Chapter 30
The sound of Sailor’s cries sent Ingrid into overdrive, her whole nervous system instantly calibrated to find Sailor. To get to her, to help her, no matter the cost.
She was also, simultaneously, formulating an excuse for what she was doing in the house, down in the garden level with Rill, so late at night.
It wasn’t time to let anyone else in the family know about her and Cas.
Or had Rill already told them? The thought of it made her want to shrivel to a speck of sand.
“You go out the side door and around, then up to the front.” Rill blew out the candle. “Let’s keep this little meeting between us, yes?”
“Yes.” She ran down the hall, slipped out the door that opened to the side courtyard, and let herself out by the gate.
Running around to the front of the house, she bounded up the stairs and stood close to the heavy front door.
Even before she saw anyone, she heard Scoot’s voice coming from somewhere in the house.
“I know what you’re doing, all of you!” Scoot was slurring her words, but loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“You brought her here to keep me quiet at the wedding! So I wouldn’t embarrass you all in front of all our friends!
You know when she’s around I’ll be on my best behavior!
I have to smile and pretend that my own family hasn’t betrayed me! ”
“Mother! Come on. What are you even talking about?” Sailor again. She’d gone into the dining room.
Ingrid pushed open the door. In the vast hall, the chandelier blazed, illuminating her reflection in the long, gold mirror. She pulled up short. She looked like a foraging raccoon, mascara smudged around her guilty-looking eyes, caught out by the trash cans.
She turned and saw Mrs. Leimberger, bare-faced and in a bathrobe, standing at the rear of the hall, appearing to have just come from the kitchen. She held a silver tray of Perrier water bottles and a crystal dish of limes.
Ingrid froze as the woman spied her. She had to be wondering what Ingrid was doing, bursting through the front door like that. Ingrid glanced up the staircase. She spied Cas, his head leaning over the banister, then retreating again.
And then came Rill, charging up from the lower level, jogging through the hall, nonchalant as anything.
Past Mrs. Leimberger and Ingrid without so much as a glance at either as he made a beeline into the dining room and the drawing room beyond.
The housekeeper’s eyes darted between Ingrid and Rill, but there was no time for questions because just then, from the other room, Scoot’s voice rose again.
“Wasn’t it enough that he never said he was sorry for bringing the first one over here, time and time again, to all of his parties? Was it not enough that he never stopped loving her …?”
“Mother—”
Ingrid heard Rill. “Scoot. You’re drunk …”
“That doesn’t mean I’ve lost my memory. I haven’t forgotten what you did! And now I have to hear that my son has feelings? I will not abide it! I absolutely will not!” There was an anguished wail, a loud thump, and then an even louder crash.
The sound galvanized both Mrs. Leimberger and Ingrid, the house manager in the direction of the crash and Ingrid back to the front door.
She had just put her hand on the ornate brass doorknob, thinking her best strategy was getting the hell out of the Loeffler house and letting the family handle Scoot, when she heard sobbing behind her.
She turned. Sailor, her face in her hands, stood in the hallway. Ingrid hesitated, torn between comforting her friend and putting herself in Scoot’s line of fire.
Too late. Sailor had lifted her head and seen her. “Ingrid, thank God, you’re here!” Sailor rushed to her, caught her with both hands, clamping her fingers around Ingrid’s forearm like forceps, and collapsed in her arms.
Ingrid held Sailor, looking over at the front door. Her only hope of escape. “Shh. It’s okay. I’m here.”
Sailor lifted her red, tearstained face. “You’ve got to help me.”
Another crash rang out from the drawing room. They both flinched, separating.
“Sailor, what is going on?” Ingrid asked.
“She’s lost her mind. She’s finally lost her mind!
” She fixed Ingrid with a piteous look. “Ingrid, you’ve got to do something.
Tell her that you’re truly my friend. That you’re here because you only want to help—” Now Sailor was dragging Ingrid toward the drawing room.
Toward the sound of Scoot’s braying voice and breaking glass.
Ingrid was literally prying Sailor’s fingers from her arm. “Sailor, no. No, I can’t. She doesn’t want to—”
Ingrid felt herself pushed into the drawing room where everyone—Rill, Mrs. Leimberger, and Scoot—turned to stare at her.
Scoot, standing on the far side of the room, in a wrinkled green-and-white striped pantsuit set, hair windblown and held back with huge black sunglasses, opened her arms wide, bangles clanking a demented accompaniment.
“Here ssshe isss, the witch!” She looked like hell.
Eyes glassy, face smeary. She had a drink in her hand—not one of the bottles of Perrier that Mrs. Leimberger had brought in, but a glass from the bar cabinet.
Mrs. Leimberger was busying herself near a sofa, sweeping up glass and porcelain shards of whatever Scoot had thrown against the wall.
Rill gave Ingrid a tired, apologetic look and rubbed his eyes with one hand. “Scoot, my God. Can you give it a rest, for the love …”
Scoot sloshed her glass in his direction. “You give it a rest. Or do you have the hots for this one, too?”
Sailor turned an imploring face to Ingrid. But Ingrid was not about to say a word. Anything she said at this point was only going to court more disaster.
“Jesus, Scoot.” Rill sent a weary look to Ingrid. “Sorry about this.”
“Don’t you dare apologize to that girl for me,” Scoot snapped.
“I say what I mean, and I mean what I say. And what I say is this … she”—the drink sloshed in Ingrid’s direction—“didn’t make anything happen.
I made it happen. All of it. Everything.
I worked my ass off to make this wedding perfect, and then she bops in and casts a spell and magically, poof, the flowers are suddenly available, the harpist is so thrilled to be a part of your special day, and Louise’s gown turns up especially for your third and least-important reception dress. ”
“Mother, Ingrid helped us,” Sailor said in a small but staunch voice.
Scoot whirled on her. “She did a spell, you stupid, stupid girl. And spells are pretend. The fact that you believe that what she did got you what you want instead of my hard work is just proof of how little you care for me!” Scoot thumped her chest, sobbing now.
“Your mother, who has been on the phone, emailing everyone, calling in every favor I’ve ever been owed …
I have worked my fingers to the bone for you.
So you will have the perfect day. But no.
You insist it’s all because this witch did a spell. ”
Ingrid felt something new now. A twinge of anger, black and thick, twisting through her like a snake. This woman had once hated Edie. And it was clear she hated Ingrid now. And neither of them deserved such terrible treatment.
Scoot gave her daughter a look of supreme pity. “Okay, little Miss Delusional, this is where you need to pay attention to what’s going on around you. This—this nonsense right here—is precisely why your father won’t let you near the C-suite at the office. Because you’re gullible. You’re weak.”
Ingrid caught her breath.
“That’s why your father won’t ever make you CEO,” Scoot snarled.
Sailor looked like she’d been slapped.
“He won’t do it because he doesn’t think you’re smart enough. He thinks you’ll drive Savannah Sauce into the ground and lose everything this family has. And you’ve proven him right by believing this person has done anything for you.”
Scoot lifted a haughty chin and smiled in triumph at Ingrid.