beamed, and Olivia rolled her eyes.
“How’s the house hunt going?” Olivia changed the subject.
“It’s not a hunt per se, because Richard and I don’t know if we’re moving here for sure yet, but I have to say, I’m loving San Francisco.” Alina leaned back to allow their server to set their food on the table. “We saw some great houses yesterday. Didn’t we, Mom?”
“They were acceptable,” Eleanor acknowledged. “But not perfect. Keep looking.”
The meal dragged on. Olivia was convinced she’d been sitting there—downing mimosa after mimosa to soothe her nerves—for days, but in reality, brunch lasted less than two hours. Their conversation topics were the same as always: Alina’s wedding, Alina’s job, Richard’s job, Eleanor’s social obligations, etc.
Olivia’s dad had left them when she was less than a year old, but Eleanor had gone through three more marriages since then—all to wealthy, successful men who were the polar opposite of Olivia’s deadbeat father and who left Eleanor a good chunk of their money in their divorce settlements. Say what you want about Olivia’s mother, but she was a master at manipulating men into forgoing a prenup. Her last husband had parted with several million dollars and his summer house on Lake Michigan.
“Olivia, where are you living right now?” Alina asked, finally realizing that none of them had asked about Olivia or her life since the discussion about her thighs. Not that she minded—the less her family knew, the better. They were more critical than Simon Cowell in his worst American Idol days. “Maybe we should look into that neighborhood, too.”
Olivia gulped down another mouthful of orange juice and champagne. No way was she telling them she was living with Sammy. Her mother had a steel-trap memory, and she’d definitely remember Sammy as the guy who threw away a NASA career to be a baker. Sammy may be successful, but Eleanor’s tolerance for creative types hovered near the same level as her tolerance for public transportation and white after Labor Day. AKA, close to zero.
“You don’t want to live there,” Olivia said. “The place isn’t, uh, in the best neighborhood.”
Sammy lived in an excellent neighborhood, but her family didn’t need to know that. The thought of any of them coming within a mile radius of him made her stomach churn. She wanted to protect him from the Tangs at all costs.
Alina’s eyes widened. “It’s not in...” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “The ghetto, is it?”
“No, and don’t use that word. It’s offensive.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think it’s offensive,” Richard added.
Olivia sighed. There was no use in explaining. She’d tried multiple times in the past, but it always fell on deaf ears and led to heated arguments.
“By the way, I meant to tell you earlier, but it slipped my mind with everything else I had going on.” Alina sipped her drink. “I received an invitation to speak at a conference the weekend of my bachelorette, so I moved the celebration up. My bachelorette is now the weekend of September nineteenth.”
Olivia’s French toast turned to ash in her mouth. “What?”
“Is that a problem? I thought that was a suitable alternative.”
“That’s the weekend of Kris’s wedding.” Olivia strove to maintain control. “I’ve talked about it for months, and I already bought my tickets for Italy.”
“You have?” Alina blinked.
“Yes.” Irritation pumped through Olivia’s veins. “Is there another alternative? Maybe you can decline the conference invite. You’ve had the bachelorette date set for a year.”
Alina’s face collapsed into a frown. “I can’t decline the invite. It’s the most prestigious conference in my field. One of their original speakers pulled out, and they’re counting on me. Plus, September nineteenth is the only weekend that works for all the bridesmaids.”
“Except me.” The metal from Olivia’s fork dug into her hand. “I didn’t realize you’d already checked with everyone else before you told me.”
“I was going to tell you earlier.” A defensive note crept into Alina’s voice. “Like I said, I forgot.”
“Olivia, this is your sister’s bachelorette,” Eleanor cut in. “Your only sister. You have other friends besides Kris. Family comes first.”
Olivia’s head was this close to pulling a Mount Etna and exploding. “I’m a bridesmaid in Kris’s wedding.”
“You’re a bridesmaid in Alina’s wedding, too.”
“Well, maybe if I’d been the maid of honor—since I’m her only sister and all—we wouldn’t have this problem,” Olivia snapped. “I would’ve sorted out the logistics better.”
Alina paled, but Eleanor looked bored. “Don’t tell me you’re still upset about that. Holding a grudge is not classy.”
“You know why I asked Kayla!” Alina burst out,