of champagne when the caterers weren’t looking and hang out with the girls.
But I had goals, ambitions, responsibilities. So I shoved those juvenile urges down and headed through the crowd to greet the newest guest, my smile genuine for the first time that evening. Jasmin looked a little uncertain, but I couldn’t blame her. She knew no one here, and the people in attendance could keep the legal center going for another thirty years with change from their couches. Which is exactly why I’d made sure Dad put her on the guest list.
“I’m so glad you came.” I gave her a hug.
“Thank you for inviting me. You look beautiful, Donna!”
“Thanks! Come meet my parents.” I led her over to my mom and dad and did the introductions. Once they were chatting easily, I moved away.
I caught up with Uncle Heath and his wife, Serena. They’d been friends with my parents since college and Uncle Heath had inherited his father’s chain of successful stores—GoodGrocer. When all the horrible bullying Mena had been dealing with came to light, he immediately offered to fire the parents of some of the kids involved, his face going red at the dinner table. I’d threatened the assholes with exactly that, but thankfully, the bullies had been dealt with by the police instead.
“How’s school going?” he asked.
“Great.” I smiled. “All As and breezing through my AP classes.”
“That’s my smart girl. Come, let me introduce you to Suzanne Brandy. She’s a partner at Paulsen and Price.” He gently took my elbow and led me to a small group of people by the eight-foot Christmas tree near the bay window.
I knew Suzanne would be there, of course. I’d spent time looking over the guest list and googling anyone I didn’t know. She was married to Andrew, a recent business associate of Daddy’s. I’d been planning to speak to her at some point regardless.
“Suzanne, such a pleasure to see you again.” Heath barged into their conversation, and a couple of people excused themselves, leaving only the lawyer and another woman I wasn’t sure I knew. “This is Donna—the Meads’ oldest and California’s next great legal mind.”
I laughed and dropped my gaze. He was right, of course, but this old-money crowd still subscribed to the idea that it was unbecoming of a young lady to be too confident or proud. “You’re too kind, and you have to say that. Hello, lovely to meet you.”
She shook my outstretched hand. “The pleasure is mine. I’m always happy to meet young people interested in the legal field. Your home is beautiful.”
“Thank you. My mother designed every inch and managed the painstaking remodel.”
“She’s very talented.”
“She is.” I beamed.
“Heath, you know Raine.” Suzanne gestured to the other woman standing with us. “Donna, this is Raine Clayton.”
“The founder and CEO of BestLyf.” I turned my winning smile on her and stuck my hand out. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“Likewise.” She took my hand in a firm, confident grip. We were about the same height, but I was in heels and she was in flats. Her chestnut hair hung loose around her shoulders, and she wore very natural makeup and understated jewelry. She could have been anywhere between forty and sixty years old—either she just had one of those faces or the plastic surgery she’d had was excellent.
We made small talk for a little while, but the longer I stood there, the more I kept seeing the astronomical number I’d spied on that rental statement a couple months ago.
“You know, Raine”—I gave her a polite smile, which she returned before taking a sip of her champagne—“I actually volunteer right near the BestLyf offices.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. It’s a stunning building. The lobby always looks so inviting yet professional. I have no doubt my mother would give it the interior design tick of approval.”
“Thank you. That’s so kind.” Her eyes crinkled at the edges as her smile widened. “Where do you volunteer? I think it’s so important for young people to give back to the community.” The last was delivered to the small group of people beginning to gather around us, who all murmured their agreement.
“I volunteer with Devilbend Community Legal Center every two weeks,” I told her. “It’s right on the corner near your building. Actually, I believe you own the building that the nonprofit rents.”
“Do I?” She chuckled, and everyone else did too, not that she’d made an actual joke. “I own so many I can’t keep track of them all, dear. I have a team of people managing all