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“You’re Martha’s stepdaughter aren’t you? Ellie? I’m Lacy, I’m a member of the Philanthropic League with her.”
I smile tightly. “Ellie is my sister. I’m Brooke.”
“Of course.” She drags her gaze down me in assessment and then smiles. “Martha mentioned you both work here.” She eyes my uniform and her nose twitches almost imperceptibly. It’s like she’s allergic to starched polos. “How fun, it’s almost a family business.”
I wait for James to chime in and announce that he knows me as well, but his imposing silence is worse. I’ve been wondering what it would be like when we finally came face to face, and now that it’s happening, all of my worst fears are coming true. He’s still holding on to the anger. I hurt him in Vegas, and for that, I’m sorry. I need him to know that.
“James, how are you?” I ask, peering over at him beneath my lashes.
Look at me, I beg. Look at me so you can see how sorry I am.
“Fine,” he replies with a bored dismissal.
“James?” Lacy asks. “Do you two know each other?”
“We’re friends,” I reply with a small smile.
“Is that so?” Lacy asks, her perfectly manicured brow arching in surprise. Her gaze scans back and forth between us, alight with cunning mischief. “I would have thought it was frowned upon for employees to befriend club members.”
Just then her hand shifts so quickly and so deftly that I know I’m the only one who sees it, and then her napkin goes tumbling to the ground. She claps her hand to her chest. “Oh, goodness, I’m so clumsy today!”
She apologizes, but she makes no move to retrieve it. We all freeze there for a long moment before it becomes clear that she expects me to bend down and pick it up.
“Allow me to get you a clean napkin,” I suggest as my mind races to find an escape from the humiliation.
“Don’t bother, this one is just fine!” she insists.
Her message is received loud and clear: it’s not about the napkin, it’s symbolic. In this moment, I’m the help. I’ve never felt so degraded, and a part of me wants to leave right here and now, but the chef clears his throat and I know I have no choice. I bend slowly, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I wrap my hand around the napkin just as Lacy’s heel shifts one inch to the right, pinning it to the ground. I tug it once, and when she doesn’t release it, I tug again, harder this time. Her heel lifts at the last second, taking the resistance with it. My momentum carries me back and I land on my ass, the dishes sliding off my tray in a mess of crashing porcelain and leftover food.
Some kind of disgusting green goop flies up and blankets my hair, and the edge of the heavy tray drops heavily onto my ribs. James leaps to his feet to help, and as he hooks his hands under my arms and lifts me up, more dishes clatter to the ground.
I aim a furious glance at Lacy, but she’s wearing a perfect mask of shock and concern.
“Oh my gosh, you poor thing! Are you okay?” she asks. “My clumsiness must be contagious.”
James brushes bits of food off my shirt and skirt before I realize what he’s doing. When I do, I yank my arm away from him and take a step back. By this point, the chef has gone completely apoplectic. He flits around me, yelling obscenities and calling me a “stupid philistine”. In a last-ditch effort to preserve a modicum of dignity, I fling as much food off my body as I can and then storm out of the dining room. I’m still due to start my shift in the cabana any minute now, but I could not care less. Right now, I have a job offer to accept.CHAPTER NINETEENDiego and Nicolás sit across from me at Starbucks, smiling as I fill them in on my resume and experience. They’re both in their mid 40s, well-dressed artist types. Diego wears clear-framed circular glasses and Nicolás has long blond hair that could rival James’. I decide there’s no point in leaving out the details of why I left my former position as a tutor. Fortunately, they find the whole ordeal amusing rather than concerning.
“She thought you’d sleep with her new husband?” Nicolás asks with wide eyes.
I shrug. “She never said those exact words…”
“Well fortunately Nicolás prefers blonds, so I think we’ll be fine—oh, and men, in case you hadn’t guessed!”
There’s half a moment of hesitation before we all crack up laughing.
For the next hour, we get to know each other better. They tell me all about their daughters, Olive and Luciana, bragging about their Spanish and English skills.
“We’ve been here in the United States for a few years,” Diego explains, “so they’ve picked up quite a bit, but it’s important to us that they continue speaking English once we return to España.”
