Page 23 of The Heiress
“Five hours by car, six and a half by bus,” Beth said with a roll of her eyes. “I actually have to leave in third period. And then I have to change bus in Hampton Falls.”
I nodded with a smile and excused myself, afraid that there would be more questions requiring more lies.
After dinner I did a few extra laps around the track to clear my head and compose myself before I approached Mrs. Pritchard. Hopefully I would get her at a busy time and she wouldn’t be able to ask too much.
I mentioned pumpkin pies as my opening line. “Weren’t the pies delicious?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Pritchard said, “and I guess we’ll be eating lot more this weekend!”
“Absolutely,” I agreed cheerfully, and then more tentatively, “Uh, did you hear from my father?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Pritchard said, her tight smile sympathetic. Mrs. Pritchard was apparently one of only a handful of people who knew my true identity, that my parents’ wealth put them on lists. In order to blend in, they hadn’t wanted me saddled with the rich girl tag, though at Covington Prep money wasn’t generally an issue. “I’m sorry that they’ve had to take a sudden trip abroad, but we’re happy to put you in a homestay. Of course Sasha can’t go home to Brazil, so she’s going to stay with the Feldon family. You may know Amy? She’s a freshman.”
I shook my head and dove straight in. “I don’t need a homestay anymore. Didn’t Dad tell you?”
Mrs. Pritchard frowned, her phone pinged and Lacey, a sophomore, knocked on the office door. Mrs. Pritchard beckoned her in and Lacey handed her a piece of paper, smiling as she scuttled back out.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Pritchard said, perusing the form. I glanced down at it too, reading Lacey’s travel information.
“Anyway, didn’t Dad send you an email that I have someone to stay with? I don’t need a homestay for the weekend anymore.”
Mrs. Pritchard’s eyebrows rose—in surprise or disbelief, I wasn’t sure.
“Yes,” I rushed to say, “I’m staying with my cousins—”
Mrs. Pritchard’s phone rang with a chiming ring tone. Her eyes diverted to the screen with an urgent look that she needed to answer the call. “Okay. Fill in the details of your travel arrangements and drop it back to me,” she said, searching through a filing tray and handing me a piece of paper, and in a hushed voice she said, “Thank you, I have to take this.”
I nodded vigorously. “Yes. Sure. Thank you.” I hurried out, thankful that it was going to be much easier than I thought. I would find out when most of the other girls were leaving, book a taxi and hopefully depart en masse.
––––––––
The knock on the doormade me jump. I was lounging on the comfortable bed, up to season three of the series I was watching. Admittedly, I was bored but room service had delivered a sumptuous Thanksgiving meal and taken the tray away. I wondered if there was a snack or hot drink coming my way, part of the package.
In my bare feet, I opened the door just as far as the latched chain allowed. I gasped at the sight of Mrs. Pritchard standing on the other side.
My initial thought was that something bad had happened to my family—a plane crash, a sinking ship, a car accident—it was amazing how many scenarios could race through your head in an instant. All dispelled by the cry of my name on Mrs. Pritchard’s lips.
“Elisha Sakkari-Millar!” she said in both anguish and relief, but mostly anguish.
As I unfastened the chain and opened the door fully, I had a feeling my ruse was over, that I’d been caught out.
“May I come in?” Mrs. Pritchard asked. She was dressed in a pretty patterned dress and low heels, a far cry from the conservative skirt and blouse she wore as the Dorm Head. I had an immediate sense that I’d interrupted her family Thanksgiving, and for that I felt bad.
“I’ve had a very worrying phone call from your father saying that he’d contacted Bianca Holbrun’s family, only to discover that they knew nothing about you staying with them. And I had to inform him that you were staying with your cousins for the weekend, Jasmine and Jackson Millar.” Mrs. Pritchard arched a single eyebrow, something I’d never noticed she could do. It was a skill I didn’t possess.
I didn’t say anything, knowing I wasn’t going to be able to defend myself, though I was curious as to how she’d tracked me down. I had turned off my phone and resisted the urge to look at it, having told Dad that I might be too busy.
“Your father noticed activity on your credit card account,” Mrs. Pritchard answered my unspoken question sternly, but her tone immediately softened. “Elisha! What on earth were you thinking? You scared your father. He was extremely worried.”
I hung my head, engulfed in shame. It hadn’t been my goal to upset my father, rather to selfishly escape the abhorred situation of having to stay with a homestay family—which now seemed juvenile. So, okay, maybe I had wanted to defy my father just a tiny bit and flirt with a little rebellion in trying to assert my independence which my parents seemed desperate for me to have.
“Elisha,” Mrs. Pritchard said gently, “we can’t have you staying on your own in a hotel room. That’s not the Covington Prep way.”
I sniffed back tears, because I could anticipate what was about to happen. I was going to end up with a random family, the only consolation that it would only be for three nights.
Mrs. Pritchard put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Now I want you to pack up your bag, and I’ll be back shortly. If I can’t find a suitable family at such short notice, you’ll come home with me. And I will let your father know you’re safe. Do you understand?”
I nodded, reality hitting me. I’d been a fool to think I could have gotten away with it, that my father wouldn’t have found out. What was I thinking! Stephan Millar hadn’t built an empire by being stupid. And now, I’d disrupted Mrs. Pritchard’s day, and I didn’t know what would be worse, going home with her or a strange family.
