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“She’s an experienced forensic photographer. You can get her up to speed on the rest. She’s a fast learner.” Edna picks up her phone, excitedly tapping on the face. “Trust me, once you have my granddaughter at your side, you’ll wonder how you ever survived without her. The vibrations are shifting already.”
I’m sure they are, and it’s exactly what’s putting me on guard.
CHAPTER2
BRITT
“Thank you for inviting me to your group. I’m so excited to be here.” I stand in front of a white marble fireplace with my hands clasped, doing my best not to fidget as I meet the eyes of the small group of elite females sitting on plush velvet sofas and chairs in front of me.
The Greenville Ladies Club meets in Keekee Waters’s well-appointed living room once a month, and I’ve been invited for the first time by my new friend of two days Maylyn Evers.
We met in a “primal movement” fitness class at the Y, which I’d attended with the express purpose of making new friends. I’ve been in Greenville six months, and I still hardly know anybody.
“The GLC is better than the Junior League because we actuallyworkon ourselves,” Maylyn had bragged, tapping her towel around the edges of her fully made-up face after our class. “Keekee’s husband is on the board at Clemson, so they’re practically town royalty.”
I smiled, gulping air like a fish out of water. I was a hot mess in no makeup, my blonde hair frizzed out around my temples, my cheeks pink, and my face shining with sweat. I wasn’t sure I was ready to meet town royalty, but I was tired of eating ramen and watching reruns ofThe Closerwith my dog every night.
Now I’m standing in the nicest room I’ve ever seen, introducing myself to a very select group of twin-set-and-pearls-wearing ladies with perfectly coiffed hair, surrounded by little flowery cups of tea.
Two arched, built-in bookcases are on either side of the fireplace. They hold books with titles likeGet Out of Your Own WayandSomehow I Manage,and mixed throughout are little trinkets and pewter-framed pictures of Keekee’s smiling family.
In one, a little girl in a smocked blue-and-white seersucker dress with a bow as big as her head sits beside a boy in a white short-sleeved shirt and matching seersucker shorts. In another the kids are joined by Keekee and her Ken-doll looking husband. He even has a sweater tied around his neck like one of those Ralph Lauren models.
This entire house could be a Ralph Lauren pop-up.
“We’re so glad to have you, Birgitte.” Keekee’s voice is low and superior-sounding. She’s dressed in a pale pink cardigan and pearls like she’s a queen, and her dark bob looks like it wouldn’t move in a strong wind.
“Everybody just calls me Britt.” I exhale a laugh, glancing down.
I’m like one of those girls on thatBridgertonshow on Netflix, standing in front of the queen, hoping for her approval. Maylynn’s eyebrows are lifted and furrowed in a compassionate arch, and she presses her lips into a smile like she’s so proud of me, her little find.
Glancing down at my thin, pastel dress, I shove my long blonde bangs behind my ears as I take a deep breath and answer the introductory question. “I guess my biggest fear is drowning.”
I leave off the part about how I’m sure it’s clearly related to my escape-artist father’s tragic death by drowning when I was only ten years-old.
“Drowning.” Keekee nods, and the other women follow her lead, nodding as they glance from me to her. “A valid fear.”
Encouraged, I exhale, allowing all my anxieties to flow out on a tidal wave of words. “Like the other night, I had this dream I was driving a car with flat tires in a terrible rain storm. So I drove to a gas station to get air for the tires, but I didn’t realize there was an enormous pool of water in the center of the pumps, and when I hit it, the water just rushed up the sides of the car. Well, I panicked and tried to keep just a-pumping the gas pedal so it wouldn’t stall out before I got to the other side. Well, the engine started sputtering, so I opened the door to try and push it to the other side, Fred Flintstone-style…” I turn to the side, holding my hands on an invisible steering wheel in front of me, and I stomp to demonstrate how I was trying to push the car through the water. “But when I opened the door, all that water just flooded into the vehicle, and I was being sucked down deeper and deeper because the bottom of the car had disappeared and I was actually in a black ocean. Until I woke up in a panic, covered in sweat.”
I shrug, helplessly slapping my hands down to my sides. “Analyze that,” I laugh, nodding as I glance around the room.
It’s so quiet, I hear a car door slam from across the street. All eyes in the room are fixed on me, and Maylynn’s compassionate pride has turned to confused horror.
“Well, I’ll be.” Is all Keekee says. “It seemssomeoneforgot the rule about not driving through standing water. Mary Pat? Would you like to go next?”
Heat prickles up the back of my neck, and the other attendees blink down to their teacups as if they’re afraid my rejection might be contagious if they look at me.
I am clearly not the diamond of this season’sBridgertoncourt.
Mary Pat hops up quickly, stepping beside me in front of the fireplace. She bounces on the toes of her white canvas tennis shoes, effectively scooting me to the wings as she shares her biggest fear.
“My biggest fear is embarrassing Nelson when his parents visit.” Mary Pat rolls her eyes and laughs as she tilts her pixie head side to side. “I know, I’m such anairhead, but I’m always afraid I’ll put too much cilantro in the guacamole or I’ll forget to empty the bathroom trash can. His mother is so strict about cleaning.”
“Tell me about it.” One of the ladies across from us joins the chat. “Bill’s mother actually checks behind the children’s ears when she hugs them. Like they’re not bathed!”
All the ladies squeal and launch into stories of their monsters-in-law. My entire body is on fire with humiliation. I don’t have a mother-in-law or kids, and I tuck my chin as I return to my seat beside Maylynn, who shifts away from me to talk to her neighbor.
The rest of the meeting, no one speaks to me, and I spend the hour nibbling a tiny sandwich with no crust and listening to the women discuss getting grass stains out of their children’s “play clothes” or what to do when you accidentally shrink your husband’s wool sweaters.
