Edgewater

Edgewater by Courtney Sheinmel Page A

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Authors: Courtney Sheinmel
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and symmetrical as the Eiffel Tower. People were reaching hands out toward her. She would reach back and give them a squeeze or occasionally lean in for a hug or an air kiss. She was mesmerizing to watch.
    â€œShit,” Charlie said. “We’ve been spotted.” His mother came up the stairs, a woman in a navy suit at her heels. Lennoxgrabbed my hand and squeezed it hard. This was the moment she’d been waiting for; one of the moments, at least. I could practically hear what she was thinking:
Now I get to shake the hand of the next First Lady.
    â€œCharlie,” Julia Copeland said when she reached us, leaning in toward her son and taking the opportunity to sweep his bangs from his forehead. “I’ve been looking for you.”
    â€œI’ve been with my friends,” Charlie said.
    â€œI thought you said you hadn’t invited anyone,” she said.
    â€œSurprise,” he said.
    A few steps away a crowd had gathered in parentheses around the two of them, people trying to look oh-so-casual, as if they just happened to be standing right by that very spot.
    Julia looked Lennox and me up and down, then looked back at her son. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
    â€œSure,” he said. “Lorrie, Lennox, please meet the Famous Talking Julia Doll.”
    â€œCharles, please,” Julia Copeland said. She took a step toward us and shook my hand, then Lennox’s. “Good to meet you, girls.”
    â€œIt’s nice to meet you, too,” I said.
    â€œThank you so much for having us, Mrs. Copeland,” Lennox said. “I’ve actually seen you speak before—at the Rally for Women in DC last year. My entire American Government and Law class attended. You were so inspiring.”
    â€œThat’s kind of you to say.”
    â€œI’m excited to see your husband tonight, too.”
    â€œUnfortunately, he was called away. No such thing as a holiday weekend when there’s a bill on the floor.”
    â€œBut I thought . . . I thought the Senate wasn’t in session right now.”
    â€œJulia!” We all swiveled our heads. “Julia!” A woman rushed toward us; well, rushed as well as she could on five-inch strappy sandals. Beth-Ann Bracelee had the same ones in multiple colors: Yves Saint Laurent.
    The woman in navy bent toward Julia’s ear and whispered helpful information: “That’s Jill Whitley-Ford. Platinum sponsor this evening.”
    â€œDon’t go anywhere,” Julia told Charlie. She raised her hand to wave.
    â€œJulia!” Jill Whitley-Ford said, pushing Lennox and me out of the way. She grasped Julia Copeland’s arm.
    â€œJill, what a pleasure to see you again.”
    â€œThe pleasure is mine,” Jill Whitley-Ford said. “And this gorgeous young man?” She looked up at Charlie adoringly. “My daughter’s still in elementary school, but I’m reserving you right now. Sloane is all yours in about ten years, okay?”
    â€œGross,” I whispered to Lennox.
    â€œThe Senate’s not in session right now,” Lennox whispered back.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIt’s not in session. There can’t be a bill on the floor.”
    â€œYou look simply divine, Julia,” Jill said.
    â€œThis old thing?” Julia Copeland flashed a glorious smile. “I just threw it on.”
    Jill threw her head back and laughed, as if it was the funniest and most original joke she’d ever heard.
    Charlie stepped away from them and grabbed my hand.“Now’s our chance,” he said. My palm felt slippery against his, which was as cool and dry as a piece of paper. I grabbed Lennox’s hand with my left, and we raced down the steps. Hundreds of guests were mingling on a lawn as vast and well kept as the rolling fairways of the club’s eighteen-hole golf course. Charlie led us to the catering tent set up by the side of the tennis courts. He told us to

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