9. Giselle
The strap of Giselle”s sundress slid down her bare shoulder as she climbed out of her car, prompting nervous hands to fix it immediately. The surprisingly warm November day forced a last-minute outfit change and threw off Giselle”s morning.
As promised, Miriam rang Giselle up after pestering Jude for her number. She invited Giselle to brunch at the Royal Ridge, gushing about introducing Giselle to some girls her age and their mothers.
Giselle, being the woman she was, didn”t have the heart to refuse. Even after contemplating how everything could go wrong until her head spun from nerves, she chose to be brave and agree.
Miriam had sounded thrilled to spend some time with her, and with no morning shift at the nursery, Giselle had nothing else to do. She could”ve made some excuse and frolicked around the flowers in her home garden, but what self-respecting girlfriend avoided her boyfriend”s sweet mom?
So, in her fashion crisis, Giselle adventured into the unexplored corner of her closet with clothes she received as gifts but never found an excuse to wear. From its scattered contents, a sundress had emerged as the uncontested winner.
With a cream-colored base and a pattern of pink peonies and swirling vines dotting the length of the skirt, the dress looked right at home in Giselle”s wardrobe. . . until anyone”s attention reached the high slit opening to her mid-thigh. The dress clung tightly to her body, feeling a size too small.
However, none of her other outfits matched the high expectations. So, she left the house before she could feign a sudden stomach bug.
Giselle had since gotten her car back from Jude’s mechanic, all fixed and ready to drive again. She had missed her little hatchback and the comforting feeling of driving past the coastline with its briny, colder air.
Shutting the door behind her, Giselle juggled her keys, clutch, and phone and sprinted out of the parking lot. Even with all the clutter, she managed to slip the shimmery golden membership card from her clutch. Jude promised her one, and he delivered.
Giselle flounced across the split walkways, winding around the main road into the resort, choosing the southbound route. Despite her platform wedges, she hurried toward the pools with their rippling, powder-blue waters.
Today”s brunch would take her to the slice of heaven known as Bayside Brunch and Bar in the Palm Building. She heard about the place from Dakota and James, notably about how hard securing a reservation could be after a famous magazine ran a glowing article about it. The thought of her sitting with a perfect view of the Pacific Ocean over breakfast food sweetened the prospect of socializing with strangers with no common interests or social status.
Giselle sped up when she found herself stranded between the pools filled with resort-goers and the shade underneath the palm trees. The sea breeze carried laughter on its back as she passed the lively scene of kids splashing in the shallow or adults lounging in assorted pool floaties.
She climbed the short staircase outside the Palm Building and held her guest pass up with crowded hands, flashing it to the security guard out front. He nodded in approval and held the door open for her, taking pity on Giselle and all her clutter.
”Thank you!” Giselle exclaimed and rushed to the nearest bench. Sun shone through the tall, open windows while Giselle dropped all her items into a small pile. ”Alright, this needs to be fixed up.”
She opened the clutch and stuffed her keys into the last remaining space, swapping them for a bright pink hair tie. She pulled her loose hair into a bun, barring a few strands sliding out and framing her cheeks. With the space all filled, Giselle carried her clutch, card, and phone in a single-handed grip and headed on her way.
The sprawling, bright hallways of the Palm Building sent Giselle down a maze of interconnected rooms until she spotted a helpful sign mounted to the wall. An arrow pointed to the left in the upcoming split of the hallway, and she strolled with her shoulder pressed against the wall, picking at the loose strap of her sundress.
The sight of glass double doors adorned with metalwork in the shapes of the sun under the archway and a sign propping the doors open marked the entrance to Bayside. The palm fronds lining the cerulean carpet leading into the restaurant transported Giselle to another world, exuding luxury.
”Welcome to Bayside Brunch and Bar,” the hostess beamed from behind the granite podium when Giselle entered, and she flipped the tablet around. ”Check in with your party?”
”Oh! Sure.” Giselle approached and reached a hesitant hand to the screen, hovering over the grouping of names. Her eyes scanned until she spotted Miriam”s name from a cluster of others, listed underneath deck seating. She clicked the screen, glancing back to the hostess for further instructions.
