Page 82 of The Family Guest

She squirmed in her seat. “Um…yes.”

“What’s your favorite floor?”

“Papa and I like to stay in the penthouse whenever he’s in town.”

Both my mom and Trevor shot her a perplexed look. I wished my grandma could have heard that one. Every Brit in the world knew that Harrods was London’s famous department store, not some five-star hotel. Before I could clue her in, my half-deaf grandpa jumped into the conversation.

“So, Tanya. My son Matthew told me you applied to Stanford early decision.” He avoided eye contact with me, and I wasn’t sure if my father had told him about the plagiarism scandal. Chances were he hadn’t, in order to spare him the anger and humiliation on account of his heart condition. He had suffered a mild heart attack last year and had to have bypass surgery.

Tanya grinned. “Yes, I did.”

“Have you heard back?”

“Yes. They’re still waiting for my transcript from my school in England.”

My dad expressed confidence she would get in while Will and I exchanged amused looks. England, my arse. This girl was as bogus as they came.

And today we were going to prove it at last.

The conversation between my father and his moved on to sports. Whether Stanford’s football team would defeat longtime rival Berkeley’s. At the mention of Berkeley, I felt a spark of excitement. Tomorrow, I was visiting my bestie, Jordan. She was going to show me around the campus, and I might even spend the night.

“Excuse me,” said my brother, his voice cutting into my thoughts. “I have to use the bathroom.” He stood up, his twinkling eyes locking with mine. The thrill of excitement tingled on my skin as I watched him skirt off.

Seated next to my mother, Tanya took a few sips of her cider, back to looking bored. She even yawned before her cell phone rang. The ringtone was distinct, Britney Spears’s “Oops!…I Did It Again.”

“Oh! That must be my boyfriend, Lance.” With a smug smile, she directed the words at me. “Excuse me. I’ll be back in a little bit.” She sprang off the couch and dashed out of the room. All our bags were stored in one of my grandma’s spare bedrooms, as she hated things like backpacks and coats strewn on the floor or over chairs. And she had a no-tolerance policy about cell phone use at family gatherings.

Perfection. Everything was going to plan.

Small talk continued. My mother asked Cecilia what she thought about a man named Jason Nussbaum.

My aunt narrowed her eyes. With her graying ash-brown hair loose, she was attractive, but with it tied back in a tight knot in a courtroom, I bet she was intimidating. A force to be reckoned with. “He’s a snake…takes his clients’ husbands to the cleaners. Why are you asking?”

“Just asking for a friend,” said my mother. Then, she smiled.

I made a mental note: Google his name. Jason Nussbaum.

Tanya returned, looking a little miffed with a very smug Will trailing behind her. Both went back to their seats. I turned to Tanya.

“How’s Lancey?” I needled. “Did you tell him I say hi?”

She scoffed at me. “That wasn’t him. It was a stupid spam call.”

“Oh well.” Shrugging, I plucked a stuffed mushroom from the canapé tray and stuffed it in my mouth.

More small talk ensued until a shriek startled us.

Grandma! She came running into the living room, still wearing an apron and looking completely frazzled.

“Mother, what’s wrong?” asked my dad.

“My pearls! They’re gone! Someone stole them!”

“What!?” interjected my mom.

“They’re missing from my dresser. Plain and simple.”

“Marg—I mean, Mrs. Merritt—maybe one of the help stole them?” offered Tanya.