supposed to answer that? And here, with every busybody in town leaning in, waiting for her to deny the rumors that she had been the one to land St. Helena’s most notorious playboy?
The plan was to tell their grandmas together, over Friday-night dinner. Not here, with Lexi alone and a roomful of women who either wanted to see them married with babies or on their way to an explosive breakup.
“Yes. Marco and I are”—she swallowed, hard—“dating.” Did her voice just go up three octaves?
“You’re kidding,” Isabel Stark said, her eyes wide in disbelief. “I mean, no offense, but I thought that was just a rumor you made up to get out of dating all those losers your grandma set you up with.”
“They’re not losers.” Lexi felt compelled to defend her tribe of lost boys, and more importantly, her grandmother’s efforts. “And yes, Marc and I are together. Exclusively.”
Whispers rang out, exactly what she was afraid of.
“I overheard Penny at the Paws and Claws say she saw Marc leaving her house…in the morning,” someone said, though Lexi couldn’t see who. They were all too busy huddling and gossiping about her.
“I heard that she already slept with him,” someone else said.
“So?” Lexi snapped, daring them to say one more word. “Now if we’re done, I’m here to cook.” She smoothed out her crisp white tablecloth. “So if you have any more questions, they’ll have to wait for later, or you could just go to Facebook and read Marc’s post.”
Reaching under her table, Lexi pulled out the box of decor and flatware that her boyfriend had carried over earlier and dressed the table. She was just finishing up with the napkins when ChiChi opened the chafing dish, which held her pork chops, and gasped.
“Oh dear—”
“You followed the recipes,” Lucinda whispered. She resembled a penguin in her vintage black-and-white pantsuit with matching wing tip shoes. Mr. Puffins was striking in a black fedora and tie. But neither of them was giving Lexi the job-well-done expression she had expected. In fact, they all looked horrified.
“What do you mean, ‘Oh dear?’” she whispered. “You told me that whoever made the best Great-Grandma DeLuca baked chop would win. I made the best Great-Grandma DeLuca baked chop.”
“We may have overstated our decision-making power with the committee,” Pricilla admitted.
Lexi’s heart stopped, but her hands kept moving. Pork chop is to be placed two inches out from the center of the plate and at forty-five-degree angle to the wild rice. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that the Daughters of the Prohibition seem to be in the middle of a revolution,” Pricilla began, glaring at the table of junior leaguers, all clamoring over Natasha’s table, her new Jimmy Choos, her food. “It seems that the junior league sees the Showdown as a chance to modernize, update things a little.”
“Does Natasha get a vote?” Lexi asked, forcing herself to keep plating.
“Natasha had to recuse herself since she’s interviewing for the job,” ChiChi said. “And someone of general-member status can’t replace a board member on a night when a vote is cast.”
“Since Alison Sheehan is big as a vat and on bed rest and Jennifer Logan has bronchitis, they had no one qualified to stand in. So they only have four votes tonight,” Pricilla said proudly.
“And the senior league shares your views?” A quick glance toward the other ladies had Lexi scooting closer and lowering her voice. “Then we have the numbers. You three, Mrs. Lambert, and Mrs. Moberly.”
Lexi felt herself relax. Even if all of the Prada mommies chose Natasha, Lexi could still win.
“That’s the thing, dear,” Pricilla said, and she wasn’t smiling. “Mrs. Moberly can’t vote. She’s not even a DOP member.”
“Then who’s the fifth vote?”
All three grannies looked at the door and—
Oh God, no. This could not be happening. Her luck with this family could not be this bad.
“Ladies, sorry I’m late. I was just Skyping with my new daughter-in-law,” Mrs. Balldinger sang as she waltzed into the all-in-one saloon and ladies’ club, regal, refined, and ready to ruin Lexi’s life.
“I had to hear all about the honeymoon. To think that after all this time my Jeffery finally found true love.” Her ex-mother-in-law sauntered past all the tables, poked at Lexi’s flatware, and smiled. “Let the tasting begin?”
“I messed up,” Lexi said, fiddling with the hem of her pants as she sat on the bottom step of town hall and stared at the sidewalk. “I chickened out and ruined everything.”
“You didn’t ruin everything,” Marc said, wishing he could do something to help her.