“It has just been the craziest day, but anything for baby girl, right?” It was clearly a rhetorical question as she kept walking while Oz rolled their cart of cupcakes behind her, following her out to the patio, where a table had been set aside to display the cupcakes.
Mrs. Weston was dressed in an adorable short sundress that showed off her toned legs and her very high heels. Her blond hair was highlighted and styled in tousled waves. She had on a chunky coral necklace and matching earrings, and her makeup was flawless, making her forty-five years look more like thirty-five.
When they reached the table, Oz started to unload the boxes and Mel took one and lifted the lid so Mrs. Weston could see the cupcakes in all their sugary goodness. She clapped her hands together and let loose a squeal.
“Oh, they are just darling,” she said. “Cameron is going to love, love, love them.”
Mel smiled. It was always gratifying to have a satisfied customer, but she was on information recon.
“So, have you lived in the Palms long?” she asked. Oz snorted and she coughed, covering up his noise.
“Yes, ever since my girls were born,” Mrs. Weston said. “We wanted a quality neighborhood for them to grow up in.”
“I can understand that, but isn’t there an awful lot of scandal in this neighborhood?” Mel asked. She tried to make her face a mask of innocent concern.
Mrs. Weston made a sour expression and she gave Mel an impatient look. “Are you asking about what that book said? It wasn’t true. None of it. I am very good friends with Mallory Cavendish and it’s all lies. Sordid lies made up by that awful woman Elise—”
“The woman who was murdered?”
Mrs. Weston huffed out a breath. “Yes, well, I am sorry that happened, but when you go around lying about people and making an entire neighborhood seem like trash when really it’s quite exclusive—only the best of the best get to live in the Palms, you know—bad things will happen.”
“So, you think one of your neighbors murdered Elise as revenge?” Mel asked. She blinked, hoping to appear naïve and not snarky.
“No, that’s not what I said,” Mrs. Weston protested.
“Actually, Mother, that’s exactly what you said.”
A young woman with the same tousled blond hair and lithe figure stepped out onto the patio. She looked very much like her mother, but while Mrs. Weston was working hard to fake her youth, Cameron had the glowing skin and robust health of an actual teen. Mel wondered how much this annoyed her mother.
“I did not, Cammie,” Mrs. Weston said. She frowned. “Aren’t you going to change into the cute little dress I bought you? It shows off your figure and is totes adorbs.”
Mel noticed then that Cammie was wearing baggy jeans, combat boots, and an oversized men’s shirt, all of which she suspected were chosen specifically to piss off her mother. Huh.
Cammie shrugged and said, “I like what I’m wearing now.”
Mrs. Weston closed her eyes for a moment, as if praying for patience. Cameron watched her and then wound her long hair into a knot that she deftly fastened on her head with a hairband she had around her wrist. Without makeup, she was still lovely but not the bombshell Mel was pretty sure her mother would have preferred.
“You are not greeting your guests like this,” Mrs. Weston hissed through her teeth.
“They’re not my guests,” Cameron said. “They’re yours.”
Oz kept his head down and continued loading the cupcakes as if there weren’t a mother-daughter squabble happening right in front of him. Mel took the box she was holding and joined him.
“Cammie, darling, we talked about this,” Mrs. Weston said.
“No, you talked, I tuned you out, and you did exactly what you wanted to do anyway,” Cameron said. “I’m not coming to this party.”
As if to taunt her mother further, she picked up a cupcake from the tower that Oz had filled and then bit into it, coating her lips with the pink-and-black icing. Mel saw Mrs. Weston’s fingers clench into fists. Her back was arched, her nostrils flared, and her lips were pressed into a tight line. Mel suspected it was taking every ounce of self-control she possessed not to lose her temper.
“Tina, I’d like a word with you.”
They all glanced at the door to the house to see a middle-aged woman, dressed more like a typical mom in capri pants and a plaid sleeveless blouse, striding towards them. It was clear from the way the heels of her sneakers battered the flagstone beneath her feet that she was furious.
“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Cameron said. She continued eating her cupcake, looking as if she was gearing up to enjoy the show.
“I’m sorry, Miranda, but I am very busy setting up for Cameron’s party,” Mrs. Weston said.
“Yes, Cameron’s party.” The woman called Miranda gestured at the decorations surrounding them. “About that, how could you not invite Rhiannon?”
“I don’t feel like this is the time to discuss this,” Tina said.
“Sure it is, Mom,” Cameron said. She licked a dollop of frosting off of her lips. “Do explain why Rhia, who is my oldest friend, wasn’t invited. I’m sure we’re all fascinated to hear the answer.”
Tina sent her daughter a killing glance. Then she cleared her throat and ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it in a practiced gesture.
“Fine,” she said. “Miranda, I am sure that you are aware that there is a certain social hierarchy at the school the girls attend and, frankly, Cammie is in one group and Rhia is in another. It didn’t seem appropriate to invite Rhia to the party. She’d just feel out of place. I was doing it for her, you know.”
“What she’s trying to say is that she’s spent a lot of time and energy and money making sure I hang out with the cool kids, but Rhia isn’t one of them,
