came,” Lola exclaimed, looking at me like I was a new toy to play with. William looked less excited.
I barely managed a smile before Lola pulled me into a hug, which I endured mutely, my arms hanging at my sides, my brain overwhelmed with the smell of perfume.
“I thought William forgot to invite you. We aren’t used to having a famous author living so close.”
“Oh, I wasn’t invited,” I managed to say.
She finally released me from her death grip. “A party crasher,” she winked. “I like you even more.”
“She’s with me,” Fagan said brightly, standing beside me.
“Well, aren’t you two just adorable,” Lola exclaimed.
I wanted to grimace, but tried to move away from him instead. The way Lola’s eyebrows shot up and William smiled, I felt like I had to explain, but Lola grabbed my arm and pulled me away before I could. “You won’t mind if I borrow Ella will you, Carter? There are just so many people I’d like for her to meet,” she said sweetly. When we were out of earshot she loosened her grip and smiled. “You looked like you wanted to be saved.”
“You have no idea.”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “You’re not having a good time with him? But he’s so easy on the eyes.”
“But hard on my temper.”
She smiled widely. “Why’d you agree to go out with him?”
I shook my head, already tired of saying this wasn’t a date. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, I, for one, am glad you did. Now I can get to know you better. We hardly spoke at Martha’s dinner party. I was worried you were dreadfully boring or shy.” She feinted horror.
Smiling and nodding at people as we breezed by them, Lola swept me through the room, whispering names and little tidbits of information, like “This is Sylvia King, her family is in horses. Her husband dresses in women’s clothes.” All of which I had no response for. Large parties didn’t put me at my A-game. Before long, she gracefully passed me a drink that seemed to materialize out of thin air. I stared at the martini in my hand, no longer hearing anything she was saying. I lifted it a little closer so I could smell the gin.
She tugged on my arm again, apparently having found an acceptable spot for us to sit down. She patted a cushion on a small loveseat tucked back in the corner of the room, and I perched as bidden.
“That’s a gorgeous dress. Wherever did you get it?”
“Martha let me borrow it.”
“Oh, vintage. Very nice.” She gave a bright smile. “So did you talk to my son today?”
The martini inched closer to my lips. “Briefly,” I said. “He didn’t seem interested in talking to me.”
The first hint of a frown marred her red lips. “Alfie is an unusual boy. He always has been.”
“Did he know Mary well?”
“Until William told me you wanted to talk to him about her, I wasn’t aware that he knew her at all.”
“Yet you’re starting a scholarship in her name.”
Lola nodded. “It was William’s idea. He thought the town should do something to remember the poor girl.” Her hands wrung together. “If I ask you a question, will you answer honestly?”
I nodded.
“Do you think Alfie had something to do with her death?”
I struggled to keep my face blank. “I really don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him.” She didn’t look relieved at all. “Do you think he did?”
“That’s the problem, Ella, I don’t know. Shouldn’t I know that about my own child? He’s always been a mystery to me and as he got older, it was one behavior problem after another. William won’t talk about it. He ignores it, says he is just a boy,” she whispered, leaning in toward me.
“I honestly don’t know anything about your son.”
“When are you meeting him?”
“Probably Monday, if he’ll agree to it.”
“Oh, he’ll meet you all right. I’ll have him at the Corner Bakery in Smithton—it’s right near the campus—Monday morning at 9:00 a.m. Does that work for
I barely managed a smile before Lola pulled me into a hug, which I endured mutely, my arms hanging at my sides, my brain overwhelmed with the smell of perfume.
“I thought William forgot to invite you. We aren’t used to having a famous author living so close.”
“Oh, I wasn’t invited,” I managed to say.
She finally released me from her death grip. “A party crasher,” she winked. “I like you even more.”
“She’s with me,” Fagan said brightly, standing beside me.
“Well, aren’t you two just adorable,” Lola exclaimed.
I wanted to grimace, but tried to move away from him instead. The way Lola’s eyebrows shot up and William smiled, I felt like I had to explain, but Lola grabbed my arm and pulled me away before I could. “You won’t mind if I borrow Ella will you, Carter? There are just so many people I’d like for her to meet,” she said sweetly. When we were out of earshot she loosened her grip and smiled. “You looked like you wanted to be saved.”
“You have no idea.”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “You’re not having a good time with him? But he’s so easy on the eyes.”
“But hard on my temper.”
She smiled widely. “Why’d you agree to go out with him?”
I shook my head, already tired of saying this wasn’t a date. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, I, for one, am glad you did. Now I can get to know you better. We hardly spoke at Martha’s dinner party. I was worried you were dreadfully boring or shy.” She feinted horror.
Smiling and nodding at people as we breezed by them, Lola swept me through the room, whispering names and little tidbits of information, like “This is Sylvia King, her family is in horses. Her husband dresses in women’s clothes.” All of which I had no response for. Large parties didn’t put me at my A-game. Before long, she gracefully passed me a drink that seemed to materialize out of thin air. I stared at the martini in my hand, no longer hearing anything she was saying. I lifted it a little closer so I could smell the gin.
She tugged on my arm again, apparently having found an acceptable spot for us to sit down. She patted a cushion on a small loveseat tucked back in the corner of the room, and I perched as bidden.
“That’s a gorgeous dress. Wherever did you get it?”
“Martha let me borrow it.”
“Oh, vintage. Very nice.” She gave a bright smile. “So did you talk to my son today?”
The martini inched closer to my lips. “Briefly,” I said. “He didn’t seem interested in talking to me.”
The first hint of a frown marred her red lips. “Alfie is an unusual boy. He always has been.”
“Did he know Mary well?”
“Until William told me you wanted to talk to him about her, I wasn’t aware that he knew her at all.”
“Yet you’re starting a scholarship in her name.”
Lola nodded. “It was William’s idea. He thought the town should do something to remember the poor girl.” Her hands wrung together. “If I ask you a question, will you answer honestly?”
I nodded.
“Do you think Alfie had something to do with her death?”
I struggled to keep my face blank. “I really don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him.” She didn’t look relieved at all. “Do you think he did?”
“That’s the problem, Ella, I don’t know. Shouldn’t I know that about my own child? He’s always been a mystery to me and as he got older, it was one behavior problem after another. William won’t talk about it. He ignores it, says he is just a boy,” she whispered, leaning in toward me.
“I honestly don’t know anything about your son.”
“When are you meeting him?”
“Probably Monday, if he’ll agree to it.”
“Oh, he’ll meet you all right. I’ll have him at the Corner Bakery in Smithton—it’s right near the campus—Monday morning at 9:00 a.m. Does that work for
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