Page 10 of Stay Toxic

“I see payment notifications from a cafe in town? I do hope it was a nice place.”

I don’t squirm. “It was, thank you. Tanya’s theater is just across the road.”

“How is she getting on with the ballet?”

“Well, I believe. I’m going to see it on Thursday.”

“Mm. Do give her my best. And your classes?”

“They start tomorrow. I met a Doyle yesterday, by the way. Well, a Beaufort, née Doyle.”

She practically creams her damn panties, leaning in. “That must be the young Calla, yes? Do stay friends with the girl, Hestia. Her father’s a lovely man—corporate law. He’s worked with your father’s company—yourlegacy—more times than I can count, and he’s always been fair.”

That sounds like a lecture, condemning me for not justknowingall these things. Like I don’t deserve to be the sole heiress to my father’s fortune because I don’t know everything about the ins and outs of his business.Which she’snot letting me learn about.I’m supposed to just spontaneously know all these things.

“Right. Calla’s lovely.” I don’t mention the invitation I declined, knowing it would set me up for another lecture. “Any reason why you’re calling? I didn’t think we were scheduled for a chat until Saturday?”

“Can’t a mother call her child?”

A mother, sure. Senator Cole, no. She doesn’t give a single fuck about how I’m doing.

“Your grandfather is being difficult about releasing the funds we need for quarter four. He reminds me that investments of a certain amount have to be co-signed by the beneficiary.”

I cringe at the way her mouth tightens around her teeth. At least, I’m not here to suffer the brunt of her anger this time.

“I’ll give him a call to make sure he authorizes it,” I say, for two simple reasons.

One: Senator Cole actually cares about Cole Investments staying profitable. She sits on the board of the company, and makes decisions that keep the cash growing.

Two: I don’t have a choice.

“See that you do. I will call Saturday, at eleven, as scheduled.”

I’m sure she will.I speak to my daughter every weekis one of the lines she’s prepared for her campaign debate every cycle, to remind the world that she’s a lovely mother.

Barf.

“Speak to you then.”

* * *

The first thing I do on Tuesday morning after that lovely phone call is look into the swimming pool.

I don’t want to compete, so joining the team is out of the question, but I definitely would like access to the state-of-the-art pool in the basement of the modern building Calla Beaufort called The Dome.

I almost turn around with my tail between my legs when I get to the faculty building—Rose Hall—and recognized Ari’s cousin, but my roommate must already have had a chat with her, because she isn’t quite as frosty with me as she was on Sunday. She’s not glaring at me today, but I can’t say she’s as friendly as she had been before my blunter.

“Ms. Cole, right?” she says, seeing me approach.

Yep. Shedefinitelyhasn’t forgotten a thing.

“That’s it.”

“Ari tells me you two are going to the ballet,” she says with a smile that might have looked friendly if her eyes hadn’t narrowed quite so much. “I’m glad to hear things have improved between you two.”

I nod five times in a row. “Yep. We have no problem. We just communicated. Thank you.”

“Good,” she replies curtly. “I’m happy it’s all cleared up.”