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“Everyone,” Jess said as she presented Liza in formal fashion, “this is Liza Brooks. She recently moved to Wilder and ya’ll can just eat your hearts out, because she’s agreed to work for me!”
Liza actually blushed at how Jess fussed over her—as though these ladies might actually fawn over her too. She’d already experienced enough cold shoulders to know that wouldn’t be the case. But it was sweet of Jess to make such a big deal out of her.
A squat woman dressed to the nines—complete with a monstrosity of a pink straw hat and matching satin bow that would’ve made Scarlet O’Hara jealous—stepped forward and offered her white-gloved hand to Liza. “I’m Mrs. Emelda Grant, wife of Robert James Grant, the mayor of Wilder.”
Liza resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She’d dined with the mayor of New York City—and the Governor of the state—for God’s sake. And their wives had never presented themselves with such fanfare, such pretentious importance. New York Society had its snobs, but she was beginning to think the city had nothing on these southern belles.
Gracious as can be, though, Liza daintily clasped Emelda’s hand and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Grant.”
She made a small sound that could’ve been a Hmm. As if to say, “Of course it’s a pleasure to meet me.”
Liza bit her tongue on that one.
As Jess introduced h
er around, she discovered that, in addition to the mayor’s wife, the “crème-de-la-crème of Wilder Society”, as Jess had put it, included three wives of City Council members—who definitely did not take a shine to her, likely because of her association with a man looking to unseat one of their husbands. Two doctors’ wives. Four lawyers’ wives. Two widows. And, of course, the good reverend’s wife.
“Lydia,” Liza said as she turned to the last woman in the group.
“So nice to see you again,” Mrs. Bain said. Liza could’ve sworn she was channeling a Civil War debutante forced to be polite to a Yankee. Her light brown eyes flashed to Liza’s hair and a disapproving frown crossed her bare lips for just the briefest of moments.
Recovering so fast that Liza was sure no one but her had noticed the disdain Lydia felt for her—and her do-it-yourself bottle job—her Royal Witchiness turned to Emelda and said, “This has been a lovely reception.” She set her empty glass on Sean’s tray and added, “Shall we proceed to lunch? We do have business to attend to.”
That haughty tone of hers was like fingernails on a chalkboard. But Liza kept her temper in check. Though, she wasn’t about to be dismissed one more time by this woman.
The New Yorker in her took over. Raising her voice in order to get everyone’s attention, she said, “Ladies, if you’d allow me to present this afternoon’s luncheon…” She turned away from them, not giving anyone—Lydia Bain, in particular—the option to protest.
They followed Liza down the hallway, the little group abuzz with excitement over what was next to come. But when Liza reached the door to the meeting room, she was all alone. She turned back, only to find the ladies had all stopped at the door to the kitchen on the opposite side of the hall.
Where they’d normally find the feeding trough.
Liza smiled. “We’re breaking tradition today, ladies,” she said, her gaze landing on Lydia. “Jess and I thought you deserved a special treat for all that you do to support volunteer work in Wilder. Really, it’s such a noble cause.” She truly did mean that part. “Your monetary and personal contributions have, I’m sure, helped to shape this community. I realize I’m new here, but even in just the short amount of time I’ve been in Wilder, I’ve experienced a sense of community that I’m certain you all are greatly responsible for. So we thought a modicum of gratitude was due.”
Liza stepped aside—hoping she hadn’t laid that last part on too thick. You could take the girl out of the PR gig, but not the PR out of the girl—it was in her blood.
The women moved toward her, looking skeptical, excited and baffled all at the same time. Particularly Lydia, for whom Liza had a special smile.
The first to walk through the door was Emelda. She let out a sharp gasp and the other women all but trampled her to get inside the meeting room to see what had grabbed her immediate attention. Liza’s glance slid to Jess, who winked at her.
As the Junior League of Wilder filled the room Liza had set for them, a loud fervor erupted as they took in the sights and sounds and smells. Liza and Jess lingered outside. Several minutes passed before Emelda joined them in the hallway.
“Well, I just…” She shook her head, clearly at a loss for words. Liza could see it pained her greatly to admit she’d gotten more than she’d expected from the stranger in town. “This is just so lovely,” she said with a stiff upper lip. But Liza could see she was impressed, despite herself. “Quite a treat, really.”
“I’m glad you like it,” she replied.
“Well.” Emelda seemed to consider her words before she said, “We hope to see you at service next Sunday.” Then she turned on her stubby heels and marched back into the room, her ginormous hat barely fitting through the doorframe.
Jess clasped Liza’s arm and said, “Thank you! Really!”
Liza smiled back. Obviously, these women’s opinions mattered to her new friend. But today, she’d also seen a side of Jess that told Liza she was loyal to who she was. Just one more thing Liza liked about her new boss.
“I’ll come back later and clean up,” she said.
Jess nodded. “Thank you. I’ve got Aunt Murdy’s party to go to this afternoon, so I appreciate your help.”
“I appreciate the job.”
Extracting herself from Jess, Liza popped into the kitchen to thank Sean profusely for his help.
