“Hey, Dad.” I sat across from his leather armchair on the settee, the stiff velvet chilly on the backs of my exposed thighs.
“Your mother’s in the kitchen,” he murmured, attention back on the paper. “Making some kind of noodles.”
“At least it’s not meatloaf,” I teased, reaching out to smooth my skirt over my knees. “How’s it going?”
He smiled as his eyes skimmed the headlines. “Not as great as you, hot shot. How’d the Lorelei go?”
“It was okay.” I wanted to tell him what I really thought but didn’t want to risk Mom overhearing.
“Just okay?” he pressed, setting the paper down on his khaki-clad lap. “Not life-changing? Incredible? Awe-inspiring?”
“Anything but.” I shrugged away the sudden rush of memories flooding through me, the disgust as fresh as before. “They’re a bunch of snobs. Nothing special.”
“Keely, they’re the Lorelei!” He was all but gaping at me with wide eyes, the tiny wrinkles around them vanishing.
“They’re no different than any of the other money-hungry monsters I’ve met.” Aside from their seemingly endless wealth. But monsters nonetheless.
“Honey, you can’t dislike someone just because they’re wealthy. You came from a well-to-do family. You’d be hating yourself.”
“It’s not the same,” I grumbled, stuffing down the urge to point out that I didn’t take a dime from them after moving out for college. I took care of myself the old-fashioned way. I had the student loans to prove it. “They flaunt their money.”
He studied me for a moment before flipping the paper to reveal the front-page headline: EVER’S LATEST SELLS FOR RECORD-BREAKING $123 million. “You had a front-row seat to history, Keely.”
I studied the image, spying Ethan and I in the swarm of attendees with his arm draped over my shoulders. It wasn’t like it was hard to spot us, our clothing tame compared to others, a feat since my metallic bronze dress seemed too flashy in the fitting room.
Dread clawed at my guts. “Mom saw that, I assume?”
He nodded with a sigh, glancing at the doorway to make sure the coast was clear. “And she’s upset. You told her you weren’t dating anyone, remember?”
“I’m not.” With nerves already on edge awaiting Ethan’s call, I wasn’t in the mood to talk about any of it.
His face sagged in disappointment at my response. “You two look awfully friendly there…”
If he thought that was friendly… I rolled my eyes, thoroughly done with the conversation. It was good to know I’d walked into a trap of a family dinner. “Well, we should. He is one of my best friends.”
Dad tossed the newspaper to the coffee table between us before leaning back in his chair. “Did you find out how he got tickets?”
“A friend didn’t want to go. Apparently he wasn’t a fan of the snobs. Unfortunately for us, we weren’t either.” I knew it had to sting to hear I’d infiltrated the exclusive crowd so easily while he and Mom had chased them for years to no avail. Not only that, I hated every second of something he no doubt would’ve loved.
“He mention his friend’s name?” he asked dryly, a slight smirk touching his lips.
“No. Why?” I couldn’t care less who it was. Or maybe I did. They owed us both a drink after letting us wander into snob central.
“I wonder if that friend is Ever,” Dad muttered as he looked back at the newspaper splayed across the table. “Reporters are all over the story. Some think Ever might have attended, since it was such a big reveal. Maybe they gave Ethan the tickets to throw off the trail.”
“I doubt it.” Ever was probably sitting pretty somewhere watching the frenzy from afar. If they were smart, they were.
“Did Ethan have a good time, at least? Or, are you both brats?” he teased.
“He hated it, too.” I wasn’t about to tell my father how much fun we’d had later in the evening.
“Kids these days,” he chuckled with a smile before flicking his head towards the kitchen. “Go say hi to your mother before she serves both our heads for dinner.”
I didn’t want to face the dragon, but I obeyed, going back into the floral-wallpapered foyer to walk down the long hall toward the back of the house, the same elaborate runner that had been there longer than me leading the way. Most things in the house were that way, as the Doyle Manor had been in the family for generations. One day it’d be my elder sister Bridget’s, the oldest child inheriting it, as per tradition. Fitting. At least she was a Doyle by birth.
As soon as my feet touched the brick floor of the kitchen, Mom whirled from her post at the farmhouse sink, halfway through a cigarette in front of an open window. She chucked the still-lit butt down the drain, desperately trying to hide the evidence. For some reason, she didn’t think people could smell the smoke on her, the telltale hints of tobacco lingering regardless of how much perfume she showered in.
“Hi, Mom.”
Her flawless face twisted in disgust as she swept a hand dramatically at me. “Oh Keely, when will you stop with those?”
“My dress?” I knew instantly what she was referring to, the patchwork piece a mix of pinks and blues. It wasn’t as formal as the tailored sheath she wore, but it was cute. To me at least. And it had pockets.
“Yes! Where did you get that rag?” Her blue eyes blazed, her feathered bangs almost shielding the left one entirely. “It looks like Nana’s curtains for crying out loud!”
I smiled at the comparison, as Nana’s curtains still hung in the dining room. They couldn’t have been that awful. The pattern was only a problem because I wore it. “A vintage shop with Lil.”
“Oh good god, it was preowned too?” she squawked, darting to grab a bag of salad mix from the fridge, the premade pack tucked between mountains of meal replacement shakes. “You could get crabs from that, Keely Eileen!”
“Crabs from what?” Bridget asked, my older sister coming into the
