The slight hesitation is deliberate, I know, my mother never says anything without calculation. I tense, prepared to intervene, but Sloane steps forward with a genuine smile.
"Mrs. Morgan. Welcome to Hope Peak." She extends her hand, which my mother takes. "Had I known you were coming, I'd have arranged a proper welcome committee."
"Oh, I prefer to see things as they truly are, not dressed up for inspection." My mother's gaze is evaluating but not unkind. "And please, call me Vivienne. I feel we're going to be seeing quite a bit of each other."
The implication makes heat rise to my face. "Mother, what are you doing here? The gala isn't for another two weeks."
"And miss the buildup? The community integration my son has supposedly committed himself to?" She waves a dismissive hand. "Besides, the Whitaker estate in Aspen was unbearably dreary this year. Same people, same conversations." She turns back to Sloane. "I hear you're the one who's convinced Atticus to participate in actual holiday festivities. I'm impressed. Usually, he holes up with spreadsheets until New Year's."
Sloane's eyes meet mine briefly, amusement dancing in their hazel depths. "He's been surprisingly cooperative. We've got him signed up for the children's holiday pageant and everything."
"Remarkable." My mother sounds genuinely impressed. "The last time I suggested he attend his cousin's children's recital; he invented an emergency board meeting."
"It wasn't invented," I protest, though it absolutely was.
"Well," Sloane says, "Hope Peak has a way of bringing out the best in people."
Something in her tone makes my mother look between us more carefully, her eyes narrowing with speculation. I've seen that look before, it's the same one she uses before making a particularly devastating move in chess.
"Indeed," she says finally. "I look forward to experiencing this magical transformation myself." She turns to me. "Now, darling, I've taken the liberty of booking myself into that charming lodge on the north side of town. The one with the stone exterior and appalling Wi-Fi."
"The Evergreen?" Sloane asks, surprised. "That's... rustic by your standards, isn't it?"
My mother actually smiles. "I wasn't always Vivienne Morgan of the Upper East Side, my dear. I grew up in Vermont. I can rough it when motivated."
This is news to me. In all my thirty-six years, I've never heard my mother mention her childhood in Vermont or any ability to "rough it."
"You'll join me for dinner tonight," she continues, making it a statement rather than a question. "Both of you. Seven o'clock."
"Actually," I begin, searching for an excuse, "we have a...”
"Community commitment?" she finishes, eyebrow arching. "Surely not dinner, as I've checked the schedule that Marcus so helpfully provided. You're free after five."
I shoot a betrayed look at Marcus, who has the grace to appear apologetic.
"We'd be delighted," Sloane says smoothly when I remain silent for too long. "The Evergreen has an excellent chef."
"Perfect." My mother gathers her designer handbag. "And Atticus, darling, do wear something less corporate. You look like you're about to foreclose on the Christmas tree."
With that parting shot, she glides from the office, leaving a vacuum of silence in her wake.
"I'm sorry," Marcus says the moment she's gone. "She can be very... persuasive."
"It's fine, Marcus," I assure him, though it absolutely isn't. "Could you give us a moment, please?"
When the door closes behind him, I turn to Sloane. "You don't have to do dinner. I can make your excuses."
"And leave you to face the inquisition alone?" She shakes her head. "Not a chance. Besides, I like your mother."
"You like the idea of her embarrassing me with childhood stories," I correct.
"That too." She steps closer, lowering her voice. "Though I am curious why she's really here two weeks early."
"To meddle." I run a hand through my hair. "She's suspicious. Did you see how she looked at us?"
"I did." A small smile plays on Sloane's lips. "Guess we're not as subtle as we thought."
"We've been 'us' for less than twenty-four hours," I point out. "There's no way she could know."
