Page 27 of The Heiress
Elisha pressed her lips together, her smile uncertain, making me curious.
“You drink tea?” I asked, peering in at the insipid milky drink. Mom was the only person I knew who drank tea. And it didn’t escape me that I’d spoken to Elisha spontaneously, without rehearsing the question in my head first.
“I have tried it before,” Elisha said, “but I’m not sure if it’s this one.” She clasped the handle of the fine china cup which was reserved for tea. Mom had a thing about cups and mugs and their roles—some were for tea, some for coffee, some for hot chocolate, and I’d be a fool if I got it wrong.
Elisha’s attempt at a sip resulted in a noisy slurp, which she apologized for with a cute grimace and a shrug of her shoulders.
“It’s an acquired taste if you’re not used to it,” Mom said kindly. “I can make you a coffee if you’d like.”
“No, no, no, it’s fine,” Elisha said with a smile. “It’s just a bit hot.”
As if she’d found her soul-mate tea drinker, Mom went back to assembling food on the plate, and Elisha leaned toward me, gripping the cup between both hands and whispered, “I thought she meant iced tea.”
I grinned at her confession, my heart fluttering because...well, because Elisha had said something funny, she hadn’t tried to bite my head off, and she didn’t want to disappoint Mom. But I still didn’t understand why she was here in our house for Thanksgiving weekend.
Mom returned with a coffee for me and a platter of fruits, cheese, chips and nuts. She brought a stool over to sit opposite us. I really hoped that meant she was going to eat something.
“So, do you have any classes together?” Mom asked, clutching her own cup of tea. I immediately knew that she’d hold onto it the whole time, take frequent sips and therefore wouldn’t eat anything.
Elisha and I looked at each other and said in unison, “Photography.”
“Is that Mr. Norman’s class?” Mom asked. I nodded. “And Taylor’s in that class too?”
“Yep,” I said. “And Max.”
“Elisha, where are you from?” It was one good thing about mothers, they had no qualms about garnering information—and they usually got away with it. When Taylor came over to play tennis, Mom fired every question under the sun. And who knows what she asked Mr. Frank when he was here. Probably everything from the year he graduated high school to his favorite football team.
Elisha lowered her cup and cleared her throat, “Um, Chicago.”
“Oh.” Mom’s mouth rounded in surprise.
“But my parents are abroad,” Elisha added quickly, returning the tea to her lips.
“So that’s why you were at La Maison?”
“I didn’t want to be a nuisance to anyone,” she murmured from behind the cup.
“Wait. What?” I interjected. “You were staying at La Maison?” A student staying in the hotel over the holiday weekend was unheard of. Foreign exchange students were always hosted by school families if they didn’t go home. Back in sophomore year, Kei, a Japanese tennis player who studied at Covington Prep for a semester, stayed with us on holiday weekends. It had been quite cool having him around, so it was sad when he went home.
Elisha’s lips twitched and she drank more tea, though I suspected she was using the cup to hide behind.
Sensing Elisha’s embarrassment, Mom moved on. “Well, it’s lovely to have you here, Elisha. Phoe and I want you to feel at home. Have you done much exploring around River Valley?”
“I’ve been to the mall,” Elisha said, her cheeks flushing a bright shade of pink as she lowered her cup. Didn’t seem like the likely reaction from someone with ice flowing through their veins.
“Have you been to Victoria Lake? It’s a nice picnic spot,” Mom said.
“Uh, not yet,” Elisha mumbled.
“Maybe we can—” Mom’s phone chimed from across the room and she never finished her sentence, excusing herself and going through to the dining room. Elisha and I both picked up our drinks at the same time, but my mind was churning with this newfound information. That Elisha had been staying at La Maison because she’d had nowhere to go for the holidays, and somehow Mom had ended up bringing her home.
Having drained my espresso, I was well aware the silence needed to be filled. “Uh, where are your parents?” I asked.
“London,” she clipped, a tone that implied it was none of my business. Oh, how quickly she’d reverted to her Ice Queen status when Mom left the room. And for a moment I thought we were having a normal, pleasant conversation.
Mom came back in, all smiles. “How are we doing here?”
I took the opportunity to make my exit, gingerly sliding off the high stool. “I’ll just get the rest of my stuff from my car,” I said to Mom. I could see that enduring Elisha’s company for the next few days was going to be hard work.
