Page 69 of Just a Plot Twist
The last social function we went to, her ankle ended up resting in my lap like it was home as I soothed her soft skin—her smooth flesh. “Have your grandparents recovered from the big shindig?”
Her brief smile tells me she knows I’m avoiding that other word for it.
“They’re in Majorca.”
“Majorca?”
“Yeah. Something about a second honeymoon. Their sixtieth is the milestone that will never die, I swear.” She smiles. “They’re in love with each other, but they argue a lot, too. Imagine my grandma’s sour face when grandpa tries to talk her into a souvenir of a beer boot from the island.”
“A beer boot? That’s not her style.”
“It’s the exact opposite of her style.”
“So, what did she say about the ruckus we caused the other night?”
“She said what happened was awful. As in ‘awfully embarrassing.’ She kept
reiterating how mortified and embarrassed she would have been if it’d been her. It’s like, ‘I get it, Grandma. I’m sufficiently ashamed.’”
I wince. “None of that was your fault.”
“I told them as much. I said it hurt that they were more concerned about
the swans and their guests than about me.”
I nod in approval. “Way to go.”
“It was pathetically hard but refreshing.” She rests her chin in her hands, her elbows on the table. “They didn’t like that remark. And when I pushed back even more, they asked what had gotten into me. ‘This isn’t like our Claire,’” she intones, even pushing imaginary glasses up her nose.
“Just because they’re not used to you standing up for yourself doesn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing to do.”
Her eyes widen as if to underscore how much she agrees with me. “Then they changed the subject, which was a relief.” She shoots out a breath and then meets my gaze. “So what’s this party all about? I mean, I don’t have to wear heels, do I?”
I chuckle. “It’s casual dress. And I’m glad you’re finally realizing the error of those heels.”
She places a soft hand on my arm. “I’ll never apologize for wearing those shoes. They were better than a slice of chocolate cake.”
I can’t help the laugh. “But we fell in front of a couple hundred people, in part because of those shoes.”
She buries her face in her hands. “I still can’t believe you carried me out of there.” Her voice is muffled.
“I didn’t hate it.”
She looks up, her eyes dancing. “The wheezing could have fooled me.”
“I didn’t wheeze.” I laugh. This woman keeps me on my toes. “Look, this Thursday? I’ll swing by to pick you up at six. Come hungry because there’s a barbeque and everything. I promise it’s more low-key than your grandparents’ soiree was, okay?”
“Soiree?” Her head tilt brings a smile to my face. “Your vocabulary is astounding.”
“Can you come or not?”
“I’m obligated to educate you first.” Her tone is serious.
“On what?”
“You weren’t around a few years ago when my grandparents and the Tates went head-to-head on the land the resort sits on.”
“No, but I’ve heard something about it.”
