Page 28 of False God

“I meant with your dad.”

Ellis sobers a little, stuffing his free hand into the pocket of his trousers. “I’m fine.”

“Is that what you told him? Maybe he doesn’t realize you’re upset—that the trip is important to you.”

“He called. I didn’t answer. We’ll talk … eventually.”

“Don’t assume there will be an eventually,” I advise. “Life is bloody short.”

Ellis says nothing in response, but I catch a couple of rapid swallows out of the corner of my eye and know he heard me.

I return to surveying the crowd. Lili is still talking to the same blond guy, and that bugs me for some reason I choose not to analyze. But I do decide to test Ellis’s brag of knowing everyone here.

“Who’s the bloke talking to Elizabeth Kensington?” I ask.

He glances in their direction. “Callahan Winston.”

I don’t recognize the name, but that’s true of most people here. I barely follow British society, let alone who’s deemed relevant in New York.

“Have you met him before?”

“Nah. Just seen him around. He spends a lot of time here.”

I let the topic drop as Georgia approaches. This is the first time I’ve seen her alone. Since we arrived, there has been an endless stream of people she simply had to catch up with.

She requests a paloma from the bartender, then smiles at me and Ellis standing together. “I have to take a photo for Arizona. Our two boys, all grown up.”

Ellis makes an amused sound in the back of his throat, but he indulges my mother, taking a step closer to me and slinging his left arm over my shoulders. We pose for a few seconds as she takes what seems like dozens of photos to share with my aunt.

“Perfect,” she proclaims. “Something to remember your visit by, Charles, until next summer.”

I’m bothered by Georgia’s assumption that I’ll be the one visiting her—again. “We canremember my visitwhen you come to Newcastle Hall.”

The smile evaporates right off my mother’s face. “Oh.” Her laugh is light and breathy and fake. “I’m not sure that’ll work out.”

“Why not?”

Ellis starts tapping his finger against the side of his glass.Tap,tap,tap. Counting each second as Georgia searches for an excuse.

“I’m really not keen on flying,” she tells me. “So many awful accidents these days.”

“You and Derek flew to Hawaii for your honeymoon.”

“Yes, well … that was for a special occasion.”

“And seeing your daughter for the first time insixteen yearsisn’t one?”

“Charles.” Georgia’s glancing around rapidly now, no longer thrilled about being amid people whose opinions she cares about. “Please don’t make a scene.”

I press my lips together as she scolds me like a misbehaving child. Disciplines me the way shedidwhen I was a misbehaving child.

Unlike Blythe, I have memories of our motherbeinga mother, and I’m not sure if my sister or I got the worst deal. You can miss something you never had, but I think you miss what you had and lost more.

Ellis is no longer tapping his glass, but he’s shifting his weight between his feet uncomfortably. He might act carefree and cavalier most of the time, but he’s not oblivious to the fact that my family’s dynamic is as messed up as his—if not more than.

I walk away from the bar before I can say anything I might regret. As I’m waiting in line at the buffet, a couple, whointroduces themselves as Olivia and Andrew Spencer, strikes up a conversation with me. John Cushing reappears and includes me in a discussion with several of his business associates. And then Ellis waves me over to the far edge of the patio. I hand my empty plate off to a uniformed waiter, then head in his direction.

There’s no sign of Georgia, but a young guy, who looks to be a similar age to Ellis, is standing next to my cousin.

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