The hostess smiled. ”Perfect. You should be the final arrival for your party. Right this way.”
The swell of anxiety sat heavily on Giselle”s chest and crushed its weight into her ribs. She gripped her clutch a little stiffer than necessary until the ache in her knuckles from squeezing too hard overrode the numbness in her chest.
Jude wouldn”t be there to hold her hand and walk her through the unspoken etiquette of wealthy people. Schoolwork claimed him for the day, and she understood his need for a distraction-free day. She picked up on a few things from her school days whenever she hung out with James or their friend group, attending fancy dinners and mini vacations whenever she could scrape together enough money to pitch in for her meal or ticket. However, the overwhelming urge to keep a good impression alive wiped her mind blank.
She was out of luck.
Stepping out onto the deck, the instant dose of sunshine bore down on Giselle”s face and yanked her out of her thoughts about Jude.
Her hand shielded her eyes as she squinted, searching for Miriam on the deck. But a table on the far-right end, leaned against the railing by one of the resort”s hiking trails, caught her focus. Among the other older women, Miriam appeared mid-laughter, wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat and a gorgeous blue dress.
Beside Miriam, Giselle counted three other women and three girls in their early twenties. Anxiety reared its head to take another chunk out of her already pitiful confidence, but she owed herself more than fear.
She had done the friends through a boyfriend ordeal before, and it hadn’t ended well. But she hoped she was wrong. Maybe the girls would end up being friendly and welcome her in with open arms. . . or at least tolerate her for the hour? She should get out more anyway.
Giselle bypassed the hostess with a polite nod and marched over to the table, each step more hesitant than the last. But she managed to avoid face-planting into the wooden deck like free entertainment for the brunch crowd by grabbing the back of her chair, effectively announcing her presence.
”Giselle! You made it!” Miriam rose out of her seat at the head of the table, hustling over to Giselle in her kitten heels. She hugged Giselle unexpectedly, but Giselle reciprocated for the momentary relief it afforded her to collect the last of her nerves.
”I wouldn”t miss it for the world,” said Giselle, and she leaned back when Miriam held her shoulders. She stayed still, letting Miriam admire her outfit. Yet, Miriam”s eyes weren”t the only ones with their heated indent pressing into her skin. ”Thank you for having me.”
Miriam laughed, waving her hand. ”Jude”s probably thanking you. I usually drag him to social lunches, and he plays along like a good sport. But now I have a willing participant, so I wanted to take advantage.”
”Speaking of your son, is she the one Jude”s seeing?” One of the voices from behind Giselle interjected. Giselle glanced over to see the moms studying her. Two offered polite smiles, but the third lowered her cat-eyed sunglasses to reveal her eyes narrowed into daggers.
Uh oh.
”She is. Ladies, this is Giselle Courtland. She”s Jude”s girlfriend.”
”Hello. Lovely to meet you all,” Giselle squeaked out and waved, feeling the damp layer of sweat smeared across her palm. She brushed them over her skirt like she wanted to smack stray lint off her dress.
”Hi.”
”Welcome, dearest.”
”Go ahead and take a seat. Order whatever you want when the waiter comes by. It”s my treat for joining me,” Miriam whispered and squeezed her shoulders, returning to her seat.
Giselle walked back to the empty chair and turned her attention to the three girls seated at their half of the table. None of them appeared happy to see her there if the crossed arms and unimpressed stares were a good indicator. But she wanted to be wrong, so woefully misinformed.
”It”s nice to meet you all.” Giselle sat down with the others. She brushed stray hairs from her face when the breeze blew harder and smiled, hoping to start a conversation.
Miriam scooted her chair in, lacing her hands over the table. ”This is Kimberly Keaton, Dorothy Threader, Jocelyn Christon, and their daughters Ella, Sophie, and Ashley, respectively.”
”Welcome to our brunch group.” Mrs. Threader smiled between sips of her mimosa in a tall champagne flute, her grin on the tipsy side.
”Thank you for having me. I look forward to getting to know everyone better,” said Giselle.
With the introductions done, the moms resumed their lively conversation at their half of the table, punctuated with laughter and unified sips of their mimosas whenever their chatter called for a toast. The girls, however, pulled out their phones and exchanged heavy stares with one another.
