Walking with all due grace on her tan pumps, Rachel slides into the backseat of a Rolls Royce. A different driver than Smith holds open the door for her. I head around to the other side and open my own door despite the driver’s weird glance. Inside are ridiculously comfortable and soft tan leather seats. Rachel has a classic kind of beauty. Wide blue eyes, a straight nose, and nicely shaped lips. Yet another woman in the family who could have easily been a model. Beck’s dad sure had a type. Which yet again makes me wonder what I’m doing here. Though Beck isn’t his father and my insecurities need to remember this fact.
“I guess this is all a lot to take in,” she says as the engine purrs to life and we start moving forward.
“You could say that.”
“Beck is a good boy. Or a good man, rather.”
“Yes, he is.”
She nods. “It won’t necessarily be easy if you decide to stay. If you continue seeing each other. The family is…complicated. But I’d imagine Beck will make it worth your while.”
No idea if she’s after information or not, but I keep my mouth shut.
We drive in silence, the elaborate gardens and grand houses giving way to mini-mansions that are no less impressive. I grew up in a three-bedroom bungalow in a nice enough area. Nothing like this.
“Are we going to a mall?” I ask.
“Yes, Cherry Tree.”
“Do they have Old Navy or Nordstrom Rack?”
Rachel just blinks. “I’m not sure.”
“It’s just…I’m on a budget.”
“Alice,” she says, her hands stilling on the iPad. “You don’t need to worry about that. Arrangements have been made.”
“What do you mean?”
“I realize this might seem a little odd, but I’d ask that you trust me.”
“Trust you with what exactly?”
“Here we are,” she says.
We’re already pulling up to the curb outside a sprawling and rather magnificent mall. It’s all glossy brown and black stone and quite possibly the grandest shopping complex I’ve ever seen. Chances are, I couldn’t afford a coffee in this place. A man in a gray-checked two-piece suit stands waiting on the sidewalk. He’s about a decade older than me and a hundred times more stylish. The aqua-colored tie confirms it. Behind him stands an older lady in a silk floral jumpsuit. I’m not just out of my depth here, I’m drowning.
“They’re personal shoppers.” Rachel searches in her handbag, pulling out a black credit card. “They’ll help you today. Just give them this.”
“Is that Beck’s?”
“The card? Yes.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not…that’s not something I’m okay with.”
For a moment, she just looks at me. “Alice, you have ethics and I applaud that. It’s refreshing, really. But the fact is, you’re dating an Elliot and in this town that means something. I don’t mean to be harsh, but the way you look now does not fit into this world.”
“I know I’m not as—”
“Now, I do not doubt that you have a wonderful personality. But I repeat, you do not fit,” she says in a not unkind voice. “And while you’re part of this world, you need to. Otherwise, you’re going to cause unnecessary friction for both Beck and yourself. With his family, his friends, people he does business with…pretty much everyone.”
My secondhand Levi’s feel so judged right now. Which is bullshit because I love them. And yet.
“It is not going to be smooth, Beck sliding back into his old life here. Especially not with Jack’s death. Beck ruffled a lot of feathers when he left the way he did and now again with bringing you here. If you let the personal shoppers help you, then you’ll be one less thing he needs to worry about.”
“Since you have his card, I take it Beck knows about all this?” I ask.
“When I saw him this morning, I told him I was taking you to lunch and that there might be extra expenses.”
“So you didn’t tell him.”
She stares off into the distance with a faint line between her brows. “I find matters like these are often best sorted out between us girls.”
These fucking people.
“It’s your choice of course, Alice,” she says. “All I can do is encourage you to see the big picture and move forward in a way that will bring you the best chance of success.”
For a moment I just sit there, staring at the hands in my lap, at the chips in my black nail polish. Also, my cuticles are a mess due to me picking at them. One of