Page 96 of Best Kept Vows

“So, I started from scratch. I went back to school. I got an internship. And I fought for the right to rediscover myself. It hasn’t been easy, and I won’t pretend that I don’t sometimes feel like I’m faking it…well, that’s a lie; most of the time, I feel like I’m a second away from being fired.”

Someone said, “I hear you, sister,” which was followed by a spattering of applause.

“But fear is—as the Bene Gesserit, another group of badass women say—the mind-killer.”

This elicited chuckles and chants ofDune.

“When I told my son, Tristan, that I was thinking of pursuing an MBA, he was all in. I expressed concern about being forty-four by the time I finished. His answer was simple: I was going to be forty-four regardless, so I might as well spend those years working toward a career.”

I paused and looked around the room. Ada was recording, giving me appreciative nods.

“So, I’ll share with you what I learned. It’s never too late.You are never too old. And choosing yourself is never the wrong decision. Thank you.”

Betsy rose from her chair after the applause died and looked around the room. “Well, let’s start with your questions. Maggie has a microphone if you need it.”

The Q&A was fun!

This group of women was irreverent and raucous, a lot like the women I worked with.

Still flushed from the rush of speaking, fielding questions, and basking in the warmth of the women around me, I made my way through the marbled hallways of The Mansion toward the restroom—only to be ambushed.

There was no other way of describing it. Here I was in desperate need to pee, and my path was blocked by Dolly and Coco, two heavily perfumed sentinels of the Old Savannah Order, their eyes brimming with disdain.

I raised a hand before they could say a word. “Not right now.”

Then, in a move that was truly Olympic-worthy, I sidestepped them and power-walked to the restroom.

They followed me—I kid you not!—into the freaking ladies’ room of The Mansion.

I went into one of the stalls and did my business, wondering if they were outside, listening.

Talk about creepy!

When I came out into the luxe, gold-accented restroom, Dolly and Coco were waiting like a couple of designer-clad vultures. And judging by the expression on Dolly’s face, shewas about to pass out from the sheer effort of watching me succeed.

Now, for context, The Mansion’s ladies’ room was not justanyol’ restroom. It was a palatial powder room—a sanctuary of wealth where women reapplied their lipstick under chandeliers, freshened up with scented hand towels, and engaged in hushed power plays between marble vanities.

A small seating area with plush velvet chairs occupied one side of the room because, apparently, some women needed a rest after the strenuous act of existing in high society.

I barely made it to the sink when Coco struck first, arms folded, her perfectly arched brow tilting in disdain.

“Social climbing already, Lia?”

I stared at her, my fingers hovering over the soap dispenser—because…what?

Dolly, all clipped Southern disapproval, shook her head with theatrical disappointment. “You think cozying up to the Rhodes will get you somewhere?”

I took a deep breath because it had been a really good day up until this moment, and I was not about to let them ruin it.

But before I could tell them both to get a damn hobby, another voice cut in. “Mama.”

Oh yay! Now Ada was here.

I washed my hands before turning to see my daughter—small in stature, but standing tall, all fire and steel, her chin lifted, her presence commanding enough to rival the chandelieroverhead. She looked between Dolly and Coco, her gaze cool and calculating.

“Grandma, Auntie Coco.”

They did the kiss-kiss-in-the-air nonsense.

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