Giselle didn”t need to be a genius to unscramble the clues before her. Her presence interrupted their otherwise pleasant brunch, dropping an unwanted outsider into their business.
Quietly, she reached for her napkin and unfurled the neat bundle around the silverware. She dropped the napkin on her lap and rearranged her utensils into a neat line beside her empty plate, occupying the silence with something to do.
The urge to text Jude hit her like a pang of homesickness, swinging from under control to a raging inferno within her to flee and call her fake boyfriend. When she and James used to date, a small part of her always worried that she wasn”t meant for the world he lived in.
The current her knew the voice to be correct, no matter how badly she wished it wasn”t. A girl like her didn”t belong on the arm of a guy like Jude Beauregard, mismatched like a pair of designer shoes coupled with funky, patterned socks.
Even if Ella, Ashley, and Sophie included her in their conversation, what could she realistically contribute? When they talked about their winter break plans at some fancy chalet or a trip abroad, Giselle had never traveled out of the state before. If they talked about shopping at their favorite stores, Giselle had nothing but thrift store tags and clearance racks from the mall to show off.
Giselle shrank when the waiter swung by and poured some ice water into her empty wine glass, leaving her with a menu. She propped it open, busying herself with perusing the options, when she heard the pointed, loud clearing of someone”s throat.
Finding herself under the gaze of Ashley, Ella, and Sophia with their phones still in hand and matching expressions of curiosity, hope sparked within Giselle. Yet, the flatness of their eyes sent her heart into a fit of skittering beats like a class pet trapped in its cage, surrounded by domineering children.
”Um, hi?” Giselle whispered.
”So, you”re Jude”s girlfriend?” Ashley clicked her tongue, deciding to examine the state of her manicure while speaking instead of meeting Giselle”s eyes. ”Since when?”
”We”ve been together since October.”
”Uh-huh. . . and where did he find you? You”re not a regular around here. One of us would”ve seen you before.”
The hushed snickers from Ella and Sophie hit first, followed by the bite of the comment piercing under her skin like sharpened teeth. Pain blistered behind Giselle”s eyes, hot and heavy, but she couldn”t start crying. Girls being mean to her shouldn”t hurt her so bad.
”Jude and I attended Del Mesa Prep together and recently reconnected,” Giselle remarked, keeping polite despite the girls” opposite reaction.
Sophie blinked. ”Oh. So, where do you go to school, then? West Bridge like Jude?”
”I don”t go to college. I work at the plant nursery in Del Mesa,” Giselle corrected, sensing her misstep fast, yet not fast enough to retract the statement. ”But that”s fine because I love gardening. Without school interfering, I have more time to pursue hobbies like gardening, baking, and teaching myself to crochet.”
”Crochet?” Ella covered her mouth, and the other girls followed suit, all sliding hands to shield their lips from Giselle”s view. However, she could tell the smiles they wanted to throw in her face. ”Like scarves and stuff? Cute.”
Never in Giselle”s life had cute sounded so derogatory. Cute was reserved for an animal video she”d see online or how some people described children. One word reduced her to a preteen girl trying to sit at the cool kid”s table again and getting her lunch tray knocked onto her clothes.
”Um, yeah. . . I”ll be right back. I want to order something from the bar.” Giselle pushed from her chair, eliciting an awkwardly loud screech against the wooden deck. But she, too busy fleeing the scene, didn”t stop to cringe at what seemed like her hundredth fumble.
Giselle scampered across the deck to the bar underneath a canopy of shade. She climbed onto an empty stool and picked up one of the menus, feeling her hands shake.
They laughed at her.
Was her dating Jude such an unbelievable stretch?
Giselle”s hands pressed over her eyes, and the heels of her palms held back the tears. Her throat ached with a desperate cry clawing up, begging to escape her. But sobbing by herself at the bar hardly seemed a better alternative than subjecting herself to more emotional terror at the brunch table.
However, before she could kick off her pity party with a drink, the stool next to her squelched with the undeniable shift of the air, announcing the presence of someone new. Giselle lifted her head, expecting one of the girls or maybe Miriam.
Or Jude came to rescue her.
