longer. “Mr. Sanders usually keeps me informed when a Charleston house sells. Is your family the one renovating the home across the street? Or are you off the peninsula?”
“She doesn’t live in Charleston, Mother,” Victor said. He moved again, shifting so he was half blocking me this time. “You’ve been introduced. I’d invite you to stay, but we’re really busy.”
“Don’t be so impolite, Victor. I’ve taught you better than that.” She turned her attention back to me. “Are you attending the Academy?”
“She does not,” Victor said.
My eyes drifted between Victor and his mother, feeling the strange intensity between them. Their eyes challenged each other, hers with unspoken questions, his with demanding for her to leave. What was wrong with Victor? Was he unhappy I’d met her? Was he ashamed of me?
“How did you meet her? What do you know about her?”
“We just met,” Victor said. “I’m giving her a ride. I wanted to show her the view before we left.”
“Why don’t you invite her downstairs? You haven’t given her the tour.”
“I’m sorry. We’re very busy. We’ve got plans.”
“Oh,” she said. The question was in her eyes before she spoke. “So you are dating.”
“No. We just met. It’s a ... project for school. She doesn't attend but she’s helping me.”
I clamped my lips shut, shrinking behind Victor’s shoulder. Suddenly, I was ashamed to be standing there. Was this the same Victor who I’d felt was about to kiss me? Had I been wrong? It was like he wanted to shrug me off as an acquaintance to be forgotten.
“There’s no need to be so brisk,” Mrs. Morgan said. “You should invite her to dinner. I see Silas is here. Would he like to join us? Have you told anyone?”
My heart thundered. Told who? His father? Who else would care to know?
“I’d rather keep her out of circles, if you don’t mind.”
Alarm lit her eyes to a roar. “Why?” she asked with a tone suggesting she knew the answer, but was afraid to utter it.
“I’d rather not deliver a media kit to the press when she’ll only be here once or twice.”
“If you don’t, it rings of scandal.” She frowned. “Why don’t you let me talk to the publicist for you?”
“Please, don’t.”
His mother tilted her head, turning partially away. “Well, if it isn’t that serious, I guess I shouldn’t worry about it.”
Victor grunted under his breath. “I’ll give her the tour another day,” he said, sounding as if he wanted to give his mother something to satisfy her for now, since he didn’t want the publicist to talk to me. “Just not right now. We’ve got other things to do.”
“Oh, yes,” she said. She turned away, her eyes falling on the single clock on top of the desk. Her head tilted toward it, as if at first she wasn’t able to figure out what was wrong. “Victor? Did your clock break?” She picked it up, checking the face.
“It’s fine,” Victor said.
“I can have it fixed,” she said. She shook the clock. “I’ll call Muriel.”
“No,” Victor said sharply. He crossed the room, plucking the desk clock from her hands. “It’s fine how it is. I like it this way.”
“But it’s going backwards.”
“I want to keep it this way, Mother.” His hands cupped the clock as he held it against his chest. “I’m sorry. We are busy.”
She drifted to the door, opening it. “Of course. You were discussing her birthday.”
Apprehension seized through me. How long had she been listening?
“It was lovely to meet you, Miss Sorenson.”
I stepped beside Victor, peeling my lips apart to find my voice, soft and almost squeak free. “Thank you. It was nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Morgan.” I bowed my head slightly. I wasn’t sure what else to say. Should I compliment her clothes? Should I offer to talk to her publicist? If that’s all she wanted, I didn’t mind. It was Victor’s mother. He’d said his father told him horrible things, but I hadn’t
“She doesn’t live in Charleston, Mother,” Victor said. He moved again, shifting so he was half blocking me this time. “You’ve been introduced. I’d invite you to stay, but we’re really busy.”
“Don’t be so impolite, Victor. I’ve taught you better than that.” She turned her attention back to me. “Are you attending the Academy?”
“She does not,” Victor said.
My eyes drifted between Victor and his mother, feeling the strange intensity between them. Their eyes challenged each other, hers with unspoken questions, his with demanding for her to leave. What was wrong with Victor? Was he unhappy I’d met her? Was he ashamed of me?
“How did you meet her? What do you know about her?”
“We just met,” Victor said. “I’m giving her a ride. I wanted to show her the view before we left.”
“Why don’t you invite her downstairs? You haven’t given her the tour.”
“I’m sorry. We’re very busy. We’ve got plans.”
“Oh,” she said. The question was in her eyes before she spoke. “So you are dating.”
“No. We just met. It’s a ... project for school. She doesn't attend but she’s helping me.”
I clamped my lips shut, shrinking behind Victor’s shoulder. Suddenly, I was ashamed to be standing there. Was this the same Victor who I’d felt was about to kiss me? Had I been wrong? It was like he wanted to shrug me off as an acquaintance to be forgotten.
“There’s no need to be so brisk,” Mrs. Morgan said. “You should invite her to dinner. I see Silas is here. Would he like to join us? Have you told anyone?”
My heart thundered. Told who? His father? Who else would care to know?
“I’d rather keep her out of circles, if you don’t mind.”
Alarm lit her eyes to a roar. “Why?” she asked with a tone suggesting she knew the answer, but was afraid to utter it.
“I’d rather not deliver a media kit to the press when she’ll only be here once or twice.”
“If you don’t, it rings of scandal.” She frowned. “Why don’t you let me talk to the publicist for you?”
“Please, don’t.”
His mother tilted her head, turning partially away. “Well, if it isn’t that serious, I guess I shouldn’t worry about it.”
Victor grunted under his breath. “I’ll give her the tour another day,” he said, sounding as if he wanted to give his mother something to satisfy her for now, since he didn’t want the publicist to talk to me. “Just not right now. We’ve got other things to do.”
“Oh, yes,” she said. She turned away, her eyes falling on the single clock on top of the desk. Her head tilted toward it, as if at first she wasn’t able to figure out what was wrong. “Victor? Did your clock break?” She picked it up, checking the face.
“It’s fine,” Victor said.
“I can have it fixed,” she said. She shook the clock. “I’ll call Muriel.”
“No,” Victor said sharply. He crossed the room, plucking the desk clock from her hands. “It’s fine how it is. I like it this way.”
“But it’s going backwards.”
“I want to keep it this way, Mother.” His hands cupped the clock as he held it against his chest. “I’m sorry. We are busy.”
She drifted to the door, opening it. “Of course. You were discussing her birthday.”
Apprehension seized through me. How long had she been listening?
“It was lovely to meet you, Miss Sorenson.”
I stepped beside Victor, peeling my lips apart to find my voice, soft and almost squeak free. “Thank you. It was nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Morgan.” I bowed my head slightly. I wasn’t sure what else to say. Should I compliment her clothes? Should I offer to talk to her publicist? If that’s all she wanted, I didn’t mind. It was Victor’s mother. He’d said his father told him horrible things, but I hadn’t
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