“We are the Joneses, Evelyn Grace! We go to every fundraiser in town. Imagine how it would look if word got out that I wasn’t even invited to my own daughter’s event?”
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the mother that raised me. She is putting up a big fight, not because she’s hurt that I didn’t want her at the fundraiser, but because she’s afraid of what people would think. This is so classic Melony Jones. It’s how she’s acted every single day of my life.
Maybe I should move to a new town. Somewhere far away where the Jones name means nothing.
But I relent because I don’t have the time to go eighteen rounds with her. “Fine, Mama. Consider this your and Daddy’s official invitation. It’s Satur—”
Mama holds up her hand and then starts rifling through her purse. “Don’t bother. I already have all the details on this laser-printed invitation I took off of Deborah’s fridge.” She levels me with a frosty scowl. “Because Deborah and her family received one.”
I knew she would mention something about the printing. Mama is the queen of event planning. She would rather saw off her arm to pay for the finest engraved linen invitations than have to settle for mere laser printing.
I gesture toward the invite. “So, apparently you didn’t have to do too much acting when Monica told you about the event since you had already stolen that invitation from one of your friends. Remind me, do they teach theft in cotillion? It’s been so long I don’t remember.”
Mama’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Now that’s enough sass from you, young lady. Like it or not, your daddy and I will be at the benefit.” She tucks her stolen invite back into her Coach purse.
She turns away and starts swinging her hips as she walks toward the door, and without looking back, she gets one final punch in. “By the way, I already talked with Monica, and the drumsticks you originally ordered will never work for a black-tie event. I had her change the menu to salmon and chicken cutlets. If you want people to give like millionaires, don’t expect them to eat with their fingers like cavemen.”
I’m looking around for something I can throw at this woman, but whether because of the good Lord’s mercy or my own bad luck, there’s nothing nearby.
She pauses with her hand on the door. “Oh, and I expect you to send a proper invitation to Tyler and his parents.”
“Sure. I’ll get right on that as soon as pigs fly.”
Mama swivels her lazy frown back at me. “I raised you to have more class than that. This is proof you’ve been spending too much time with that Joanna woman. Act like a southern lady, dear. Not a backwoods bumpkin.”
I watch her disappear through the door and hear her chuckle with Monica on the other side of it. I wonder if this is how the rest of my life is going to be. Will I ever be outside of my mama’s reach in this town? Is there anyone who works within the state of South Carolina who hasn’t worked for Melony Jones in some fashion?
Southern Service Paws is usually my safe haven, but now it feels like Mama has wiggled her way in the back door somehow.
I despise the idea of accepting my parents’ money or using their name in any way, but I do know that if word spreads around town that they are attending the benefit, all the other elitists will come too. No one wants to be the couple that didn’t attend the same event as Melony and Harold Jones. And likely, if they see my mama offering up a check, the money will pour in like manna from heaven. Now that I think about it, it was selfish of me not to invite them in the first place.
For the sake of the company, I can lay down my pride long enough to add my parents’ names to the guest list. But under no circumstances will I be adding Tyler Murray’s name. I’m not that selfless.
I pick up my phone and see that Joanna has texted me again. Just seeing her name on the screen helps my shoulders relax and my breathing to normalize. She has given me a place in this world that I never expected to have; the least I can do is help the company she loves thrive.
JO: After we find you a dress, we need to find you a date.
EVIE: I have one. I need to buy Charlie a tux, though.
JO: I was thinking more along the lines of that sexy dad that gave you a ride home last night.
EVIE: You’ve never even seen him.
JO: I don’t have to. When a man has a timber to his voice like that man’s, he has no choice but to be sexy. Bring him!
EVIE: No. He doesn’t like me. Besides, shouldn’t you be discouraging any fraternization between me and our clients?
JO: We’re not a PR team for a presidential candidate. Fraternize all night if you want :)
Dang it. I was really hoping she would ban any thoughts of making out with Jacob Broaden. It would be easier to swallow his rejection if I knew I couldn’t have him even if he did like me.
Chapter Ten
EVIE
I sling my purse over my shoulder and gather Charlie’s leash. It’s been a long day of training at Sam’s house, and she’s honestly done amazing. She’s picked up the techniques so quickly that I’m considering asking her to drop out of elementary school and come to work for me as a trainer.
Sam approaches me slowly as I gather my things, her bare toes scuffing the plush rug. She’s after something. She glances toward the kitchen where Jacob disappeared a moment ago and then back to me.
“Spill it,” I tell her when she works up the nerve to meet my eyes.
She smiles—something she’s started doing more and more over the past two days—and asks, “Do you think…well…there’s this birthday slumber party at one of my friend’s house coming up…”
“Mmhmm,” I say, setting my purse down and giving Sam my full attention. “Go on.”
“Do you think Daisy will be ready by then to go with me…you know…if I can convince my daddy?”
“I don’t see why not. I think you and Daisy are bonding quickly.” And that’s the truth. I’ve been impressed with how attentive Daisy has been to Sam. Anytime Sam simulates a seizure, Daisy has snapped into action immediately, rolling Sam onto her side and going to alert Jacob before returning to Sam’s side and licking her face until the “seizure” subsides.
“Oh, great.” Sam doesn’t look relieved, though. This conversation wasn’t really about asking if Daisy will be ready or not.
“Are you sure that’s all you wanted to talk about?”
“No.” Sam gives me a crooked grin that has seriously started to melt my heart.
I learned this morning when I asked if Sam’s mama could come around sometime during the next week to get acclimated with Daisy that the woman left a year ago and there is no chance of her coming back into their life. Jacob is single—a fact that doesn’t affect me whatsoever—and Sam is essentially motherless. I don’t know where this incredibly stupid woman has gone, or why she left, but I know that she left this fragile family devastated.
“Actually, I was kind of hoping that maybe you could talk to my dad about the slumber party for me. He doesn’t think it would be safe for me to go, but since you have epilepsy and live on your own with Charlie, you could convince him that I would be fine, and he would listen to you.”