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“Oops. Sorry,” I say to her, grabbing a spoon to fish it out.
That’s when I realize everyone at the table is looking at me. With a quick glance around, I realize everyone inthe entire ballroomis looking at me.
Applause starts.
Wow. Is everyone that impressed I killed a fly? Seems a little over the top, but at least people are not talking about my wedding for a change.
“And the winner is, my very own daughter, Petal Parker,” Mom booms from the stage.
Winner? Of what? They haven’t gotten to the scented candle basket yet.
“Come on up, honey, and claim your prize.”
She’s holding a big fancy envelope, like the kind that contains something important and upscale.
Cool. I must have won the romantic weekend in San Luis Obispo. I’ll take Lucy and Gilly, and we’ll have a great time road tripping to the Central Coast, wine tasting and maybe even visiting Hearst Castle. God knows I could use a getaway and I haven’t been to the castle since a middle school field trip.
I jog up to the stage amidst loud applause and take the envelope from Mom, who’s beaming like I won a gazillion-dollar lottery. She throws an arm around my shoulder and points to the photographer, raising my arm so the pretty envelope is in the photo. The camera flashes several times.
“Congrats to my daughter,” she squeals. “There are a lot of ladies who would have loved to win this date with Rake Hanson, the San Francisco Aftershocks’ star hockey player, but Petal has dug deep into her pockets like I know the rest of you will to support the museum, as well.”
Wait, what? I won adate? Withwho? How did that happen?
I giggle nervously, aware that five hundred sets of eyes are trained on me. “Isn’t this the weekend away?” I ask her. “I didn’t bid on a guy.”
The mic picks up my words and the room gets quiet.
A dark cloud passes over Mom’s face, her universal signal toshut it.
She stays focused on the audience. Her people. Hersubjects. “Petal, honey, you are hilarious. You raised your paddle, silly girl, and spent two thousand dollars for a date with Rake Hanson.”
No the fuck I didn’t.
First off, I don’t know who Rake Hanson is. Second, I did not bid on him. And third,two thousand dollars? Is she fucking kidding?
She knows I’d never do something so frivolous.
I’m a thrifty girl. I hunt bargains and buy everything on sale. It doesn’t matter that I have a massive trust fund. I don’t believe in wasting money.
I chuckle for the audience, then turn to Mom, who’s still wearing her ‘watch it’ expression. I don’t care. I want this straightened out, and now.
I lean toward the microphone. “Sorry, everyone. I was just swatting a fly. Got him, too. Just look in Mrs. Bender’s water.”
A titter runs through the audience, and I’m pleased I could be entertaining. I consider making some sort of joke that she should be happy the fly didn’t end up in her soup, but Mom cuts me off.
“Oh my. Petal has no idea how lucky she is to have won a date with Rake. Isn’t she, Rake?”
I follow her gaze to the corner of the room, where there’s a giant man surrounded by what looks to be a minion or two.
He’s nice looking and all, buff as hell, and with the kind of red hair I’ve loved on a guy since Prince Harry came on the scene. But he’s scowling like someone pissed in his Cheerios. Like big time, world class-level scowling. He throws a two-fingered wave my mother’s way, I think because the short man next to him nudged him and told him to.
I put the envelope back on the podium and turn to leave the stage.
They’ll have to auction that item again. For cripe’s sake, wasn’t it obvious I was killing a fly?
Mom’s eyes burn my backside as I hustle back to my table, and as soon as I’m seated, I realize I may not be getting out of this one.
“Let’s hear a round of applause for my daughter Petal, who at the moment holds the record for the highest bid so far today.”