Instead of any of those options, Giselle came face to face with a beautiful stranger. Honestly, beautiful hardly covered the woman seated next to Giselle. Sandy blonde hair ran down her back like pressed silk, standing out from the gorgeous navy pantsuit she wore. The warm brown of her eyes and the sharp red lipstick accentuated her high cheekbones and perfectly sculpted facial features. She looked like a statue of a goddess that came to life and escaped the museum for some sunshine and sea air.
The blonde scooped up her tall glass of sangria and held it to her lips. ”Hey, don”t waste a single tear over those girls. Whatever they said or did isn”t worth your time.”
Giselle blinked. ”How”d you know they bothered me?”
”I spotted your table earlier and saw them talking while you looked ready to be somewhere else. Plus, I”ve seen them around the Ridge. They”re mean girls, always shit-talking each other when one of them isn”t around.”
”Well, I met them five minutes ago, but they found a reason to make me feel so small.”
”That says more about them than it ever would about you.” The blonde gestured to the bartender. ”Whatever my friend here wants, put it on my tab.”
”Of course, Miss Riggs.” The bartender nodded. Giselle pointed to the mocktail special of the day on the little menu behind the bar. She waited for the bartender to leave before facing her newfound ally.
”Thank you. . . I”m Giselle.”
”Daisy. It”s nice to meet you, Giselle. I love your dress. It”s chic yet effortless for a place like this, which is so needed.”
The softness of Daisy”s smirk sets Giselle at ease. That time, she was in on the joke, not the butt of it.
”Thanks! I bought it from this little boutique in LA called Peppermint with some friends and never had the opportunity to wear it before today.”
”Peppermint? Oh my god! I love that place! Their clearance rack used to have all the best items for a steal, and my mom would let me spend a small chunk of my weekly paycheck toward new items,” Daisy gasped.
Giselle”s hands clapped over her mouth. ”Wait, you know it? The one on Sunset?”
”Of course I do!” Daisy laughed. ”Their little accessory section had me in a chokehold as a teen. They used to have these headband sales with a three-pack for five bucks.”
”Yes! Oh, and the annual shoe sales where you can snag an extra pair for half the price, but they always ran out of shoes in two hours,” Giselle squealed, kicking her legs a little.
People like Dakota or the girls at the table never understood how much of a godsend a place like Peppermint was for someone whose family didn”t crack the upper-middle-class income bracket. Daisy, on the other hand, got it.
”You make me want to go back. Now I need some bedazzled headbands to liven up my wardrobe. Corporate attire is so boring for no reason.” Daisy wheezed, fanning at her face.
The bartender swung back with Giselle”s drink, dark purple with ice and a blueberry garnish. She spun toward Daisy and lifted her glass into the air.
”Well, how about a toast? To being a Peppermint girl for life, even when you can buy out the store”s inventory,” Giselle remarked.
Daisy lifted her glass. ”I”ll drink to that. Enjoy.” She clinked her glass to Giselle”s, and the two drank in unison, committed to the Peppermint girl”s life. Regardless, the smile on Giselle”s face caused her cheeks to ache.
The tartness of blackberry and the sweetened seltzer brushed a buzzing sensation along her lower lip, reminding her of Jude”s mouth against hers at Dakota”s Halloween party. Heat bubbled up and ran down her neck, not unlike the sunshine beyond the canopy over the bar.
Yet the welcoming vibes didn”t stay. Like clouds blocking the sunlight, Giselle and Daisy”s good time with their drinks gained three observers. Ella, Ashley, and Sophie strutted to the bar and crowded around Giselle and Daisy, closing their possible exits.
”Who”s your friend, Giselle?” Ella cooed, words coated in an almost condescending sweetness, enough to induce cardiac arrest. ”She seems fancy.”
Giselle”s mouth opened, and her thoughts scrambled to assemble a polite protest for them to leave her and Daisy alone. However, her voice failed when Daisy spun around and raked her eyes over the three girls, turning the soft brown into a cutting glare.
”None of your business. Consider me out of your league, morally and in pay grade,” Daisy remarked, and her voice hit as hard as a blizzard. Cold and curt, slicing to the bone.
”What”s that supposed to mean?” Sophie stomped her foot down and crossed her arms over her chest.
