Gilt_ By Invitation Only - Geneva Lee Page 0,22

slight tremble she’s trying to hide. It’s possible she’s hurting more than she lets on.

That doesn’t mean I can run away from my obligations here, though. “Exactly, I—”

She stops me. “That's why I need you to come.”

“I’ll be there in June like I promised, but I can't stay longer.”

The prodigal waiter arrives with our breakfast entrees in time to soften my proclamation. I’ve never been so happy to see a stack of pancakes in my life. Across from me, my mother doesn’t touch her chicken salad. Instead she stares directly at me, but her eyes remain vacant. Her mind is elsewhere even though she’s sitting at the same table.

I cut into my food slowly, wondering if I should clap my hands or shake her. But after a few minutes, she blinks rapidly. Taking one look at my plate, she frowns. “Careful with the carbs, darling.”

She’s back. I pick up the syrup and pour more onto my plate. So much for the acting like an adult plan. If it means being as checked out as she is, I think I prefer to stay at my current level of maturity.

“Were you at the party at the West's last night?” She picks up her fork but doesn’t bother to use it.

But it had the unsettling effect she, no doubt, hoped for. All the questions I’d left at the door when I came in race through my brain. There goes my appetite. “I thought we were avoiding morbid topics at breakfast.”

It doesn’t make sense to me that she’s so desperate to avoid all mention of my sister, but here she is bringing up the latest scandal. The woman really should run for president. She knows exactly how to spin a situation in her favor.

“I cannot imagine what Evelyn is going through right now.” There’s an unusual amount of concern in her voice. Given our family history with the Wests, I didn’t think she would care. Just like I wouldn’t care if I hadn’t been there last night.

If I hadn’t been in the same house as a dead body and possible a murderer.

“I didn't know you knew her.” I try to sound casual even as my pulse ratchets up.

“Of course, I do.” She stops, visibly adjusting as she corrects herself. “Or I did before I got involved with your father. When you take away the tourists this town is smaller than people think. I'd reach out but right now…”

Nerves get the better of me. I’d hoped to avoid the media circus, choosing to foolishly believe that what happened last night in no way will affect me. But most of Belle Mère Prep was at that party. The chances are decent that I know the person. “Did they say who died?”

Her eyes dart to her phone. I know she wants to check for the latest information but she refrains from picking it up. I, on the other hand, wish she would. At least this subject doesn’t directly affect us, and it feels a lot safer than continuing to discuss Becca or college or my summer plans.

“Not yet,” she says without bothering to check.

“Maybe it was Evelyn.” I try to be delicate in my suggestion even if I hadn’t known until a few moments ago that my mother knew Mrs. West.

But the suggestion doesn’t phase her. “She was out of town. Rumor has it that she prefers to make herself scarce when her children are throwing parties.”

“Children?”

“Excuse me,” our server interrupts, “can I get you ladies another drink?”

“Yes.”

“No,” I call over my mother, but she merely repeats herself with a smile.

“I’m the parent, remember?”

Maybe it would be better if both her and my dad had their parental rights revoked. Neither of them seem capable of healthfully dealing with their emotions. It’s clearly setting a bad example for me. After all I went to a murder party last night.

“Speaking of, you haven't told me if you were there,” Mom points out as if she can read my mind.

“I went, but I didn't stay long.” Being put on the spot is making it difficult to come up with a story that doesn’t involve skinny-dipping and making out with a stranger for most of the night. Instead I stumble upon a different, but equally true, excuse. “Monroe and I aren't exactly BFFs.”

“I can't say I'm sorry to hear that. It's mercenary of me but I'm relieved that you weren't there. God only knows what happened last night.” She sighs so deeply that I almost believe she cares.

My clutch vibrates on