She’s here, a physical embodiment of Michael Lewis and all the other leeches who’ve come before him. They see my grandmother as an easy target. They mistake her generosity for a weakness, and they feed off of it.
Maren glides around the room on air, and for a moment, at first glance, I’m struck by her looks, but then I remind myself that her beauty shouldn’t be surprising at all. It all fits. It’s just another weapon I’m sure she’s quick to use to her advantage.
My jaw locks tight as she continues to turn heads. Everyone she passes takes notice. She sweeps past in white lace and leaves necks bending in her wake. She could have anyone here eating out of the palm of her hand with one wag of her finger, as I’m sure she’s well aware.
When she picks up a champagne glass and brings it to her lips, I assume it’s for show. She has to know how many of us are watching her right now, studying her every move. My eyes narrow and then, suddenly, she glances up and her gaze meets mine. It feels like a solid punch to the gut. Surprised green eyes take me in cautiously, and I’m glad she found me staring so angrily at her. It means the pretense is over.
She frowns, confused by my expression, but I don’t soften it. I stare, willing her to see that the jig is up. She’s been found out.
Leave, my expression demands, and she listens, just not in the way I would have wanted.
She slips out of the ballroom and walks out into the garden. I follow instinctively, reaching up and untying the ribbon holding my mask in place then stuffing it into the pocket of my tuxedo pants.
The tension inside me only builds with each step I take. Endorphins rush in, anticipating my encounter with her as I step outside.
The ball extends out into my grandmother’s rose garden, which has been lit up for guests with twinkle lights that droop heavily from the trees. It’s early though, and no one has made it out here yet, except for me and Maren. It’s easy to spot her as she walks farther away from the house toward the cliffs at the back edge of the property.
I wonder if she knows I’m following her. I wonder if she wants me to. After all, she’s walking slowly, and it doesn’t take me long to catch her. If her intent was to slink away unnoticed, she could have tried a little harder.
When my pace matches hers, she stops in the grass and wraps her arms around her waist. I can’t tell whether it’s from the slight chill in the air or fear of what’s about to happen.
I stop too, turning to face her so the lights in the trees shine behind her. She takes on such an ethereal form that I find myself unable to speak.
Who is this person and why is she here? With us?
“I was hoping you wouldn’t follow me,” she says, affecting a neutral, almost bored tone. “You seem upset with me, though I have no idea why.” She tips her head, studying me. “Do we know each other?”
“No. We’ve never met.”
She looks down, as if expecting me to extend my hand and issue a formal introduction, but I don’t.
Her eyes narrow.
“Are you a guest of Cornelia’s?” she asks, turning back toward the house briefly as if suddenly nervous to find herself alone out here with a complete stranger.
“Yes. Are you?”
She nods, but then amends her reply. “Well, tonight at least…I am.”
“And tomorrow? What happens then?” I ask, tilting my head.
“Oh…I’m…” She shakes her head and glances down self-consciously. “I’ll go back to what I was before.”
“Her employee?”
She looks back up at me, shocked by my question. “What? How did you know that? Who are you? You seem familiar now that I think about it.”
“I’m just someone seeking the truth. And who are you?”
“Oh, are we answering in riddles?” The corners of her full lips rise into a smirk. “Compared to everyone else here? I’m no one.”
“Is it your intention to become someone then?”
Her arms tighten around her. “I doubt that’s possible.”
A gust of wind blows off the ocean, sending her hair into disarray. The mess only makes her more beautiful. No, I think. She’s wrong; with a face like that, it’s definitely possible.
“So then why are you here?”
To continue taking advantage of my grandmother?
“Like I said…I’m Cornelia’s guest,” she says, regaining the ground she lost between us, stepping closer to me as if trying to prove she’s not afraid.
I have quite a few inches on her, so she has to tilt her head back to meet my eyes. When she does, I’m surprised by how scared she looks, surprised she can feign the emotion so well.
“You’re her employee.”
Her eyebrows furrow in annoyance.
“So what?”
I ignore the question and get on to matters I’m much more curious about.
“Did Cornelia put you in that dress? And what about that necklace? Was it a gift too?”
She reaches up to touch the diamond draped around her slender neck. “Who says this isn’t mine?” she challenges with a cool tone.
I huff out a cruel laugh and step closer, wanting to be sure every word is heard over the howling wind. “I say so. That necklace once belonged to my mother.”
Her jaw drops and she looks down as if seeing her outfit in a different light now. “I didn’t know…” she whispers.
As if that makes it any better.
“I think you should leave.”
“The party?”
“Newport,” I say, my unyielding tone leaving no room for opposition.
“But I’m Cornelia’s—”
“Employee. Yes, we’re clear on that. And I’m her grandson.”
My blunt words slice through the air and she whispers my name under her breath, anger evident as she gives me a once-over. It’s like she’s trying to memorize what I look like so she can avoid crossing paths with me ever again.
“What a wonderful introduction we’ve had. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Now, if you’re done trying to intimidate me, I think I’d like to go back to the party. As I am Cornelia’s guest, she’s probably wondering where I’ve gone. I wouldn’t want her to think I’ve stumbled into harm’s way.”
She picks up the skirt of her gown and puts her back to me, walking quickly up to the house so that I’m left out there alone, stewing in anger as the remnants of her floral scent still linger in the air.
It’s one thing for Cornelia to keep her here, quite another for Maren to insist on staying even after I’ve asked her to leave.
She must really like the gig she’s set up for herself—invitations to exclusive parties, decadent jewelry, designer clothes. I wonder how deeply she plans on embedding herself in my grandmother’s life and how long she’s willing to put up with me.
11
Maren
When my parents died in a car accident, I was at home alone, reading. It was their anniversary, and my dad had surprised my mom with tickets to a local play. They were due home before my bedtime. Sometime after dinner, police officers came and banged on the front door of our apartment loud enough to wake the dead. When I unlatched the deadbolt and creaked the door open a smidge, a gruff man peered over the top of my head and asked me if there were any adults present in the house.