Page 15 of Convincing Carrie
Karen chuckled. “Well,” she said, patting my shoulder, “if you don’t reach the goal, let me know. I’d be happy to make up the difference with a personal donation. In fact, you could probably skip the whole thing and just let me write you a check. I don’t know why Thatcher hasn’t already done that.”
“Well, it’s one of the most anticipated social events of the year in Indigo Falls,” I blurted, again without thinking. I was reallynothaving a good night. I looked around for Thatch, but I didn’t see him anywhere. Typical. It seemed like he was always conveniently absent when Karen’s claws came out.
“Really? The social event of the season?” If Karen’s face wasn’t still recovering from her latest Botox treatment, I’m sure she would’ve raised her eyebrows. Instead, there was just a slight widening of her eyes. “I guess that makes sense considering how limited your functions are in that little town. What’s your theme?”
Oh. My. God. This was horrible. I looked around for any sort of escape to get out of this conversation but couldn’t find one. “It’s taking place on Halloween night, so I’m taking advantage of that. It’s going to be ‘A Haunting in New Orleans’ and I’m converting the country club to look like a slightly spooky version of the Garden District. The gardens behind the country club will also be ‘haunted’ with a maze and lots of dry ice to give it a mysterious vibe.”
They all stared at me as if I’d just spoken in Latin.
Karen blinked. “That’s… a choice, I suppose. Good luck with your little dance, dear. Ladies, it’s almost time to introduce tonight’s featured guest.” She turned and walked off with all of them following after her. As always, she was the queen bee.
I drained my glass of wine and hurried to the bar for another, my hand shaking as I took some fortifying sips. My God. That had been brutal. I didn’t know why I expected any less from my witch of a mother-in-law. She’d made it very clearfrom the first time she’d met me that she thought I was trash compared to the women she’d selected for her perfect son to date.
I knew I’d never be friends with Karen. I wasn’t that naïve. Still, I’d tried hard over the last five years of marriage to develop a relationship where we could exist in peace. She wasn’t having it, though. She preferred to make me feel like a bug she’d squashed under her Louboutins.
I was drinking wine at an alarmingly fast rate, trying to steady my frayed nerves. God, I hated it here. I wondered how much longer I’d have to stay before I could politely make an exit. Thatcher could stay if he needed to network for business. But I was ditching out as soon as I could.
I sensed someone approaching and braced myself. I let out a relieved sigh when I saw that it was Celia and Bryce.
“Are you ready for tonight?” Celia asked, looking at me with what seemed like sympathy over her lowball glass.
“What do you mean? What’s tonight?”
She and Bryce exchanged a quick look. “It’s nothing,” Bryce said quickly. “Just that the spokesmodel for the new campaign will be introduced. That’s all.”
“Oh, that’s kind of exciting! I thought she wasn’t being introduced until the launch party.”
“So did we,” Celia said drily.
The tone of Celia’s voice gave me pause, but I ignored the comment. “Thatch told me a little about it, and he’s been very busy with the details. I can’t wait to meet her.” At least something good would come out of tonight’s horrific dinner party.
Bryce seemed upset. “Has Thatcher told youanythingabout the spokesmodel?”
I frowned. “The spokesmodel specifically?”
They both nodded, looking hopeful.
I looked between the two of them. “No,” I said slowly. “Why would he?”
Celia looked a little pale. “I’m going to get another drink.”
“But your glass is full,” I said.
She tossed it back in one gulp. “Now I’m in need of another.”
Bryce made an excuse to leave, too, and I wondered why they were acting so strangely. I found myself standing alone yet again by the bar. There were worse spots to be, but I wanted to be with Thatcher. I looked around for him but didn’t spot him anywhere.
I was only half listening when a couple of women I recognized as Olive’s friends stood near the bar talking.
“Can you believe she doesn’t even know?”
“No,” the other woman sounded aghast. “I would kill my husband if he did something like that to me.”
“Do you think he warned her before they got here at least?”
“If he didn’t, he’s a damn fool.”
“Ooh, look, there’s Begonia Northam. Let’s see how bad her boob job is.”
