Page 232 of Wicked Brutal

“Today.”

“At school?” I nod. Her eyes come back to mine. “Did you know he was coming?”

“No. He was in town.” I say it exactly the way Victor did. Mom’s mouth tightens. I pull the cream envelope from my bag. “He brought me something else too.”

The second she sees the name embossed across the front, she goes still. “Celeste Fournier agreed?”

My fingers stop on the envelope. “Agreed?”

Mom releases my hand. “She’s extremely selective.”

“You know her?”

“Everyone knows Celeste.” Mom picks up her tea. I watch her.

“Did she plan Victor’s other weddings?” The cup stops before it reaches her mouth. “Mom?”

“I don’t remember.”

I stare at her. She drinks her tea. “You do.”

Her eyes lift to mine. I don’t push again. Not yet. Mom is like a frightened animal sometimes — the harder I reach, the farther she retreats. So I set Celeste’s envelope down and wait. Finally, she sighs.

“I knew Marianne.” There it is.

“How well?”

“Not very.”

“But you knew her.”

“Yes.”

“What was she like?”

Mom looks down into her cup. “She was lovely.” I wait. Mom sighs again. “She was funny. Very social. She served on several charity boards. She traveled. She was always doing something.”

“Before Victor?”

Her eyes flick toward the kitchen doorway. Dad isn’t home. She still checks.

“She changed after they married.”

A cold feeling settles in my stomach. “How?”

“She stopped doing things without him.”

“Because she wanted to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Mom.”

“I don’t know, Alison.” Her voice sharpens, then immediately lowers. She looks toward the doorway again. I notice that too. “Victor began answering invitations for both of them,” she says quietly. “Sometimes Marianne would agree to something and then he would cancel it later. She stopped returning calls as often. Eventually, people stopped seeing much of her at all.”

“And Victor explained why.”

Mom looks at me. “Yes.”