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Sumner looked up before I did; I didn’t even flinch at the unexpected voice calling my name directly behind me. Instead, I sawed off a piece of my avocado toast. “Good morning. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Ms. Nancy,” my father greeted luxuriously, donning a tone that he used with no one else but her. He had to butter her up, after all, if he wanted the property his hotel sat on to be left to him in the will. “It’s been far too long since our paths have crossed.”
“It has, hasn’t it?” Nancy’s tone held no affection as she picked up her water. She didn’t even spare him a look. “Took you long enough. I certainly wasn’t about to seek you out.”
“Margot has been keeping up appearances, hasn’t she? She’s my proxy.” My father said it like a joke.
No one laughed.
My father laid his hand on my shoulder, causing me to still at once. His hand was firm, and even through the material of the shoulder pad stitched into my suit jacket, it weighed heavy. “Margot, there’s someone who would like to speak with you.”
That “someone” was most likely him, and he was onlytrying to be polite about it in front of my companions. I’d been wondering when he’d approach me regarding what happened on Saturday. “Can’t I finish my meal first?”
My father hesitated, and if I looked, I’d probably have found him looking from Sumner to Nancy. He knew he had to be tactful. “This is a guest we cannot keep waiting.”
I set my silverware down and turned. My father stood as an imposing figure behind me, taking up my view with the broad frame of his own shoulders. His expression was flat and clear, though it was one he normally donned around me. I would’ve been far more uncomfortable if I could’ve been able to tell what he was feeling—though there was something in his eyes that still put me on edge.
“Keep Nancy company,” I told Sumner as I pushed my chair back. He wasn’t looking at me, though, but at my father. “Nancy, don’t grill him for information.”
“Hurry back, now,” Nancy said, finally regarding my father. Her features always held a bit of a frown, but it seemed more prominent now. “Your tea will get cold.”
My father was silent as he escorted me from the room, which didn’t bode well. I wondered if he’d take me all the way back to his office in the hotel or if we could talk this out in one of the meeting rooms. I at least had more time to think of what to say than I’d had with my mother, giving me more time to figure out what could appease him.
But as we stepped into the lobby of the country club, I realized there reallywassomeone waiting to speak with me, and it was Vivienne Astor.
Today, instead of a suit, she wore a flowy sundress and alightweight cardigan, one that fit well with the higher temperatures of the day. Her brown hair was back out of her face up by a pair of sunglasses, and she had a pale yellow Claire-Haute purse nestled at the crook of her elbow. She looked different from the authoritative, sure women I’d seen at Mimosa Morning in her Malstoni suit, but her presence wasn’t any less prominent. It made me wonder, briefly, what I’d look like in a sundress.
Whereas I stiffened upon seeing her, her features softened at the sight of me, almost in a welcoming expression. “Margot,” she greeted as I came close. “Lovely to see you.”
Lovely. It wasn’t the word I expected her to use, but then again, she must’ve still thought it was Yvette who caused the commotion on Saturday. My father, discreetly laying his hand on my back, shuffled me forward. “Mrs. Astor, hi,” I greeted. When she stuck her hand out, I pressed mine into it.
She hadn’t been shaking my hand, though, but captured and held it. Her fingers held a pleasant warmth. “You’re a difficult lady to track down.”
“I didn’t realize you were still in Addison,” I said honestly. My parents hadn’t said anything at all about her extended stay. “I—I thought you were only here for that day.”
“I had a few more things to take care of,” she replied, and then lowered her voice. “But I wanted to see you before I left, given what happened Saturday.”
I was all too aware of my father’s presence, his hand remaining on my back like a warning. “S-Saturday?”
“You thought the littletumblewas subtle?” A cornerof her lips lifted, and she looked into the mirror to inspect her expression. “Then again, perhaps it was. No one else noticed.”
Everyone else was already three mimosas deep, I thought, but took a step closer. “I’ll pay for it. I know I can’t replace it, but I’ll pay for the damage.” My eagerness wasn’t just due to the fact that my father hadn’t moved his hand, nor was it because I wanted to be on her good side. The guilt over damaging the garment was enough to scar me.
“It was a one-of-a-kind,” she said, still holding my hand. “And still is. A little stain doesn’t change that.”
I frowned at her, wondering if her nonchalance was coming just before she snapped at me. “But… but it’s ruined.”
“Besides, it’s just orange juice and vodka. I could probably remove the stain myself at home. Why does a spill ruin a garment? Why does a stitch by a different tailor make it less valuable?” Vivienne pursed her lips a little. “I see you’re a woman of great taste, with that Gilfman you’re wearing now, but who taught you these things? That if something isn’t perfect, it deserves to be thrown out?”
I felt a little ashamed under the directness of her stare, at the way she phrased the question. Ashamed of myself for unconsciously thinking that way, ashamed that it was something that someone had to point out to me—someone as elegant as her.
Vivienne folded her hands in front of her and gave me a passive expression. “Tell me why you spilled, Margot, and I’ll consider what I want inrepayment.”
I wished she could’ve been like any of the other club members, so suffocating with a stick up her ass and a chip on her shoulder, so I could lie to her. Though the excuse was childish, there wasn’t a different one I could give. “She asked you a question, Margot,” my father told me, as if I was a child and needed prompting.
Vivienne looked at him, but said nothing.
“I didn’t want the others to see what Aaron looked like before I did.” I winced after I confessed it.