The subject change did exactly what I’d wanted it to.Her expression sparked to life, and everyone leaned toward her now.
“Annalise FaceTimed me just last night to show us little Flora,” Mrs. Conan gushed about her daughter and new granddaughter, a smile across her mauve painted lips. “You should see our little flower bloom. We’re so blessed!”
The ladies loved gushing over their successful daughters. Annalise, who’d married some heir of an oil rig from California, just had her first baby a month ago. Mrs. Holland’s daughter, Caroline, was dating some start-up CEO she’d met in New York City, and things were “getting serious.” Mrs. Flannagan’s daughter, Fiona, had “finally gotten her head on her shoulders” and moved to France to help with the family winery. Everyone had glowing things to say about their daughters, and the listeners ate it up.
Except when it came to Destelle. Destelle was hardly ever asked about.
Well, and Margot Massey, daughter of the Massey Hotel & Suites next door, but that was a different story.
But that was why it was a shock when Mrs. Conan asked, “Alice, how is Destelle doing?”
Mom was clearly caught off guard by the question. “She’s good,” Mom said after swallowing her bite of croissant. She wiped her fingers on her napkin, and I could see them tremble. “She’s actually going to be coming home next month for the twins’ graduation.”
She’s not, I wanted to say.She’ll say she is, but she won’t.
“We haven’t seen her inages,” Lydia said, leaningaround me to grin at my mother. “When was the last time she was home?”
“Annalise’s wedding,” Mrs. Conan supplied. “Almost three years ago. And even then, she didn’t mingle with us. She didn’t fill us in at all on how life is going for her. I had so many questions!”
Mrs. Holland lowered her voice. “Like… is she still with that tattooed singer?”
“Are they stilljustdating?” Mrs. Johnson scrunched her nose. “He hasn’t even bothered to propose yet?”
“I always tell my daughter,” Mrs. Holland began, shaking her head. “Men will never buy the cow if they get the milk for free!”
“Oh,honey.” Despite how much Ms. Jennings had drunk so far, her voice was solid. “If men only commit for milk, no wonder your husband’s had a wandering eye.”
Mrs. Holland gasped, and Mrs. Conan shot Ms. Jennings a glare that froze the atmosphere further. “Your nephew’s back in town, isn’t he, Ally?” Mrs. Conan asked Ms. Jennings, raising a thin eyebrow. We were inching a bit closer to cat-fight territory. “Caught me right off guard when I realized that’s who that was. He looks like trouble—even more than before.”
Ms. Jennings wrinkled her nose. “Bah. You make it sound like he set a litter of kittens on fire.”
“No, just the entire serenity garden,” Mrs. Holland muttered.
A few of the women gave thin laughs.
“How do you feel about him being back, Eleanor?” Mrs. Conan asked, like she’d only just remembered I satbeside my mother. “After all, you were the one he trapped in there.”
Beside me, Lydia’s hand slid over my wrist, her skin like ice. “You must besouncomfortable,” she murmured.
The orange juice in my mouth turned sour.Trapped in there. As if Beck had held me down while the bush caught fire. As if I hadn’t been the one to actually light the flame. “It was a long time ago,” I managed. “I barely remember.”
“Barely remember?” Mrs. Holland echoed, eyes widening. It was easy to tell which mimosa had tipped her from chatty into reckless. “Rebecca, you were the one who found them, weren’t you?”
Now my stomach dropped further. Mrs. Johnson popped a grape into her mouth, not looking over at me once. “Oh, I remember it perfectly. I’d stepped outside for a—ahem—breath of fresh air, and I could just see the flames billowing up. It was quite the visual, let me tell you!”
I stared at Lydia’s mother, my heart rate climbing.She wouldn’t say it, I told myself, over and over until I believed it.She wouldn’t.
Her fingers fumbled for another grape from the dish. “Eleanor—oh, you were just crying your eyes out. Broke my heart.”
I had been crying, but that’d been after she’d found me. After she’d grabbed me.I thought you were better than your sister, kissing bad boys.
Pressure built in my chest. “It—it all was just an accident?—”
“How do you accidentally light an entire garden onfire?” Mrs. Johnson let out a loud laugh. I could see, in that moment, just how drunk she’d gotten off her mimosa flutes. “All the award-winning rosebushes, up in smoke! You know, I always say that’s what Ms. Nancy’s last straw was. Those were her pride and joy!”
Ms. Jennings scoffed. “Nancy didn’t give a crap about those rosebushes, Rebecca.”
Beck’s voice slithered through my mind, low and furious.Have you moved on from ruining my life?
