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As much as one grew up in a show house.

“Piper, that attitude isn’t flattering. Though, with your hair down like that, it’s obvious you aren’t trying. Ladies wear their hair back.”

“So you’ve often said.”

“James is a good man,” she continued, pointedly ignoring me. “And you know Thomas trusts him. You should really be trying harder.”

I tuned my mother out, smiling wide and rolling my eyes at Anna, the housekeeper.

When Mother married Thomas, Anna had already been working for him for around twenty years. I knew she must be in her sixties, but she looked at least a decade younger and, if you asked, she’d tell you she was thirty-five and a lot of months. She was also one of my favorite people growing up and now.

Mother led me back to the table, still talking about my poor life choices. I kept my smile in place as I pretended to listen. I’d heard it often enough that I had it memorized.

She’d start with telling me how my little cakes weren’t going to be enough to support me and that I’d struggle. Then she’d throw in the double punch of my house being too small and in a dangerous neighborhood. She’d end with her finishing move of a guilt trip so extreme I was surprised it didn’t require a passport.

I went to the head of the table and kissed my stepfather, Thomas, by the cheek before settling into my seat next to James. I nodded politely at the other ten people at dinner other than myself, James, Mother, and Thomas.

Some people had family dinners.

My mother had family dinner parties.

Through the first two courses, the conversation flowed around me but I hardly paid attention. It wasn’t because I was rude.

Okay, it wasn’tjustbecause I was rude.

I’d learned long ago that the quieter I was, the happier Mother was. I smiled and politely laughed when required, sipping frequently from my glass of wine.

While every place setting at Mother’s dinners had wine, my glass almost always went untouched. However, I had a feeling I’d need to numb myself a little to get through the night.

I was grateful I’d trusted my instincts.

About halfway through the third course, one of the women turned to me, asking, “Piper, what do you do?”

“She bakes dessert,” Mother answered. Her words said one thing but her disdainful tone definitely said another. She might as well have been telling them I cooked meth and sold it to school kids.

I’d long ago given up getting overly upset. It was easier to ignore her than to become the bad guy for getting emotional and embarrassing her. Instead, I’d zone out and think about new tattoos, cupcake and frosting combinations, or plan my schedule.

I was finding the wine was a pleasant distraction, too.

Tipping my head back so I didn’t miss a drop, I finished my third glass. It was refilled before I could even set it down. I glanced up at Alexander and gave him a small smile as he subtly squeezed my shoulder.

He’d been around for six years so he knew how this conversation would go. Alexander had been hired as chef when I was about fourteen, though he handled more than just cooking. He was in his fifties, a perfectionist, and, although not as coddling as Anna, he was still another of my favorite people.

When Alexander entered the room carrying desserts, I knew I was in the final stretch. I was to have a few bites but no more, which was hard because he made scrumptious desserts. As delicious as they were, it still wasn’t worth the lecture about my ample curves.

I might not be able to taste much, but at least I could taste freedom.

Alexander placed an individual Crème brûlée in front of me and I could’ve kissed him. It was heavenly but also very rich and sweet. He knew I’d only be able to eat a few bites even if I could have more. He winked when I grinned up at him before going back to serving the desserts.

I slowly drank the last of my wine, setting the glass far enough away that he’d know I was done. I savored my three bites, trying not to bounce as I awaited my opportunity to leave.

After the first couple left, I took my opening. Carefully standing, as three inch heels and four glasses of wine could be dangerous, I turned to James. “I’m rather tired.”

And rather bored outta my damn mind.

“Please, stay and enjoy,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m going to call for a ride.”

“I’m ready to go, Piper.” He stood and turned to thank my parents.