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I gave them both a brittle smile before following Maxine out of the lounge, finally letting out a breath when we stepped into the lobby. It felt like I was a death-row inmate being granted a brief stay of execution. And yes, spending the rest of the night at a table with Sissy and Greerwasthe equivalent of an execution — the execution of joy and my will to live. If that sounded dramatic, blame it on the champs.
“Well,thatwasn’t awkward at all.” Maxine stopped in a secluded corner of the lobby where we were conveniently hidden behind a row of large potted plants. “Is there anything you want to tell me about?”
My head reared back slightly in confusion at her question. “Uhh, no. Like what?”
“Oh I don’t know, like why you were just looking at Holden like he was a tall glass of water on a hot summer day?”
“What? No, that’s crazy.” I sputtered, not quite able to make eye contact with her.
She stared at me as if she were assessing me. Her scrutiny lasted for so long that I felt myself shifting from foot to foot at the intensity of her stare. I looked at the glass in my hand, surprised and disappointed to find that it was already empty.
“I’m willing to give you a reprieve tonight, but don’t think we’re not talking about whatever that was later.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I mumbled to her back, following her down the hall like a petulant child.
The ballroom was considerably more crowded than when we had arrived, making it harder to spot potential landmines like my sister or the freaking walking perfection that was Greer.
“Let’s grab another drink and then check out the silent auction,” Maxine stated, her eyes scanning the crowd. “Maybe they’ll have a coupon for free plastic surgery and you can get whatever’s going on with your face fixed.”
One of my hands traveled up to explore my lips and the curve of my cheeks, trying to discover whatever flaw Max was talking about.
“What’s wrong with my face?”
“Your expression is a cross between a constipated lizard and my third-grade teacher, who hated children with a fiery passion,” she replied, not skipping a beat as she grabbed two champagne flutes from a passing server’s tray. “Here you go.”
I rolled my eyes but accepted the glass. We began moving in the general direction of the auction items.
“I’m doing my best here. This isn’t exactly a comfortable situation for me,” I said.
“Exactly why your facial expression should be saying ‘aloof and unaffected,’ not ‘extra gassy with a side of stick up your —’”
“All right,” I interrupted, half a second away from slapping a hand over her mouth as we neared the maze of tables covered with items. “I get the point, thank you.”
We spent the next ten minutes looking at things we couldn’t afford, in this life or the next. Did people really have the ability to take off work for a month-long skiing trip to Aspen? A mystery basket of Versace had both Max and me biting back laughs.
We were halfway through the tables when an announcer appeared on stage, asking everyone to find their table so dinner could be served.
“Well, I do declare!” Maxine announced loudly, and in a very bad Southern accent, when we found our name cards at the table. “I believe this is us, Sutton.”
I gave her my mama’s best “knock it off right this minute” look as we adjusted our gowns to sit. It did not appear to inspire the same level of terror in her as it had on Sissy and me when we were children.
“Butter my biscuits, this tablescape is just stunning! I once attended a little soiree at Ina’s home in the Hamptons — nothing special, just a few of her close friends — and between us, her tablescapes don’t even compare. Bless her heart.”
I coughed, choking on air. Why had I thought inviting her would be a good idea?
“Behave,” I hissed, the pointed toe of my heels giving her shin a warning under the table.
A handsome man who looked to be just on the other side of sixty pulled out the chair next to Max. I saw her furtively glance behind him, presumably looking for his plus-one. He smiled at her as he sat, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in her head when no one claimed the empty chair next to him.
“Hello.” Max extended her hand to the newcomer, Southern accent suddenly vanishing. I watched as she surreptitiously checked his hand for any sign of a wedding ring. Classic Max move.
I turned my attention to the center of the table as they made their introductions, hoping to find an overflowing breadbasket. Naturally, there was none; rich people hated breadbaskets. Whether it was the carbs that offended them, or the notion of freebies was hard to say.
The St. Jameses approached the table like a pack of hyenas descending on a herd of antelope, predatory eyes sizing up their intended prey. Only Macon wore a genuine smile. The other members of the pack were sporting their polite-society smiles, which I had been familiar with since childhood. Each member of the family found their spot, Holden and Greer taking the seats directly across from me.
I was so busy trying to eavesdrop on Holden and Greer’s conversation that I didn’t even notice their grandaddy had taken the spot next to me until a raspy, dry “Sutton” caught my attention. The smile slid off my face as I met his ice-cold grey eyes. They had once been a vibrant blue, but I liked to imagine the color had been drained from them after he’d sold his soul to the devil in the time-honored family tradition. The exchange would have happened in a gold-wallpapered secret chamber of their mansion, though, not at a crossroads. Crossroads were so pedestrian.
“Mr. St. James,” I managed with a polite head nod. As much as I disliked this man, I would try my best not to embarrass Mama.Trybeing the key word.
