Chapter 12
“W ELL, I DECLARE, Claudette and Genevieve planned this night a long time ago.” Camille dropped the Sunday paper—with the front page featuring a photograph of the Chennault and Devlin families together from last night at the Debutante Ball—into Carrah’s lap. She then shed her robe and went to the edge of the pool and dipped her toes in. “Alexandria is no Reese, and yet she was anchored by the youngest scion of the Chennault family, who presented her to society.”
Carrah scanned the photo. She had already seen a version of it circulating on social media, and she had not been able to stop looking at it… or Chris, rather. His offer to help still seemed surreal. A few more seconds was all the photo got from her before she folded the paper and tossed it to the empty lounge chair at her side. “It’s a nice photo, Mother.”
“Of course it is!” She cleared her throat. “You better believe last night was orchestrated a long time ago. That picture is proof that all of our summers here make dreams come true.”
“Is that what you and Dad told yourselves while arranging a marriage for me to Trenton Butler?” Carrah tried, but couldn’t hide her contempt. “For the record, my dream is not to become that man’s wife. I went along with your game ten years ago for debut so that our family could be coveted by society. I will not subject myself to becoming his bride to remove Noir’s debt.”
Her mother turned her nose in the air before she eased down the steps into the water. “Your father made me aware of your sentiments. I guess that’s why he had a not-so-nice run-in with Chauncy last night.”
“Wait, what?” Carrah sat up in her chair, her mind racing down an empty alley full of side streets. Did Trent mention to her parents that she was outside with Chris? Would the argument between their fathers change his mind? She hadn’t heard from Chris since he took off last night, and while he said to give him time, too much may set her back… again. This was not good.
“You heard what I said. Your father had no business approaching Chauncy at the ball. Wrong place, wrong time. The man is still grieving. They all are. I saw that last night.”
Carrah scooted from the chair to the deck of the pool and dropped her legs into the water. She wished she knew what had triggered an exchange of words between her father and Mr. Chennault. Chris had made it clear, almost as if she didn’t know that their arrangement needed to remain private. For the sake of her future she prayed nothing had been compromised. “How can you be so sure? You don’t talk to them.”
“Maybe not anymore, but I’ve known Chauncy since we were children. Claudette was my sorority sister, and we moved in the same circles. She was a big presence at the Lakeside Debutante Ball, and is missed by many. Hell, if she were here, I probably wouldn’t have been tapped to chair. Chauncy is not the same without her. Summer Bradshaw on the arm of their oldest further illustrates my point.”
“Did you send condolences?” Carrah pulled her shades down and analyzed her mother, who seemed to become speechless with her question. Later she would assess the surge of annoyance at the mention of Summer being with Chris. Right now, she needed to better understand her mother’s sudden change of tune on Claudette Chennault. It seemed friendlier than it had been in years. “I mean… it’s okay if you didn’t. Not like we socialize with them.”
“Once upon a time we did.” Her chin lowered to her chest as she flicked at the water. “How could I not offer my condolences? You know the many boards and committees we sat on together. Not to mention the positions we competed for or friends we shared.” Camille turned her head to the heavens and released a long, audible breath. “None of how our families are was my choice… It was hers.” Her mother’s last words reeked of bitterness before she took the final step and submerged herself in the water from the neck down. “I attended Claudette’s funeral… sick and all. It was the least I could do,” she mumbled as her expression became vacant.
Carrah pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. She’d only seen the expression cross her mother’s face last year as she battled for her life. “Why do you say that?”
“ C’est tout. ” Camille slipped into the old tongue when she had a point to prove or one to evade. In this case, it was the latter based on the way she dismissed the conversation without an answer to Carrah’s question. Carrah didn’t understand why she had been willing to say so much and then pull back harshly. She’d never heard her mother speak so freely about Mrs. Chennault, except when they were vying against each other for a membership or position in some organization. “Now, please tell me you’ve sent Beau the reports he requested? If not, he’s going to keep using your exit from the table last night after being privy to the company’s situation to highlight your obstinacy and make it cause for your father to limit the powers he’s given you at Noir.”
Carrah pushed her shades back down over her eyes. She’d spent years being the dutiful daughter, only to be met with consequences that suggested otherwise. The anger rolling over her body wasn’t meant for her mother and she didn’t want to say something she couldn’t take back. Just as she swung her legs out of the pool and pushed to stand up, water splashed all over her. She looked straight ahead and saw her mother’s teasing smile.
Random, lighthearted acts from Camille had been nonexistent the last year, and Carrah missed them. She took a deep breath, remembering the affirmations she’d learned in therapy, and made the conscious decision to ignore the machinations of her brother, her father, and Trent. Her choice was to be happy and enjoy the sunny day she’d planned by the pool. She then splashed her mom back, which prompted them both to fall into a fit of laughter. Their giggles faded when Camille pushed out of the water and joined Carrah on the deck. She took her daughter by the hand and they sat in silence for a while.
There would never be enough words to communicate how much she loved the woman who gave her life. Only, her mother had to stop being the go-between. “Your son should’ve checked his email this morning before he came whining to you about the product brief.”
“Noted,” she responded, patting Carrah’s hand. “What about Trent? I’m not sure his family will remain agreeable once they learn you’re not accepting his proposal.”
“He’s a serial cheater. That relationship—or whatever it was with him—cost me a couple thousand dollars in therapy before I was willing to admit that to myself.” An ache in her head started, but she closed her eyes and released a breath. “I can’t stand to be around him.”
Camille sighed. “Maybe… he’s changed. Honestly speaking, I think he has. Trent is twenty-nine, and poised to become one of America’s youngest senators. People love his ideas, and having a woman like you as his wife would boost his public image. There’s no coincidence that he chose you, Carrah.” She squeezed Carrah’s hand.
