AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The woman looked up and spotted them. Her features registered a note of surprise, and she glanced over her shoulder toward the sidewalk for a millisecond before swinging back to them. “Veronica?” she asked in an all-too-familiar voice.
“Jessica,” Spencer’s mother croaked.
Spencer resisted the urge to gasp. It was Jessica DiLaurentis. Ali’s mom.
“My goodness, what a nice surprise!” Jessica DiLaurentis glided over and gave Spencer and Spencer’s mom air kisses. “It’s so lovely to see you!”
Spencer’s mother snapped back into her perfect Main Line hostess mode, all traces of discomfort gone. “It’s so nice to see you!” she chirped in a clipped, haughty voice she reserved for neighbors, fellow charity board members, and new parents at Rosewood Day she didn’t feel were worthy enough to be on school committees. “What are you doing here?”
“We have a house here, remember?” When Mrs. DiLaurentis gave a cool half-smile, it was like seeing Ali’s ghost. “We decided to come down here for New Year’s. Decompress before Ian’s trial.” She fingered the giant Gucci sunglasses on top of her head.
“Of course,” Spencer’s mother said. Her voice betrayed nothing, but when Spencer looked down, she noticed that her mother had one hand tucked behind her back. It was furiously picking at the skin around her thumbnail. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to speak more at the arraignment. It was just such a whirlwind.”
Mrs. DiLaurentis waved her hand. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up. We’ve bought a house near Rosewood—in Yarmouth. We wanted to be close by for the trial.” Her phone let out a ping, and she peeked inside the Chanel bag. “Oh, I’d better run,” she said. “It was lovely to see you both. Give my best to Peter and Melissa!”
“Yes, all the best to your family, too!” Spencer’s mother beamed.
Ali’s mother exited the boutique, still glancing at her phone screen. When Spencer turned back to her own mother, the composed expression had disappeared from her face once more. She ran her hands up and down her hips. The skin on her thumb had been rubbed raw.
“Mom?” Spencer touched her mother’s arm. “Are you okay?”
She blinked hard. “Of course. We should go, though. I think the heat is getting to me.”
She was about to head for the door when Spencer caught her arm. “Mom. You’re still . . .” She trailed off, gesturing to the maxi dress her mother was still wearing. The tags dangled from under her arm.
Her mother looked down and tittered unsteadily. “Goodness. Right.”
She walked back to the dressing room as though nothing had been amiss. Spencer stood rooted to the spot for a moment, an uneasy cramp in her stomach. It was natural for Spencer to feel uncomfortable in Mrs. DiLaurentis’s presence—she was one of the last people to see Ali alive. But why in the world would her mother fall to pieces in front of their former neighbor?
Chapter 8
How to Get Lei’d
When Spencer stepped onto the yacht club’s parking lot that night for the pre–New Year’s party, she could smell the heady scents of grilled pineapple and poi, tiki-torch smoke, and coconut. Since everyone had been asked to show up dressed for the luau theme, Spencer wore a short, floral-printed dress and an orchid flower behind her ear, which kept sending out romantic whiffs of perfume with every toss of her hair. Melissa had on a long printed maxi dress and floral lei around her neck. Spencer’s mother had stubbornly refused to wear anything but a white Calvin Klein sheath, though she’d begrudgingly put on a pair of sparkly high-heeled thongs and an oversized floral statement necklace. Her father wore an obnoxious orange and pink Hawaiian shirt under his Armani sport jacket, just like every other man in the room over the age of forty.
As the family walked toward the entrance, occasionally saying hello to other yacht club members they’d met through the years, Spencer’s father’s fingers flew across his phone’s little keyboard. Her mother nudged him. “Weren’t you going to leave that in the car?”
“I’m just sending a text,” he said distractedly.
“To whom? And since when do you know how to text?”
“I’ve always known how to text.” His phone rang. He answered it with a grunt, then whispered something into it that sounded like She is? and then, Okay, good.
When he hung up, Spencer’s mother was staring at him. “Who was that?”
“Just a work thing,” her father murmured hurriedly.
Spencer’s mother pursed her lips and fingered her necklace. Melissa leaned over to Spencer. “What’s with Dad’s sudden air of mystery?” she whispered.
Spencer shrugged. She had no idea, but she didn’t like it.
The Hastingses stepped over a threshold and into the luau. Bursts of brightly colored flowers and palm trees covered in twinkling lights transformed the normally stuffy restaurant into a high-class Hawaiian fantasy. A long-haired girl in a coconut-shell bikini top and a grass skirt handed everyone, including Spencer, a piña colada. “Aloha!” she bleated happily, not noticing that Spencer’s parents looked like they were ready to throw each other into the roasting pit. “Grab your place cards and find your table! Have a wonderful time!”
Spencer’s mother plucked her place card from the long table in the lobby. “We’re at table three,” she said in a pinched voice, and started across the dining room, the others on her heels. Halfway there, she froze in her tracks. Mrs. DiLaurentis and her husband were sitting at table six, wearing matching puka shell necklaces. Ali’s mom looked up and noticed the Hastingses, but instead of waving, she furrowed her brow and looked away.
