“Nothing.” The look on his face let me know it was definitely something.
Thatcher rang the bell and then turned to me quickly. “You mean a lot to me, Carrie. No matter what happens in there, I want you to know that.”
“My God. If there’s something I need to know before we walk in there…”
“No, no. It’s, um, nothing like that.” He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll do my best to stay close to you.”
I frowned, nonplussed. He had sounded almost desperate. What was he talking about? I didn’t have a chance to ask, though, because Jesper, the Caldwell’s butler, opened the door.
He looked at me as if I’d crawled out of the garbage. He always did. He addressed us in his snooty British accent, “Ah, yes. Mr. Thatcher and… I’m afraid I’ve forgotten the name of your latest young woman.”
I flashed him a fake smile.
“Jesper, I’ve been married to Carrie for five years,” Thatcher said in his genteel Southern drawl. “You do know that when Mom passes away, I’ll be inheriting the estate and it’s likely Carrie will be making all staffing decisions, right?”
Jesper suddenly beamed at me, his demeanor completely changing. “Miss Carrie, so nice to see you again. May I take your coat?”
I hid a real smile. “Coat? I don’t have one.” Yes, it was October, but the temperature was still hitting eighty degreesmost days. We hadn’t experienced the seasonal cooling down yet this year.
“Of course.” He bowed obsequiously, and I couldn’t look at Thatcher for fear he’d give me a look that would make me laugh. “Please do come inside. Everyone’s in the back gardens for cocktail hour.”
I wondered how many of Atlanta’s luminaries would be here tonight. Bitsy Moreland, the wife of the Mayor of Atlanta, was Karen’s best friend andalwayshere. But the rest of the attendees could be as eclectic and varied as some of theReal Housewives of Atlantastars, sports figures, musical stars, political up and comers, senators and their wives, and other very, very rich people. I doubted any of the more interesting people would be here tonight. It would more than likely just be Karen’s extensive army of close friends and their families. Her birthday party was considered an exclusive event, and an invitation was hard to come by.
As we headed into the fray, armed with alcohol we’d grabbed off a passing waiter’s tray, I saw that I was right. The attendees were all friends, or frenemies, of Karen’s. There wasn’t a friendly face in the bunch. They knew how Karen felt about me, and they treated me just like she did.
I didn’t circulate much, choosing to stay near Celia and her date, Bryce and his date, and Thatcher when he wasn’t pulled into conversations by his mother or youngest sister. Things were tolerable to start with. I’d been to much worse parties at the Caldwell estate, anyway. So far, Karen and Olive had left me alone. That was fabulous, so I wouldn’t complain.
Then I saw them heading my way, and I had to fight back the urge to run and hide. Karen was surrounded by her entourage of women who were on the upper rungs of Atlanta’s social ladder. It wasn’t that I knew who many of them were. It was just thatI knew Karen. She wouldn’t surround herself with anyone who wasn’t extremely important in Atlanta society.
“Carrie, there you are,” Karen said with a smile on her face. She almost sounded glad to see me, but I recognized the gleam in her eyes. Her friends all stared at me as they sipped their wine. I braced myself for what was coming.
“We haven’t seen you around much,” Olive said in her weird, nasally, valley girl accent. “Not that I’ve missed you,” she said under her breath but just loud enough for me to hear. Her pack of twenty-something friends all giggled quietly. Olive looked like a younger version of her mother. Same tall, regal bearing. Same champagne blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Same perfect clothes and makeup. She was pretty, but she would have been beautiful if she didn’t have a perpetually bored expression on her face. She was definitely her mother’s daughter, and, besides Thatcher, she was Karen’s favorite child.
I forced a smile. “I’ve been busy,” I said. “I don’t know if Thatcher’s told you, but I’ve been chosen to plan the Orchid Ball this year in Indigo Falls.” Some of Olive’s friends snorted, trying to hide their laughter, and I glanced at them quickly. I knew Karen and Olive thought the town I grew up in wasn’t worthy of even talking about. But I was so sick of them treating it like it was the punchline to some inside joke they had.
“The Orchid Ball,” Karen said, sounding impressed. For a moment, I thought it was real. I was excited that maybe, finally, my mother-in-law and I could bond over something. I knew she led a lot of committees. Maybe with me starting to do the same we could…
“Tell me about that, dear,” Karen said exchanging a look with the ever-present Bitsy Moreland.
“Well,” I started a bit nervously, “my mother is the president of the Indigo Falls Garden Club. She’s planned and hosted theball for the past twenty years, but she thought we should try to appeal to a younger crowd this year. That’s why I’m in charge.”
“How nice,” Karen said. “Tell me more about it.”
I was feeling more confident now. “The proceeds go to raise funds for both the garden club and general town improvements. This year we want to raise enough to remodel a room in the town library.”
“That’s nice,” Bitsy said in her most imperious voice. “Karen, didn’t you host the annual fundraiser for the Atlanta Botanical Gardens last year?”
My heart sank. Too late, I remembered Karen sat on the board of the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. The gardens were world class and made my club’s garden look like a patch of weeds in comparison. Damn. I wished I could take back everything I’d said. I felt heat starting to rise up the back of my neck.
“Oh, yes. My budget was in the high six figures, and we raised over twenty million to donate towards breast cancer research.” Karen gave me a condescending look. “How much was your budget, dear?”
“Um… twenty-five thousand dollars,” I said softly. I’d thought it was a lot, but Karen just loved making me look like a fool. I could see now that this whole thing was a set-up. Thatcher must’ve told her about the Orchid Ball, and she’d come over on purpose to remind me of just how inferior I was.
Olive’s friends erupted into laugher at how small my budget was. My face burned, but I kept the smile plastered on. I wouldn’t let them see just how much I wanted to grab a bottle of wine and go cry behind a bush.
“And how much did you hope to raise?” Bitsy asked.
I didn’t want to tell them, but there was no getting out of it now. “Five hundred thousand,” I admitted, saddened that something I’d been so proud of was being reduced to a joke.
