“Oh?”
“Yes. It’s a stunning building. The lobby always looks so inviting yet professional. I have no doubt my mother would give it the interior design tick of approval.”
“Thank you. That’s so kind.” Her eyes crinkled at the edges as her smile widened. “Where do you volunteer? I think it’s so important for young people to give back to the community.” The last was delivered to the small group of people beginning to gather around us, who all murmured their agreement.
“I volunteer with Devilbend Community Legal Center every two weeks,” I told her. “It’s right on the corner near your building. Actually, I believe you own the building that the nonprofit rents.”
“Do I?” She chuckled, and everyone else did too, not that she’d made an actual joke. “I own so many I can’t keep track of them all, dear. I have a team of people managing all my assets.”
“Of course.” I smiled sweetly. “It’s so wonderful that you allow a nonprofit to rent the space. I believe it’s just as important for corporations to give back to the community as it is for young people.” I threw her words back at her. “If you’d allow me to be so forward, I do wonder if you’d consider looking into this particular property personally? The rent is reasonable for such a prime location downtown, I’m sure, but every penny saved could go toward helping disadvantaged members of the community. It is the season for giving, after all.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Uncle Heath bring his scotch up to his mouth, trying to hide an amused smile. But my focus stayed trained on Raine Clayton.
She cocked her head to the side and studied me as if she were seeing me for the first time. Just as the silence was about to extend to an uncomfortable length, a slow smile graced her face. “You’re a C3, bordering on C2, and easily an A2 also. Remarkable for someone so young.”
“Oh, I was thinking the same.” Suzanne nodded enthusiastically, looking between us.
“Uh, thank you?” I laughed lightly, trying not to show how much this nutcase was confusing me. “I don’t think I’m familiar with those terms.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I live and breathe BestLyf principles. I sometimes forget not everyone knows our lingo. It basically means you’re confident and assertive. Not many teenagers are. The combination can come off as arrogant at times.”
I frowned. Did she just call me arrogant? But she barreled on before I could respond.
“You have rare leadership talents—the kind one is born with. The kind people undertaking leadership seminars would kill to have.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.” She’d given me several compliments, but I itched to probe her about the arrogance comment. I wasn’t arrogant. Was I? There was something imposing about her presence, despite her understated look. Or maybe because of it. But the way she spoke, so articulately and with such certainty, was a little mesmerizing.
“Raine is amazing, Donna. Her program got me from a graduate position with an unknown legal firm to being considered for partner at Paulsen and Price within five years. I’ve learned so much! You should look into their Young Minds program.”
“Yes, I think you’d be an ideal candidate.” Raine smiled at me warmly, as if she were already proud of the achievements I had yet to accomplish. “And I promise to look into this little rent issue.” She waved her hand dismissively and took another sip of champagne.
“Thank you. I’ll certainly look into your program.” If it could fast-track my plans for the future, I’d be an idiot not to. Maybe I could escape this crushing pressure sooner and start enjoying my life before my forties. Wow! What a depressingly middle-aged thought to have. Where the hell had that come from?
“Donna excels at all she does.” Uncle Heath gently squeezed my shoulder, the pride in his face so obvious you’d think I was his daughter. But Raine was now engaged in conversation with some of the other people gathered around her and was no longer paying attention to either of us.
A tall man in a dark suit walked past in my periphery, and for a moment, I could’ve sworn Hendrix had just waltzed uninvited through my parents’ Christmas party. A quick glance told me it was someone whose name I didn’t know, possibly my mom’s PA, but that didn’t stop the bone-aching urge to turn in his direction from coursing through my body.
The tight waist on the dress felt like a rope around my middle, holding me back from chasing him down. My breathing got shallow, and the conversation I was supposed to be a part of faded into the background.
Every time I thought about how he’d acted the night of the party—how he’d seemed to know what I was feeling and what I needed before I even said it—I got this weird panicky feeling in my chest. My mind couldn’t seem to articulate what was racing through it, and my body got fidgety and restless.
I didn’t like it.
It was inconvenient and unwanted. The only way to deal with it was to remove the trigger. So I’d started avoiding him. I had the girls help me keep tabs on him under the guise of keeping an eye on a troublemaker, but really, I used the information to avoid bumping into him at school.
The frustrating thing was, the more I avoided him, the worse my reaction was any time I spotted him—or thought I did.
I took another sip, trying to bring myself back to the present. I was being rude, but I’d lost all interest in this conversation, these people, and this party.
Jasmin pushed through the crowd, the worried expression on her face snagging my attention and giving me a good excuse to bail.
“Could you all please excuse me? There’s something I need to attend to.” I smiled politely and left, catching up to Jasmin just as she reached the makeshift bar area in the foyer.
“Can I get a scotch on the rocks, please? Actually, make it a double.” She leaned on the bar heavily as the bartender moved off to pour her drink.
I nudged her shoulder. “Talking to my dad has driven you to drinking?”
“Donna.” She straightened, looking at me warily.
I frowned. “Shit. It actually did? What did he say?”
“No, it’s not like that. He was lovely. I . . .” She took a deep breath and gave me her customer service smile. “It’s Christmas. We don’t need to talk about this. Are you having a drink?”
The bartender placed a glass of amber liquid in front of her, and she took a big sip and winced slightly.
“I’m eighteen,” I reminded her. “And you run a legal center.”
“Ha! Yeah, right. Sorry.”
“Jasmin, come on. What’s going on? I’m not going to be able to stop worrying. You may as well just tell me.”
She watched me warily for a moment, then took another sip of her scotch and nodded. “OK, let’s sit somewhere.”
Shit. A sit-down conversation. What the hell was this serious? As trepidation clawed at the base of my rib cage, I led her to a chaise lounge in the foyer, away from the party going on in the main living area of the house.
Jasmin was a direct woman—she had to be in her field of work—and she cut right to the chase. “I’m so sorry, Donna, but I have to terminate your volunteer position at the center, effective immediately.”