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“A waspline.”
“With capital letters,” she giggled. “AWASPline. Get it?”
“I do,” I confirmed, putting my free hand onher waist as Catherine approached with a fake smile.
“Enjoying the party, Charlotte?” Catherineasked.
Charlotte nodded. “It’s lovely. Although,there was a wasp bothering us a moment ago.”
I choked on my drink slightly.
Catherine didn’t understand the joke. Thankgod. She narrowed her eyes and looked up at the top of the topiarybehind us. “That won’t do. Mother had pest control out here onThursday. Do you think there’s a nest?”
“Oh, I think there’s a full-on infestationhere somewhere,” Charlotte answered with a totally straightface.
“Well, that aside,” Catherine went on, “youlook very pretty.”
“Thanks,” Charlotte answered, smoothing downthe front of her skirt. She didn’t know, of course, that “pretty”from my sister was a withering insult. It meant “simple.” Girlish.Unsophisticated.
If Charlotte was going to survive in myworld, she would have to become bilingual. She would have to learnto speak rich asshole.”
“Florals to a garden party,” Catherinecontinued. “Most people would think that was too obvious achoice.”
Judging from Charlotte’s subtle shift inexpression, she was picking up some of the dialect.
“I love your shoes,” she said, pointing tothe lavender pumps my sister wore. “A lot of women would be worriedabout their ankles looking stocky in such a thick heel, but you’repulling it off. Style icon. Like Daisy Duck.”
I could practically hear my sister’s teethgrinding.
With theatrical overemphasis, I scanned thecourtyard and directed my gaze toward the terrace. “I haven’t seenJackson. Did his flight get in safely?”
It was a low blow, and one I regretted themoment I saw the hurt flash across my sister’s face. She pursed herlips slightly. “No. He was called back to the city. An importantdeal fell through, and he needs to patch up the shoddy work ofothers. He’ll be here for the birthday party tonight.”
“Shame. I was looking forward to hearingabout his work trip to… Was it Thailand?” I blinked innocently ather.
With a venomous “Enjoy the party,” Catherineturned and stalked away from us.
“Wait, you mean…” Charlotte said, ascandalized expression dawning over her face.
“Far be it from me to harshly judge sextourism, but at least my resorts aren’t exploiting minors.” Itwasn’t exactly the kind of topic to share at one’s mother’sbirthday luncheon, so I changed the subject. “Did you know that theestate has a hedge maze?”
Charlotte’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” I took herhand and led her down the short steps to the next level of theterraced gardens. We made a right at the enormous copy ofVersailles’ Bassin d’Apollon and veered into a small copse ofimmaculately pruned shrubs. Just ahead was the entrance to themaze.
“It’s a little creepy, isn’t it?” Charlottewhispered. “I’ve never been in a real maze before.”
“Oh, I’ll protect you,” I promised. “TheMinotaur moved out years ago, and I still have the string threadedthrough so we can find our way.”
“Ha ha.” she said with a roll of her eyes.Sucking down the rest of her drink through its straw, she set theglass neatly on the ground beside one of the hedge walls. “Don’tgive me hints. Let me see if I can find my way through.”
“No hints,” I promised. “Unless we’rehopelessly lost and we’re going to miss the rest of the party.”
“I wouldn’t mind missing the rest of theparty,” she said, and waited for me to finish my drink and abandonmy glass before heading inside.
“I’ve heard you can solve any maze by goingleft,” she said confidently, striding off in the wrongdirection.
“I’ve heard that too.” I let her pull mealong as we navigated the first two turns, then backtracked out ofthe dead end.