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“I wonder if you wouldn’t mind excusing your mother and me for a few minutes. I just have a few things to discuss with her,” she says as if she doesn’t really give a shit whether I mind or not.
My mother’s grin falters, and she looks like she’s not sure if she should be excited or scared. “You want to talk? To me? Tonight?” she stammers.
“Only for a moment. Kalilah, the young people are in the smaller ballroom. We’ve set up a small casino for you all and the band in there’s playing music that’s a little more contemporary.”
“I’ll send Morgan to find you when we’re done.”
I don’t like the look in her eyes, and suddenly, I’m thinking I’d just like to go home.
“Kal, go on. Us ladies are just gonna have a quick gab and then I’ll be back.”
“Okay,” I say and watch as Mrs. Wilde links arms with my mom and leads her out of the room into the large foyer of the house.
13
MIDNIGHT
KAL
“Kalilah, you’re still here?” Fifteen minutes after she and my mother disappeared, Mrs. Wilde is back. And she’s alone.
“I thought you were going to find the young people.” Her cool silky words coil around me and my breathing constricts.
She’s up to something.
“Where’s my mother?” I watch the door for a glimpse of her dark head.
“She’ll be along in a minute. I think she’s using the powder room.” She waves in the general direction of the hallway.
The unease in my stomach intensifies and I start to walk away. “I’ll go find her.”
“My goodness, you two are attached at the hip,” she purrs as she gives me a once over.
“You do look lovely tonight. I see why he likes you.” Her cold appraisal makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“I’m going to look for my mother.” I start to back away.
She grabs my arm. “Come, let me show you to the young people’s room. Let your mother enjoy a night with her colleagues and neighbors.”
She steers me into a long corridor and then up the stairs. She takes her hand off my back, but her presence behind me is heavy and menacing. We reach the top of the stairs and stand at the mouth of a long, wide corridor.
The light gray walls are bare save for a huge painting of a woman caught in the middle of a sweeping leap on the wall. Her body is wrapped in a white cloth, her arms are raised over her head and her eyes are closed in an expression of bliss. It’s arresting and as I stare at it, I realize the beauty captured in the painting is none other than Tina Wilde.
“Oh, wow. Is that you?” I ask in wonder. I turn around to find her watching me, much the way I’d been staring at her painting.
“Yes. I used to be a dancer and my late husband had it commissioned before he died. Do you like it?” she asks conversationally.
“Very much. You were so beautiful. I mean you still are, but this could be in a museum somewhere.”
“Hmm, thank you. It feels like a lifetime ago,” she says absently.
“I’ve always wished I could paint, capture things like this. Never had the chance to take lessons.”
“Maybe one day,” she says in a non-committal way before her smile brightens. “Anyway, just go to the end of the hall, it’s the last door on the left. Have fun.” She stands there, waiting for me to go. I glance down the hall and I gather my courage.
“What are you waiting for? All of your friends are there.”
“Okay. Thanks,” I mumble to myself and start down the hall. I rub my bare arms as I walk. It’s cool in the house but these goose bumps and the pangs of dread in my gut, I just can’t shake.
