I had to show up, if only to support her.
“I know you’re stressing about who’s coming, but I promise I kept the Lockwood’s off the invite list,” Jodie whispers as we meet by the mobile juice bar set up in the library’s main hall, right next to a lovely Swedish buffet.
“It’s a shame, if you think about it. They’re big donors,” I grumble. “I’m sorry, Jodie.”
“Don’t be. Carter wrote one hell of a donation check to make up for it,” she giggles. “He’s the only Lockwood allowed.”
“Won’t the others be offended that they weren’t invited?” I wonder aloud, gazing out at the swelling crowd of academicsand teachers gathered to support Jodie. I recognize some of them while others are complete strangers, a few visiting from out of town. She’s got quite a lot of support for this initiative, and it makes me happy.
Jodie rolls her eyes. “Please. Bill Lockwood wouldn’t be caught dead in a place that doesn’t serve beluga caviar and French champagne. He’ll live.”
We chuckle as we mingle with the crowd. She introduces me to some of her colleagues and fellow teachers from the Blackthorn Falls elementary and middle schools. A few of them remember me, but Jodie gives them the kind of glare to warn against digging into the past for sake of conversation.
As we pass by a mirror, I catch a glimpse of myself. The pale pink dress I’m wearing falls loosely over my curvy figure, yet I still feel too big for it, too big for this town.
A sudden rush of emotions comes over me, led by insecurity. It’s been a while since I’ve felt like this.
A champagne glass pops into my field of vision.
“Thirsty?” Damon asks, holding it out for me to take.
“God, yes, thank you,” I reply and down the whole thing in one gulp.
He laughs. “Easy there, sport. The night is still young.”
“I was parched.”
“And yet you stood by that juice bar with Jodie for more than ten minutes,” he quips, his gaze following her as she moves through the crowd. “Look at her go. Schmoozing and rubbing the right elbows to get more support and funding. Little does she know we?—"
“Little does she know you what?” I cut him off.
“That I dropped a check for $200,000 into that donation box of hers,” Damon says.
I gasp. “You didn’t!”
“Wedid, on behalf of Vanguard Security.”
“Oh, Damon, you guys are amazing!” I throw my arms around him and hug him tightly, breathing him in and finding much-needed comfort in his warm embrace. “You do realize she’ll put up a plaque somewhere to honor you.”
“We’re counting on it,” he replies with a playful wink. “I can refer her to a good craftsman for that.”
I giggle as he snatches a second glass of champagne from the waiter doing his rounds through the main hall. “Thank you.”
“You look beautiful, by the way,” he adds. “Gorgeous, even.”
“You think?”
“I’d have put you into something tighter myself,” he replies, his hand resting on my hip. His touch alone is enough to send my pulse racing, but I keep my wits about me as I respond with a smile. “These curves of yours weren’t meant to be hidden.”
“I disagree. Actually, a tight dress on her figure would be a disaster.” Elizabeth pops out of nowhere, smirking and holding up a champagne glass of her own.
My stomach drops, and I feel queasy all of a sudden.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Damon growls. “I don’t remember your name being on the invite list. You can bet your ass I checked.”
Elizabeth looks gorgeous in a floral print dress; her slim legs are perfectly tanned, her hair flawless, pinned into an elegant bun on the top of her head. Diamonds glisten in her ears, and sleek, nude open-toe Louboutin pumps adorn her feet, showing off her perfect shiny red toenails. She’s ostentatious and stylish.
I feel like a bloated peach next to her.