”Look at you, with your god-awful highlights and that tacky purse. You think you have the right to bother anyone?”
”This purse is designer! I doubt that Jean-Pierre Fouché is even on your radar since his collections are French and super exclusive!”
”I”m well aware, considering I own three Fouché, one of which Jean-Pierre gifted me. However, yours is a half-decent knockoff. . . anyone with a trained eye can tell by the stitching pattern and the use of velvet fabric. Jean-Pierre hates velvet.”
Daisy cocked her head, but no one could mistake the red crawling up Sophie”s neck after the knockoff accusation. She opened her mouth but closed it tight, lips flapping like a fish trapped on land. She settled on an affronted huff and averted her entire face.
Giselle”s head spun at how ruthlessly Daisy dismantled Sophie but barely gripped onto her drink when Daisy turned to Ashley in the middle. She clicked her tongue, letting disapproval roll off the sound like a grenade with the pin pulled.
”What?” Ashley asked, borderline hissing at Daisy.
”I recognize you,” Daisy hummed. ”I seem to recall a conversation you had in the bathroom earlier with your friend about your trip to Dubai. How was that trip?”
”Uh. . . it was great! Dubai is gorgeous.”
”It is. Say, did you stop by the Hagia Sophia? It”s a prime destination spot for everyone to visit while there.”
”Um… yeah. I did. It was such a pretty place,” Ashley stammered. Giselle downed a sip of her drink, and she, not one for geography, knew something was amiss.
Daisy stopped, flashing a wolfish grin. ”The Hagia Sophia is in Istanbul, not Dubai. I doubt you could place Dubai on a map, let alone have visited it.”
Ashley”s face drained of all its color, and she wobbled backward. ”You know what? Whatever. Let”s go girls.”
”I”m not done yet,” Daisy said, pointing to Ella, who looked anywhere but her. ”Should I tell Little Miss Knockoff that you confessed to sleeping with her ex-boyfriend while they were on a break?”
Sophia”s face flashed through several color palettes of anger, settled on blistering red brighter than Ella”s hair, and screamed. She threw her hands into the air and stormed off, nearly dropping her purse. Wordlessly, Ella and Ashley scrambled after her, forgetting all about Giselle and Daisy.
”How did you do that?” Giselle”s jaw dropped when Daisy faced the bar and sipped her sangria, emptying the glass.
”Years of corporate training and plenty more being a woman. I”ll admit, I haven”t done such an effective takedown in a hot minute. Thanks for the fun.” Daisy smirked.
”Any time, I guess?” Giselle, despite her shock, drank some more. ”I need you to teach me your ways.”
”Tell you what, take my card. I need more girlfriends anyway. Give me a ring sometime.” Daisy reached into her pocket and slid a sleek black and gold business card across the bar.
Giselle picked it up and nodded. ”Deal. Have a good day, Daisy.”
”You too, Giselle. If those girls act up, remind them they”re not all that. I have faith in your inner fighter.” Daisy saluted her.
”I”m more of a lover than a fighter, so I”ll leave the fighting to you.”
”Hah! Fair enough. Have a great day, girl. . . and next time, we”re going shopping at Peppermint for nostalgia”s sake.”
Giselle laughed, letting Daisy slide off the stool and check her phone. Her new friend brushed off the jacket of her pantsuit and swaggered away from the bar, heading back into the Palm Building with an effortless confidence radiating off her.
With Daisy headed out, Giselle returned to the table with her drink. Neither Ashley, Ella, or Sophie returned after the bombshell about ex snatching, so Giselle slid into her chair in peace.
She smiled behind her drink when meeting Miriam”s eye from across the table, waving, ”The service here is lovely, isn”t it?”
”Quite lovely!” Miriam agreed. ”We ladies were discussing centerpieces for Kimberly”s eldest daughter”s wedding, and we could use your expertise about flowers and what”s in season.”
”Of course! Congratulations, first of all, and second, do you mind if I sit closer?” Giselle”s heart did the familiar skip for the mention of flowers.
”Please do. We”re all ears.” Kimberly waved her over, and Giselle grabbed her drink for the move. Looks like she was doing alright without Jude”s guidance, after all.
She only needed to be herself.