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Violet was struck by a wave of fear. Unless in New York City, her grandmother rarely went anywhere unchaperoned, certainly not on the party circuit. “No going solo.”
“Vi, I’m a grown woman and—”
“Don’t make me call Dad.” Not that Vi wanted to call him either. But she needed an iron clad argument.
Grandma Dotty lifted her head, but half her face was still covered by blue-gray faux fur. “I didn’t think you were like your father and saw me as a little old lady in her twilight years. Would you like to be viewed that way? I mean, what would Shakespeare think about me enjoying life while you read about make-believe characters written over five hundred years ago?”
Low blow.
Violet got to her feet and came around the table. She carefully tipped Grandma Dotty’s hood back so that she could look her in the eye. “I get it. This isThe Taming of the Shrew. You’re Bianca, beloved by all, and I’m Kate, the party-pooping shrew.”
The life of the party crossed her arms over her chest and thrust her nose in the air. “Well, if the shoe fits.”
“Grandma.” Even though it was Vi’s metaphor, the fact that her grandmother agreed stung.
“Violet.” Her grandmother took Violet’s hands and gave them a shake. “I have a chance to prove to something to Xuri and myself. But to do that, I have to be able to hang with the in-crowd. And I’ll do it regardless if it’s one party, two, or three.”
She made a good case. And yet, Vi suspected that a night on the party circuit with her grandmother wouldn’t end well. But it was hard to turn her grandmother down when there was such an earnest plea in her eyes.
How much trouble could a sweet little old lady get into during a night of revelry in the Hamptons?
Violet sighed.
History said she could get in a lot of trouble. Just ask Violet’s siblings and cousins. “If I do this, will you take a day off from your model-training regimen? Can I have one day without sweaty, pretzel-twisting interruptions to work on my book?” She should make more progress now that she had no kissing distractions, but it was as if she had a relationship hangover. And they hadn’t even been dating!
“Vi, you have a deal.” Her grandmother practically glowed. She held up her fingers as if she was making a Girl Scout pledge. “We’ll sleep in over the weekend. That’s not one day. It’s two. And I will be so quiet that you won’t even know I’m here.”
“But you will be here,” Violet felt compelled to add, because she knew a dodgy reply when she heard one. And this sounded like her grandmother had plans to go somewhere else.
“I’ll always be right where you can find me,” Grandma Dotty said cagily.
And no matter how hard Violet tried to pin her down, that was as close to a promise of being house-bound as she could get.
It was going to be a long night, but hopefully, not a long weekend.
*
Coop showed up at eight o’clock on Friday night to pick up the Summer ladies and take them to a party. The sun was low in the horizon and the air was hot and muggy.
He’d heard there was a series of parties hosted by Dotty’s favorite designer this weekend, and all of them were rumored to be wild. The monied crowd could party ugly, something he hadn’t acknowledged until he’d been one of the help. He wasn’t happy about Dotty and Vivi going. But what could he do? Vivi had shut him out.
He liked the evening even less when Vivi walked down the front steps in a swanky little black dress and delicate high-heeled sandals. Her hair fell in nearly-tamed brown curls over her shoulders. And her eyes were luminous, seemingly larger than usual when highlighted by artfully applied, bold make-up.
Did she look like this a week ago when I swept her off her feet?
He didn’t think so.
“You ladies look beautiful.” He held the car door open for them to get in. “Maybe I should go inside the party with you to beat the men back.”
“Naw.” Dotty patted his cheek before getting in, smelling of rose water and face powder. She wore a loose-fitting silver sheath beneath a white denim gangster jacket, undoubtedly the Xuri coat she’d been talking about dancing in all week. “I know Kung Fu. Or is that Feng Shui?” She slid across the seat to make room for Vivi.
“Definitely Feng Shui.” Vivi joked, moving with the kind of grace he’d expect from a New York City heiress, exhibiting none of the early morning exercise frump he was so fond of. She smelled of exotic flowers and fancy fundraisers. He wanted his grumpy, wildflower-smelling professor back.
Coop walked slowly around the car to get in.
“You should go back in and get your purse,” Vivi was saying.
“I don’t need a purse. I have all these deep pockets.” Dotty flapped the ends of her coat. “I have my cell phone in there and twenty dollars mad money.”
