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Ms. Gratton beamed. “Thank you, dear.” She waved over another waiter and grabbed a new glass from his tray. “Now, your daddy tells me that you’re doing theater this summer. What part are you?”

“I’m not on the stage. I’m in charge of lighting design,” Eliza said.

“Oh.” Ms. Gratton frowned. “I thought he meant you were in the play. What a pity.”

“She is in the play.” I took Eliza’s hand. “Eliza’s amazing with the lighting.”

“It’s true,” Lauryn added. “Without her, the mood would be entirely different.” She smiled and nodded at me before we continued facing off against our shared nemesis.

“Did you ever perform on the stage, Ms. Gratton?” Eliza asked.

“Me? On the stage?” Ms. Gratton’s shrill laugh made my skin crawl. “Heavens, no, dear. In my time, that was reserved for the more…free-spirited kinds. The ones who blew whichever way the wind took them, or to whomever it took them. Ones like your grandmother, Eliza.”

My free hand tensed. God, I wish I had a baseball right about now. It always chilled me out.

Nana loved Eliza’s grandmother, and while I only knew her mostly in passing, I’d be damned if I was going to let this viper say shit at her party. “I heard Marguerite Crowley was incredible on the stage,” I said.

Eliza beamed at me and mouthed a silent Thank you.

“Oh, she was, Mr. Fulton. She was.” Ms. Gratton took a sip of her drink. “Pity Eliza didn’t follow in her footsteps.”

Jesus Christ, this woman had no chill.

Lauryn stepped away from TJ and flanked the other side of Eliza like a protective mama bear. “The real pity would be if Eliza had followed in her footsteps. We need someone strong like her in the booth,” she said.

“Oh, of course.” Ms. Gratton tipped her glass to Lauryn and then waved someone over from behind us.

“I hear you’re quite the pitcher, Mr. Fulton,” she said.

Great. Now it’s my turn.

“Eh, he’s okay,” TJ mumbled before grabbing a forgotten cookie from the nearest table and shoving it into his mouth.

I forced a small smile. “I’m doing all right. Thank you.” My phone buzzed a couple of times in my back pocket. I turned away and snuck a quick look.

Brett: Have you seen Ben?

Brett: He didn’t come to the house again last night.

Fuck. I totally forgot to call him back. And what the hell does Brett mean by “again”?

I tried responding, but Eliza pulled me back toward the conversation. “Reed, Ms. Gratton was just asking about this season.”

“Yes. I’m wonderin’ how someone as young as you is handlin’ all the pressure?” Ms. Gratton flicked a piece of her fake blond hair behind her shoulder. “What with what happened last year at that showcase…”

“Not to mention with everything your grandparents have invested into this tournament.” Chad Dupont appeared at Ms. Gratton’s side dressed in a light gray suit.

Who wears a suit in the dead of summer, anyway?

“I thought my dad told me you couldn’t come?” Eliza asked him.

“Change of plans.” He winked at her, and I definitely wanted a baseball now. But not to calm me down.

“I take it a day at a time,” I replied to Ms. Gratton’s meddling. My jaw felt so tight, it hurt to say the words. “Do you play, Chad?”

He laughed, and my fingers itched. “No. I play golf and water polo.”

TJ snorted. “Of course you do.”