Chapter 10 Janie
JANIE
Claire
Janie
Traffic! I’m almost there.
Claire
What traffic? Aspen Springs only has two traffic lights.
Claire
You’re still in the shower, aren’t you.
Janie
15 minutes, istg. Is Nisha coming with you?
Claire
Are you kidding? The terms of our prenup state two events a year. Any more than that is grounds for divorce. I’m not wasting one event on a frickin’ garden party. I’m saving it for something that really makes us suffer.
My sister hated these fancy fundraising parties as much as I did, but she was so much better at them than I was.
It was such a joke that she was two years younger than me, because she was born with eldest daughter energy, whereas Mom still warned me to get my bad out first so I wouldn’t embarrass her in front of her friends and Dad’s business associates.
But this time, my parents would have nothing to complain about.
I had stayed up late reading everything I could get my hands on regarding the farming bill that was scheduled for Congress before the August recess—that would make Dad happy.
And then I had chosen an outfit that even Mom couldn’t find fault with.
What would Claire wear? I’d asked myself.
Wide-legged tan trousers, point-toe flats, and a silk blouse in a deep aubergine that complemented my pale skin and red hair.
I’d even tied my hair back in a low ponytail to imitate her nineties-era pixie crop.
“Oh, my god, are you cosplaying me?” Claire cackled. “I love it! It’s like looking in a mirror.”
I twirled so she could fully admire the outfit. “Mom is going to approve, right?”
“You look gorgeous.”
“You have to say that. I look like you.”
If I were three inches taller, ten pounds slimmer, had skin that never freckled, and hair shaded a sedate auburn instead of ostentatious copper, that might actually be true.
But even if I had been born her carbon copy, I still wouldn’t have her spirit.
There was just something about Claire that made people smile.
Claire squatted down to greet Maya. “Hello, my love. Is it a hugging day?”
“No,” Maya said bluntly without the slightest trace of empathy.
“Then I’ll wave.” Claire wiggled her fingers and then rose to her full height.
Most days were not hugging days for Maya.
I had to hand it to my family. They might trample all over my boundaries, but they respected Maya’s.
Of course, we had never been a physically affectionate family anyway, so Maya’s aversion to touch was an easy cross for them to bear.
The days where Maya attached herself to me like Velcro were honestly much harder.
“You’re late, Jane.”
Mom glided into the foyer in a belted midi dress and low heels, her hair—the same dark-red shade as Claire’s—tucked into an elegant chignon.
It was only when she air-kissed my cheek that I got a faint whiff of her gardenia perfume.
Mom had a holy horror of strong scents. No one should ever smell you coming, even if you smell like a flower garden, she always said. It’s gauche.
“I’m not,” I protested. Even the earliest guests—the ones hand-selected to arrive first with talking points memorized so that the VIPs would be entertained by a party in full swing from the moment they stepped foot on the property—wouldn’t be here for another twenty minutes.
“You still have to get dressed, which means you will be late if you don’t hurry. Maya, darling, Maria will be around, and she’ll get you a snack when you’re hungry. I left a puzzle and brand-new sticker book for you in your room.”
Maya’s face lit up. “Amphibians?”
Mom’s nose twitched ever so slightly. She didn’t approve of amphibians. “Princess Diana.”
“Oh. All right.” Princess Diana was another one of Maya’s special interests, but this one my parents actually approved of.
Maya made a beeline for her room. Mom turned to me, seeming surprised to find me still standing there. “I laid out an appropriate outfit on your bed. Hurry, please. Guests will be arriving any minute.”
“Mom, I am dressed.” I gestured to the pants and blouse I had painstakingly selected with her taste in mind. “Look at me.”
With an impatient sigh, she looked me up and down. “No. Go change.”
My heart sank into my shoes. Dammit. I had actually tried this time. “What about Claire?”
Mom looked at Claire and smiled. People couldn’t help but smile at Claire. “Lovely, as always.”
Claire’s eyes darted to me, her forehead pinched. “I’ll come with you, Janie—”
“No.” I shook her hand off my arm and turned back to our mother. “We’re wearing the exact same outfit. The only difference is Claire’s blouse is navy and mine is purple.”
“Claire looks like Katherine Hepburn. You look like a hobo,” Mom snapped. “Trousers don’t suit you with those hips. Go change.”
