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“What?” Mama demanded, her face paling. “How could you not tell me you have a new job? You know how worried I am about you! How could you not do something as simple as pick up the phone to tell me you got a job? And where, if I’m allowed to ask, are you working?”
“It’s a little book boutique, very specialized, in the old downtown area. You probably haven’t seen it before.”
Mama scoffed. “Well, excuse me for not having the sophisticated tastes in books that you do.”
Jettie circled Mama, shaking her head. “You really shouldn’t have told her, Jane. It’s going to make them stay longer.”
“I know,” I ground out through clenched teeth.
“Jane! What a hurtful thing to say!” Mama exclaimed.
For a moment, I lost track of the various conversations. “Wait, what?”
“Now, I think you need to just go upstairs and get dressed.” Mama sighed, plucking at my pajama top. “I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to join your family for a simple meal. You know, your Grandma Ruthie only has so much time left.”
“Mama, I can’t go out with you tonight.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“Because I—” I looked up, in the hopes that a plausible excuse would be written on the ceiling, I suppose. Monday night—
what could I be doing on a Monday night? If I said I had plans with Zeb, Mama would tell me I could see him anytime. I couldn ’t say, “Date with Gabriel,” because Mama would demand to see him.
“Um, a party!” I cried, peering through the kitchen door and spotting Missy’s card stuck to my fridge. “I’ve been invited to a cocktail party tonight.”
“Who would invite you to a cocktail party?” Jenny asked, eyeing me suspiciously. Even without telepathy, I could tell what she was thinking: Who would invite me to a cocktail party but not her?
“It’s just a networking thing.” I smiled and winked at Jenny. “You know, all of the Hollow’s best and brightest young professionals, getting together, making connections, swapping numbers.”
OK, it sort of sounded like a swingers’ cocktail party when I put it like that. Jenny’s lips disappeared as if she’d eaten a persimmon, though, so it was worth it.
“Well, I’m so glad!” Mama cried, patting my back. “It’s wonderful that your new job has you socializing.”
“You know what they say about jobs that involve socializing,” Grandma Ruthie said under her breath. From behind her, Aunt Jettie slapped the back of her head. Grandma cried out and turned to look for what had hit her. I snickered. Jenny shot me an annoyed look.
This wasn’t turning out to be such a bad visit after all.
Mama turned on me, hands on hips, asking, “So, what are you going to wear?”
Oh, crap.
17
Never leave a vampire social gathering without thanking your host. A faux pas like this can lead to feuds lasting hundreds of years.
—From The Guide for the Newly Undead
It took another hour and fourteen outfits before I could get everyone out the door and get ready for the party. I’d decided to actually attend, since (a) it would get Missy off my back, and (b) Mama was likely to swing back by the house to see if I really left or not.
I knew that Ophelia had told me to stay home, keep a low profile, but if nothing else, attending the party would prevent further “Oh, come on, shug!” calls from Missy. Also, I kind of wanted to see what the gossipy Undead would say about me to my face.
Besides, Jenny and Grandma had a wonderful time “helping me,” perched on my bed, picking each and every outfit apart.
The pink dress made my ankles look chunky. The yellow sweater made me look sallow. The green jacket made my shoulders look like a linebacker’s.
I finally agreed to Mama’s chosen outfit—a navy-blue dress I’d had since high school, complete with a white sailor ’s collar—just to get them out of the house. And then I ran back upstairs to put on black slacks and a soft blue cashmere sweater that Aunt Jettie had bought for me on my last birthday. Touched by the gesture, Jettie agreed to stick around the house that night, just in case Jenny and Grandma returned to help themselves to the silver.
Missy lived in a brand-new subdivision called Deer Haven, in an unassuming little two-story ranch house that looked exactly like the twenty-seven unassuming little two-story ranch houses on the same street, most of which were empty. It was easy to find the party, as Missy’s place was surrounded by cars. From the front door, I could hear smooth jazz piano and people chattering and laughing. Before I died, my idea of a good party had involved an ice cream cake. Somehow, I doubted that would be offered at this soiree.
