.
Sharon’s eyes took all of me in quickly while her husband’s gaze was slower, as if taking stock. The fake smile Sharon had been holding seemed to turn genuine, but not in a kind way. She looked pleased with what she saw. “You must be Charlotte.”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Carmichael.” I glanced toward Bill and found him still looking me over. “And you, Mr. Carmichael.”
“You’re polite. That’s good,” Bill said, not in a complimentary way.
Sharon’s smile dropped slightly at her husband’s comment, but she quickly realized and corrected herself. “And as beautiful as your pictures.”
“Pictures?” The word fell past my lips before I could stop it. Is she talking about my pictures on my socials?
Mother grabbed my upper arm, her grip tight, her warning clear. “Yes. I showed them some pictures of you.”
Everything about that was out of character for her. I couldn’t imagine her showing off pictures of me like a proud mother.
“Brandon has told us a lot about you, too. He’ll be down any minute.” Sharon turned slightly, gesturing toward the front door. “Let’s head in. Dinner will be ready soon.”
Something wasn’t right. I wanted to question so many things. Mother’s hand still latched to my arm helped remind me to keep my mouth shut.
As we were led through the Carmichaels’ house, Clay made small talk with Bill and Mother complimented Sharon on the look of her home.
I was sure Mother was comparing everything the Carmichaels had to what we had.
I prayed to whatever deity would listen that she didn’t see anything she found enviable.
She was spoiled. I didn’t know a better way to describe her than that.
She wanted everything she had to be better than what others had and spent tons of my late father’s money to make sure she did.
And if she couldn’t…well, she didn’t throw herself on the floor screaming like a spoiled brat, but I would have preferred that.
No, she threw a tantrum in a different way.
She fed her jealousy and frustration with gin until it grew into something she couldn’t contain and then she would come looking for me.
The Carmichaels had a nice-looking home, I supposed.
The interior design was contemporary, with whites, tans, grays, and small hints of vibrant colors like blue and gold here and there.
To be honest, I forgot all the rooms and spaces as soon as we passed them.
I didn’t care. I just wanted to know why we were here.
The moment we filed into the formal dining room, which was also a contemporary design with a long black table, plush white upholstered chairs, and a glass-and-metal chandelier hanging in the center of the room, house staff began taking our drink orders.
Of course, Mother asked for her gin with a splash of lime, and before I could even open my mouth to say what I wanted, she spoke for me. “She’ll have water.”
Brandon showed up then, his Ivy League style caramel hair still damp as if freshly showered. He was dressed in tan slacks and a baby blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled almost to his elbows. “Sorry I’m late.”
I knew Brandon as well as I knew most of my fellow students—that is, superficially.
He was the pitcher for Kendry Academy’s baseball team, which was astronomically better than its football team.
He was also our school’s golden boy and seemed friendly with everyone.
We hung out in the same social circles, saw each other at parties, had even talked a handful of times.
In the past, he had asked to hang out. I knew he had been interested in me, but I didn’t feel the same.
Sharon stared at her son like he’d hung the moon. “No worries, honey. They just got here.”
Brandon’s amber eyes, which matched his father’s, flicked right to me. A boyish grin took over his face. “Hey, Lottie.”
I forced a smile. “Hello.”
Their house staff returned with our drinks and placed them at our assigned seats. Bill sat at the head of the table with his wife to his right and Brandon sitting next to her. Mother was sitting to Bill’s left. I was seated between Mother and Clay, directly across from Brandon.
The delicious smell of food hit my nose the moment the first course was brought in.
It smelled so good that I became very aware of the hollowness in my stomach.
The chef explained the first course as a delicate salad with romaine, chopped asparagus, snap peas, radish, and pan-seared shrimp.
He went on to talk about the dressing, but as soon as one of the staff placed mine in front of me, I stopped listening.
It was a small salad artfully placed in the center of a large white plate.
Three small, peeled shrimp lay on top of the salad with their tails touching.
The smell of ginger and other spices in the dressing filled my nose and made my mouth water.
“Enjoy,” I heard the chef say before leaving.
I looked around at everyone as I lifted my fork slowly. They all began eating. When I glanced at Mother, I found her already staring at me. She gave me a stern look that reminded me to be mindful of how much I ate before she began digging into her own salad.