The Last Good Liar (Carolina Kisses #3) - Sylvie Stewart Page 0,2
and—as far as I can tell—all he’s done with his life so far is host several hundred ivy-league keggers and enjoy a spot on the board of his family’s corporation.
“Miranda, have you been to Bora Bora?” Mrs. Altman turns to me, her sleek bob and regal nose both straight as an arrow. “Your parents said you were busy and couldn’t join them this last time. Pity.”
“No, I had to work.” I don’t bother with a polite smile, even though I know I should. “And I go by Andie.”
This provokes a Meryl Streep caliber glare from Winona, like she’s been taken by complete surprise at my naturally abrasive manner. A lot of women have resting bitch face but can’t back it up. I’m not one of those women. Still, I can sometimes be bothered enough to be civil—but not after Winona cornered me in my room today and demanded I make nice with some rich couple’s son so she and my dad can secure some real estate development deal that will catapult them into the next echelon of wealth and narcissism. No thanks. If I want a date, it’s not going to be with a guy like Haines. Am I prejudging? Yeah. Do I care? Nope.
Mrs. Altman either doesn’t notice my lack of manners or doesn’t care. “That’s right. Your parents said you work in multicultural outreach. It’s so wonderful of you to give back.” She smiles at me before shifting a meaningful gaze to the future Senator Underwear.
It’s almost impossible not to laugh, but I somehow manage—see, I can be polite when I try. But Winona has gone too far this time in her attempt to elevate my career as a waitress at an Austrian restaurant. “I don’t know how multicultural serving veal to a bunch of local Julie Andrews fans is but—”
“Oh, Miranda,” Winona cuts me off with a smile more artificial than pleather. “She’s the only one of us with such a well-developed sense of humor. I don’t think I’ve told a joke in twenty years.” Her laugh makes my molars hurt.
“I think it’s time for pudding.” William brings his hands together in a clap, drawing attention away from his pandering wife. Good golly, I hope these people aren’t expecting Jell-O.
Haines sighs and sets his napkin on the table. I notice it’s clean and neatly folded, as if it hasn’t even been used. Who are these people? “I don’t know that I could eat another bite.” He sighs good-naturedly.
Winona seizes the opportunity and throws my ass under the bus. “Why don’t you and Miranda take a walk for some fresh air? She can show you the gardens.”
My frown bounces off her like highly engineered rubber. Gardens? It’s a yard, Winona. I’m sure the boy has seen grass before. She’s clearly not receiving my telepathic messages. And since when am I a tour guide? Let him expel his after-dinner farts on his own. I really don’t need to be there.
But one look around the table at all the expectant faces tells me it’s best to get it over with. The sooner I can ditch the underwear king, the sooner I can excuse myself to my room and get back to my project.
“Come on, Haines. I’ll show you the giant Venus flytraps.” I stand and toss my own wrinkled napkin on the table.
“See what I mean. So funny, that one,” I hear Winona say as I do my best not to strangle her with one of the velvet ties holding back the dining room drapes.
Haines stands as well and gestures for me to go ahead of him with a bright smile that kinda makes me want to strangle him too. “Lead the way.” He has a Superman cleft in his chin and carries himself like he forgot to take the hanger out before putting on his sportscoat tonight.
I could, of course, refuse and go up to my room now—or, better yet, leave the house altogether. There was really nothing making me attend this dinner in the first place, apart from the dread of the aftermath that always comes when Winona doesn’t get her way. Honestly, it wasn’t worth it before and it’s not worth it now. Threats, bartering, and manipulation are the cornerstones of Winona’s and my relationship, and it would be a shame to mess with tradition.
The minute I exit the wide glass double doors to the back veranda, I toe off my heels and leave them where they land before reaching into the bodice of my dress and