Page 56 of Deadly Little Scandals

That was unusually altruistic of her. “What did Victoria and her father want?” I asked.

“To say hello,” Campbell replied. “Supposedly.” She didn’t dwell on that—or allow me to. “Get any texts this morning?”

“No,” I said. “But Lily did.” Maybe that meant I’d been cut. As fond as I was of patriarchy smashing, that was an outcome I could live with.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my challenge is?” Campbell prompted.

I obliged.

“That’s for me to know,” came the reply, “and you to provide an alibi for me in regards to later.”

“That almost makes me nostalgic,” I said.

“Must be in the air,” Campbell replied. “Mama informed me this morning that she’s been feeling nostalgic, too.”

I scanned the sprawling lawn and caught sight of Charlotte Ames, on the far side of the basketball and tennis courts—and right next to Aunt Olivia.

She’s probably enjoying the fact that someone else is the scandal du jour.No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than I saw my mother standing underneath a large blue tent, all of three feet away from Greer Waters.

Depending on where my mom fell on the scale from hungover toreallyhungover, this had the potential to get ugly.

“I have to go,” I told Campbell.

She caught my arm as I walked past. “If anyone asks tonight after the fireworks, I was with you all morning and afternoon.” She smiled. “And, Sawyer? You’ll know my challenge when you see it.”

’d made it nine-tenths of the way to the catastrophe-in-waiting that was my mom and Greer when I bumped into Sadie-Grace.

“This heat, I swear,” Greer was complaining to a group of women nearby. “Never have an August baby.”

As tempting as it was to call out Greer’s performance for exactly what it was, years of being my mom’s wingman, confidante, backup, and babysitter told me that her doing the same thing—in public—had the potential to blow up in all of our

faces.

“Excuse me,” I told Sadie-Grace. I went to move past her, but she sidestepped and blocked me.

“No.”

I tried to make sense of that. “What?”

“I said no,” Sadie-Grace said apologetically. “I have to say no. Not just to you. To everything. I have to say no to everything anyone asks from me, all day.Because.”

She put so much emphasis on that last word that I finally connected the dots. “Because that’s your White Glove challenge?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that.” Sadie-Grace was serious as a funeral. “But maybe, if you want me to get out of your way, you should ask menotto step aside?”

“Whatever you do, don’t step aside.”

Once she’d cleared the way, I made my way to where Greer had been standing a moment before. Neither she nor my mother was immediately visible. Eventually, I spotted them just outside the tent, back and away from the foot traffic.

“I don’t hate you, Greer.” I was wired to hear my mom’s voice above others, to be able to pick it out of a crowd. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have Sawyer. So rest assured, I’m not going to burst your little bubble with respect to your current deception.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ellie.” Before my mom could respond, Greer caught sight of me and nodded in my direction.

My mom turned. She saw me, then let her gaze travel farther into the tent, to Sadie-Grace. “All I’m saying,friend, is that maybe you’re so set on making life go your way that you’re missing out on the ways that it already has.”

I’d wondered how hungover my mom was. The answer was apparentlyphilosophically hungover, which generally hovered around the midpoint of the scale.

Without responding to my mom’s advice, Greer went to make her exit. I watched her go.Do you know that your husband lost a child when he lost his first wife?I thought.Would it make any kind of difference to you if you did?