Page 73 of Burning Daylight
My eyes fling from her to Beverly, who’s now standing in the corner of the room with her head tilted down and her fingers clasped together like she’s waiting on my mother’s next command.
That’s what’s expected at the Calloway estate, but it still irritates me to see it.
“Juliette,” my mother snaps, and my stare slingshots to hers. “Are you paying attention?”
“Yes, Mother. Unfortunately, you make it impossible to ignore you.” Sighing, I place my coffee down on the tray table and walk toward her.
Her lips pinch tight, small vertical lines from years of smoking in secret becoming more pronounced around the shape of her mouth.
I stand straight and wait for her to pick me apart. There’s no use fighting her; arguing with my mom is like banging my head against a reinforced concrete wall. One with spikes. It does nothing but fuel her, yet somehow, I always end up broken and bloodied.
A blue dress is in her hands, and she holds it up to me, frowning, stretching out the sides like she’s trying to make it fit against my front. “You’ve gained weight.”
My jaw tenses, and I stiffen my back, not responding.
This is the type of bullshit I didnotmiss.
She shakes her head, tossing the gown haphazardly into Beverly’s hands.
“You’ll come with me to Pilates tomorrow,” she states.
Another dress. This time a light pastel pink. My favorite color. “Sure, Mom. Whatever you want.”
We both know she won’t make me actually go. I’m sure this is the only time this month we’ll have one-on-one time. She’s a virtual ghost in my life, only appearing when absolutely necessary.
Any extra energy she does have goes toward my brothers.
“I guess this is as good as it will get.” She holds the pink gown to my front, her head tilting, lips pursing in distaste. “We’ll need an entirely new wardrobe for the Founders’ Gala. I had given measurements based off what youshouldbe, not where you clearly are.”
“I think it’s pretty,” I reply, ignoring her jabs about what I’ll be wearing to the most obnoxious event of the town.
The dress for today is knee length and sleeveless, the pink fabric flowing like a waterfall.
My mother’s eyes meet mine. “Preston will be here.”
I frown, remembering that stupid tabloid post earlier. “Preston, as in myex-boyfriend?”
“He’s the governor’s son.”
“Yeah, I’m aware.” My voice is flat. “Who invited him? I don’t want to see him.”
She looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “His father’s up for reelection, and you know how important it is for whoever holds that seat to be someone your father backs. Preston is an upstanding gentleman, and he’s eager to see you again.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Is all that supposed to mean something to me?”
“Don’t be ungrateful,” she snaps. “You can hardly blame a man for wanting to go out into the world and make something of himself. It’s knowing he always comes home that’s important, and Preston is ready to come home, Juliette.”
Her hand runs along the length of the dress, tilting her head to the side as she keeps it pressed to my front.
“Your father and I always liked the two of you together. He was a fine boy, and he’s turned into a powerful man. You’d do well to be on his arm.”
She gives me a severe look, and I get the message loud and clear.
Play your part.
Suddenly, the main reason for me being at this fundraiser instead of graduation makes perfect sense.
“Bevie,” I say over my shoulder. “Can you open the window? It’s feeling a little seventeenth century-ish in here.”