“You’re joking, right?” Carrah snatched her hand away from her mother. She then left her side and went to gather a towel off the chair. Her eyes squinted at her mother, who was shaking her head no. “He chose me or our families chose us for each other?”
“There’s no need in me answering what you already know. You and Trent were matched ten years ago for your presentation to society. You dated in college. You’ve been a part of each other’s lives a long time. This is natural.”
“Mom, stop!” Carrah swallowed hard to prevent screaming. “Do you hear yourself? Did you come out here and pretend to lounge by the pool so you could convince me to reconsider his proposal?”
Camille Andrews stared her daughter in the face before she sank back into the water. Carrah hoped her mother hadn’t stooped to such a low, but Noir was involved and there wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do to preserve the origins of their wealth.
“You know more than anyone that Trent is not the man for me. I literally just told you that I can’t stand to be near him.” Carrah snorted. “Another mutually beneficial relationship. Is that what you want for me, Mother, because we couldn’t very well call it a marriage.”
“Carrah,” Dominic called, standing in the open French door. “Reese and Ava are here. You want me to send them out?”
“Yes.” She sized her mom up. “Mother was just leaving.” Carrah grabbed a fresh towel for her mother and held it up.
Camille acquiesced and exited the pool. “Can you at least think about what I said? Not only would Noir have another chance to survive, you would be placed back on a national stage. You’ve always enjoyed that, and it was unbelievable to see you reign as Miss Louisiana after you had been crowned Miss Xavier University, and the Queen of the Juneteenth Pageant. I’m still uncertain why you chose to work for the company instead of pursuing Miss America after being coroneted the Zulu Queen.”
“Because I’m more than a pretty face.” She paused, weighing her words. “You enjoyed it much more than I did.”
Camille clicked her tongue. “Nonsense! The way you woo crowds is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. You’ve been raised to be in the limelight and could take it all back after revamping the product lines. The visibility Noir would get with you as the wife of a rising political star would be priceless. At least then you would never have to go back in the lab… I mean, it no longer interests you the way it used to, right?”
The way her mom arched her brow before she proceeded to leave didn’t sit right with Carrah. How did she know? She started to ask then stopped herself and waved to Reese and Ava, who were now walking on the deck. Besides, one question for her mom would lead to another answer she probably didn’t want to hear and it could finally force her to admit that the life everyone else wanted her to have was not the one she imagined.
“Hey, gurl!” Reese snickered, dropping her beach bag down on a lounge chair. She then kissed Carrah on the cheek before Ava. “What’s wrong? Don’t say nothing, ’cause it’s written all over your face.” Ava rested a hand on one hip then took her free pointer finger and traced a circle around Carrah’s face.
Somehow Carrah was able to release a little giggle before she crashed back down to her seat with Reese and Ava huddling around her like they did when they were little. She could’ve never imagined the closeness the three had forged as tots playing duck-duck-goose would wrap her in a blanket of security, shielding her from the collateral damage of their world, at age twenty-seven.
Carrah didn’t exactly know how to feel when so many things were wrong. She didn’t want to see Noir fail, but she couldn’t rationalize marrying a man to save it. There was no way she could forget or forgive his past indiscretions and believe he would never come home to her not smelling like Chanel No. 5 or Jo Malone’s Peony & Blush. She despised those fragrances as competition in more ways than one. Most importantly, if she gave everyone else what they wanted, she was left with nothing. Her life and the future she imagined was worth more than Noir’s chances of survival.
“Better?” Carrah forced the fakest smile she could muster. Both Reese and Ava shook their heads no. She waved it off and then said, “Mama drama. That’s it. That’s the tweet.”
At once Reese and Ava fell into laughter. Carrah tried resisting, but ended up joining in. If she didn’t laugh, then she would spend the rest of her poolside hangout stewing on the dense encounter with her mother.
“Mama drama.” Reese cackled so loud. “Trust, I know. Genevieve is the queen!”
“That may be you one day, Reese.” Ava giggled.
Reese shoved Ava. “Hardly.” She cleared her throat and looked at Carrah. “You want to talk about it?”
Short answer: no. Long, unshareable answer: the agreement with Chris needed to work so she could escape. She was done living for everyone else.
“I’m good,” she chirped, removing the sunglasses from her face and tossing them onto a towel. A huge grin curved her lips as she started backing away from her friends. “Last one in the pool is a rotten egg!” She darted to the deep end and plunged in.
Her toes grazed the concrete bottom of the pool. She pushed off, accelerating up through eight feet of water, and finally came up for air. Reese was next to break the surface, and Ava was still on the deck tucking her hair inside a frilly swim cap that looked like it came from 1950.
“Seriously.” Carrah giggled, treading water. “You’re natural.”
“Girl, just because I don’t have that creamy crack doesn’t mean I want to spend my evening washing and blow-drying hair.”
Ava’s sassiness lasted less than a second before Reese sneaked up the steps and yanked her into the water. A splashy catfight ensued as Carrah hung back strangled by laughter. The second she moved to join in, squeals of laughter came from behind. She watched Peyton zoom past Quinn.
“Y’all started without us,” Quinn shrieked.
Carefree silliness that they’d missed for ten summers while Reese was away returned, filling them with nostalgia as they all decided to re-create childhood memories.
Carrah paired up with Peyton and maneuvered her way onto her shoulders and then Quinn did the same to Reese, for a rematch in the ultimate battle of Chicken Fight. A moment that had been missed was reclaimed. Life felt good, free without judgment, and one day, Carrah would thank them for saving her.