Page 9 of Stick to the Deal (Friendship Springs Romance #3)

Ladies Who Lunch

A waiter sets down another plate of treats fit for a doll. Why is everything so damn tiny? Did tea portions get smaller? Or have I been living in America too long?

“Vivienne, it must be nice to have your granddaughter back home. It was so gracious of you to support her adventuring.”

Well, the people are just as small as I remember.

I quickly lift my teacup to my lips to stop the caustic words from flowing out. The porcelain is smooth against my skin, the liquid warmth floods my mouth with bitterness. A welcome change from the saccharine manners of the well-to-do around me.

The crisp white linens, gold gilded mirrors, and polished silver trays scream elegance.

Even the desserts feature gold leaf to remind you of the surrounding opulence.

It is the Ritz, after all. Dozens of equally decadent women scatter about the room wearing Chanel, Burberry, or McQueen.

All of them congratulating themselves for raising money for the hospital.

All of them completely ignoring the fact they spent a hundred times more than they raised.

“Nicolette is an accomplished photographer, Birdie. She recently completed a major piece for Time Magazine. Now she’s back to take a more active role in the family.

” Grandmother Dearest is in her element.

Regal in a belted powder blue ensemble with matching hat and purse.

She’s even wearing ridiculous tan loafers with a slight heel.

Even at eighty, Grandmama refuses to defy fashion for comfort.

She’s discreetly leaning on her umbrella for support, so maybe she’s not immune to pinchy shoes after all.

Serves her right.

For the hundredth time, I tense to keep myself from fidgeting.

The tulle petticoat under this ghastly pea green frock is digging into my thighs and the Peter Pan collar is choking me.

If my friends could see me now, they’d die laughing.

The dress has a fucking A-line skirt! I can’t wait to strip out of this monstrosity.

“Nicolette, you haven’t looked at the auction items yet. Aren’t those some of your old schoolmates over there? I’m sure you want to catch up with the younger ladies, anyway.”

So much for my peace. I’ve survived the last hour with minimal socializing as Grandmama’s companions would rather talk about me than to me.

Pushing down a sigh, I delicately lower the petit four back on my plate and blot my crumb-less lips.

Polite smile bolted back in place, I excuse myself to weave between the tables to the edge of the room.

A small group of women my age gather at the far end of the table. I recognize two from my boarding school days, but the other is a stranger. Goes to show how long I’ve avoided this glittering world.

Taking my time, I study each offering. Ok, I’m stalling in the hopes the girls flit back to their seats before I reach them.

The first few aren’t too bad, spa packages at the Ritz, a meal at the Savoy.

The further I wander, the more outlandish the prizes become.

A personal reading by a famous children’s author.

A signed jersey from the hottest footballer.

“Nicolette, I heard you were back. You look well. How long has it been?” The group has opened towards me.

Dammit.

“Lovely to see you, Aubrey. Eloise. Oh, must be a decade, at least.” I lift my lips in a long practiced, friendly but reserved line. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ve been introduced. Nicolette Kato-Atherton.” I extend my hand to the stranger in a bright pink flowered dress.

“Serena Wentworth.” Her palm is limp in mine in an awkward shake. Does she expect me to kiss her hand? Honey blond hair falls to her elbows in perfect waves. Pink-painted lips smile widely, but her blue eyes hold ice .

As I pull back, Eloise catches my eye. “Are you back to stay? John and I absolutely must have you over for dinner.” A large diamond twinkles on her hand as she rests it on her swollen belly.

I swallow a twinge of homesickness. Brianna is in her third trimester, herself. If I miss the birth of my goddaughter, I’m going to shank someone. “Back more regularly, anyway. Business keeps me busy traveling.”

“Business? You work?” Afternoon Tea Barbie steps back as if working is contagious.

Sarcastic barbs bubble up my throat, threatening to cut Miss Wentworth to bits.

“Oh, Nicolette is a big-time photographer.” Turning to me, Aubrey continues, “I follow you on Instagram. It must be amazing wandering all over the world and taking pictures. Even in school, you always had the most dazzling life.”

Her tone seems sincere, but a cold sweat drips down my neck all the same.

I may have been infamous at boarding school—missing curfew, photographed with French bad boys—but nothing about my life was dazzling.

It was rather lonely. The truth is, I wasn’t close with any of the girls.

Some, like Aubrey and Eloise, were friendly in passing, providing pleasant but superficial relationships.

Most, though, were cruel. Refused to accept a sad girl who was too different.

Too American. Too weird. Too scandalous.

“You can’t be traveling all the time. Where have you been hiding for your home base?” Eloise’s eyes are bright, her smile genuine.

“The states, mostly. New York and Florida.”

The prissy blond opens her mouth, but I’m saved by the committee chair calling for everyone to take their seats for the auction winners to be called.

Serena glides off to a table with two middle-aged women seated with heads angled close, watching her approach.

Aubrey and Eloise say their goodbyes with air kisses and promises of plans soon.

I glance down at the last item, a one-week stay in a private Swedish villa. The current high bid is none other than Miss Serena Wentworth for a thousand pounds. I quickly scrawl my name and double her price.

Am I that petty?

Fuck, yeah, I am.

Gliding back to my seat, the first genuine smile of the day stretch my cheeks. Not even Grandmama’s calculating gaze as they call the winners can dim it.