I wasn’t going to win this one. I never did, when I went toe-to-toe with Mom. She didn’t need to hold all the cards; she held the only one that mattered. Maya. Feeling like I was twelve again instead of a full-grown adult, I stormed up the stairs, Claire at my heels.
“At least Mom has good taste.” Claire she shut the door behind us with a quiet snick. I would have slammed it. “I mean, whatever she picked out, it will be nice. She won’t send you down there in yellow paisley or ruffles.”
I ran my fingertips over the fine wool pencil skirt she had laid out on my bed. Claire wasn’t wrong. The quality was impeccable. “I really did try to do it right this time.”
“I know you did. You should just stop, you know? We’re never going to make them happy. Don’t bend over backwards for people who don’t appreciate you.”
The we was generous. Claire made them happy without even trying.
Every boyfriend I brought home was worse than the last, but Claire?
They were thrilled when she came out and absolutely beside themselves when she introduced them to Nisha.
In their political circles, it gave them clout.
I knew it made Claire feel like she needed to shower after fundraising events, but it could have been so much worse.
So, yeah. Claire made them happy just by being Claire. I, on the other hand, couldn’t make them happy no matter what I did.
I tossed the trousers and blouse aside and grabbed the pencil skirt, holding it up at eye level. “It looks a little small.”
Claire waved dismissively. “You always think you’re bigger than you are. I’m sure it will fit.”
I searched for a tag to verify that it was my size, but there wasn’t one.
With a sigh, I stepped into it. I had to wiggle it over my hips and suck in my belly to zip up the side zipper, but once everything was in place, it wasn’t too bad.
I could still breathe and move. The fabric held me in like a girdle, flattening my belly while enhancing my curves.
When I realized Mom had chosen a button-down top, I groaned.
“Why would she do this? I’m not wearing the right bra for this shirt.
” I would have needed a minimizer to pull this off, but I’d gone with my favorite push-up.
Button-downs and I did not get along. My chest always made the space between the buttons gape.
“Yeah, that doesn’t look good.” Claire eyed me with pursed lips. “Unbutton the top two. That should give you enough extra fabric that the rest of the buttons lie flat.”
I did as she said, and she was right. The shirt fit perfectly.
Unfortunately, it made my boobs the star of the show.
Claire’s eyes bugged out. “Shit, Janie, you look hot. God, I wish I had your cleavage. Just for a day,” she said wistfully. “Nisha and I would have so much fun.”
Normally I was a huge fan of my tits, but right now I wished I could flatten them. “Mom is going to be pissed if I walk out there like this.”
“She has no one to blame but herself,” Claire pointed out. “Anyway, maybe having your tits out will be a good thing! Chat up those old ranchers. Milk them for every cent you can.” She gave a snort of laughter at her own joke. “Get it? Milk them?”
I made a gagging face. “Gross, Claire. I can’t decide whether to laugh or puke. I don’t want these people anywhere near my boobs.”
“Suck it up, my love.” Claire nudged me to the door. “With great power comes great responsibility. Use your tits for good.”
I looked at all the beautiful people and felt overwhelmed with gratitude that this wasn’t my life anymore.
There wasn’t a single part of me that regretted walking away from all this.
The money. The proximity to power. The status.
From a distance, it all looked like a good time.
But I had lived with it intimately and knew that money came with strings, power was abused, and keeping a high status was dependent on shoving someone else lower.
No fucking thank you.
I was happy with the life I had built. It might not come with a Chanel handbag, but at least it was bought and paid for honestly.
For the most part, anyway.
Jack was here somewhere. Sweetie Pies was catering the event and he had volunteered to help his mom set up. I oscillated between wanting to see him and not wanting him to see me. I didn’t feel like myself here. But still, I kept my eyes peeled for him as I left the portico and crossed the lawn.
I did a quick turn around the garden with Mom, Dad, and Claire, greeting the early arrivals.
Mom had taken in my excessive boobage with a cool nod that made me wonder if it had been her intent all along.
Icky. Dad had said hello with his usual jovial smile, which he kept glued to his face while he told everyone how much he loved having me by his side every day at the ranch.
No one at the party was local to Aspen Springs, and more importantly, they wouldn’t be caught dead in the Painted Cat.
They had no idea the idyllic picture Dad painted of our family life was a lie.
They didn’t know a damn thing about me.
And they definitely didn’t know about Maya.