Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Weston
I knocked on Sam’s door at approximately ten fifty. For some reason, I had a habit of being early when it came to her. The door opened, and I smiled when Zoey stood there in a short floral dress.
“You look suspiciously happy,” she said, opening the door wider.
“Good morning to you, too.” I grinned, stepping inside.
“I’m just saying. Nobody should smile that much before noon.”
“You look nice,” I said.
“Thanks. Is this fancy enough for your country club?”
“It’s perfect.”
The apartment smelled like coffee and cinnamon, reminding me of the cinnamon rolls from Avila’s.
“Is your mother ready?”
“No.” Zoey laughed.
“Of course not,” I sighed.
“She’s been trying on outfits for the last forty minutes.”
“Forty?” I cocked my head.
“Four-zero.” She popped her lips.
“I find that hard to believe since your mother is the least high-maintenance woman I’ve ever met.”
“I can hear you, Wes!” Sam shouted from the bedroom.
“Are you excited to go?” I asked Zoey.
“I’d rather have a root canal,” she said.
“Fair enough.” I nodded.
“Why am I going to this?”
“Because I thought you’d have a good time. What’s wrong with the country club?”
“Everything.” She turned to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. “It’s a giant field full of stuck-up rich people who look down on people like my mom and me. Plus, the men wear white pants. No man should ever wear white pants.”
“I’ll remember that.” I smiled. “And nobody is going to look down on you. I promise.”
“You can’t speak for all the rich people. But I guess I have no choice.”
“There will be a lot of games there to keep you occupied.”
“I won’t know anyone. I’ll be bored.”
“You’re a teenager. You’re always bored no matter what,” Sam said, stepping into the living room.
My breath caught in my throat when I saw her. She looked beautiful.
“Forty minutes, eh?” I asked Sam.
“I’m a woman. You’re lucky it didn’t take longer.” She grabbed her purse.
We climbed into the back of the car, and I introduced Zoey to Ben.
“Ben, this is Zoey. Zoey, my driver Ben.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
“And you as well, Miss Zoey.”
We pulled up to the country club where the elite were gathered for today’s event. Stepping out of the car, I helped Zoey first, then Sam.
“I think I may have thrown up a little in my mouth,” Zoey said.
“As long as you keep it there, we’re good,” I smirked.
“You will have fun, and you will like it!” Sam told Zoey. “And not only that. You will be kind, courteous, friendly, and not someone who looks like a depressed person who wants to be anywhere but here.”
“But I would rather be anywhere else,” Zoey said.
“Ugh. It’s one day, Zoe. One day,” Sam said.
Samantha
The country club was stunning and already buzzing with guests.
I glanced around and stared at the elite women in designer dresses and the wealthy men in sports coats and loafers.
Servers walked around carrying trays of champagne for anyone who wanted a glass, or there was a bar fully stocked with top-shelf alcohol.
Everything about this place seemed perfect and very intimidating.
“How much do you think these flowers cost?” I whispered to Wes.
“Trust me. You don’t want to know,” he smirked.
“Oh, but I definitely do.”
“Weston,” I heard someone call his name.
The smile that was on his face quickly disappeared before he even turned around. Turning around, a woman walked toward us with perfectly styled silver hair and an elegant cream pantsuit. She walked with grace, head held high, and looked like she’d never spilled coffee on herself a day in her life.
“Grandmother.” Wes smiled, kissing her cheek.
She assessed me first. Then Zoey. It was more judgment. I could see it on her face. Suddenly, it felt very cold.
“Grandmother, I’d like you to meet Samantha and her daughter Zoey. This is my grandmother, Evelyn Castile.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I went to hug her, and she immediately backed away. Okay. She wasn’t a hugger. It didn’t surprise me.
“You as well,” she said without cracking a smile. “So, I hear you’re a high school English Literature teacher.”
“I am. It’s thrilling.” I grinned, and Zoey laughed.
“How long have you been teaching?” she asked.
“Ten years now.”
“I know teenagers these days. It must be tough to get them to even crack open one of those books,” she said.
“Oh, they read the books, and we talk about them. But they mostly ask me questions about my dating life.”
Zoey snorted, and I lightly kicked her ankle with my shoe.
“Your dating life?” Evelyn looked confused.
“It’s become a problem,” I said.
“A huge problem.” Zoey laughed.
“I see. So, what does one do with a degree in English Literature?”
And there it was. The question. The one rich people always asked because they knew how little teachers were paid.
Before I could answer, my lovely daughter, who had a problem keeping her mouth shut, chimed in.
“She teaches people how not to be idiots.”
I glanced at Weston, who was trying his best to hold back his laughter while staring up at the ceiling.
“Excuse me?” Evelyn stared at her.
“Those books are basically about people making terrible decisions. My mom teaches them how to recognize those terrible decisions.” Her head moved from side to side. “Honestly, she could probably teach a class here.”
Wes snorted as he brought his fist up to his mouth, while I stood there completely mortified.
“Interesting,” Evelyn said.
“Oh, it gets better. My mom made her students archetype Weston.”
“What does that even mean, child?”
“Who is he more like? Gatsby or Mr. Darcy?”
“Excuse me?” she said.
“I need to use the restroom. You’re coming with me.” I grabbed hold of Zoey’s arm and dragged her with me. “Which way?” I turned to Wes.
“Keep going straight and make a right. Bathrooms are on the left,” he said.