Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
She waves her hand, as though to dismiss any concern. “All good things, don’t you worry, Dr. Dane.”
“Just Dane is fine,” he assures her.
I’m staring at them like they’re both alien creatures. They’re so natural together, their genteel exchange perfectly polite and impeccably charming.
“Abby.” My father’s voice is gruffer on my name than my mother’s. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
He steps up beside her, joining our nightmarish little circle.
And, oh god, my Uncle Jeffrey is here too.
“What a happy occasion to see your daughter,” Dane says, all warmth despite the fact that it’s almost a command. As though he can will my family to be happy to see me.
“Oh yeah, it’s always a pleasure to see our little Abby.” Uncle Jeffrey grins at me, and I suppress a cringe.
Dane angles his body slightly in front of mine. “I’m sorry, we haven’t met.” He extends his hand toward my uncle. “I’m Dane Graham.”
“Jeffrey Carpenter,” he replies, squeezing Dane’s hand in his usual macho style. “I’m Peggy’s brother.” He tips his head in my mom’s direction. “But I’m more like a second father to little Abby, if you don’t mind me saying.” He glances at my dad, who nods absently. “We all spent a lot of time together when she was growing up. I live at Elysium with the family.”
“Elysium?” Dane asks, managing to sound almost bored with a single, drawled word.
My mother’s chest swells with pride. “Our plantation. It’s just down the road, Dr. Dane. You’ll have to come visit us sometime.”
“I’ll have to see what works for Abigail,” he equivocates. “We’re very busy in Charleston at the moment.”
“Oh?” Mama’s eyes fix on me, a shark sensing blood in the water. For two years, I’ve denied her any information about my life. Now, she’s going to find some way to hurt me, a piece of information she can weaponize to punish me for my defiance. “What have you been so busy with, honey? Did you open that gallery yet?”
I try to ignore the stinging slash to my heart.
One of my final retorts to her was that I didn’t need her money, and I’d find a way to open my own gallery one day.
Instead, I have a stall at the market and sell my paintings to tourists.
I lift my chin. “Not yet.”
“Well,” she says, all saccharine sweetness. “Let us know when you do. We’d love to attend the grand opening. You know how much your father loves your art.”
I hate the tiny spark of hope that pings in my chest when I turn my gaze on my distant father.
Then I take in his slack, bored expression and the way his eyes are drifting toward the mint julep table.
My chest feels like it’s caving in, but I keep my shoulders straight through sheer force of will.
He’s never cared about my art. He only cares about how my success reflects on the family.
And now, he cares about getting a cocktail more than he wants to reconnect with me.
“Excuse me,” he says. “I need a refreshment.”
He doesn’t wait for anyone to reply before he ambles off to get a mint julep.
“What have you been up to, Abby?” Uncle Jeffrey asks. “We sure have missed having you at the house.”
“Abigail has been busy with her art,” Dane says, sparing me the burden of a falsely cheery reply. “Her landscapes are stunning.”
“Oh yes, our Abby is very talented,” my mother says, and it almost sounds as though she means it.
Which makes it hurt so much more that I know she doesn’t give a shit.
“But I’m sure you must be very busy too,” she says to Dane. “I hear your practice is doing very well. I might have to come in for a treatment.” Her judgmental gaze rakes over my face again. “We could go in together, Abby. A mother/daughter day. I’m sure Dr. Dane could remove that freckle in no time.”
“Abigail is perfect just as she is.”
I stare at Dane. His voice has gone ice cold, and he’s looking at my mother like she’s a fruit fly he’s found in his drink: insignificant but disgusting.
My mother takes a step back, and a beat of terrible silence passes before her high-pitched giggle grates down my spine.
“Aren’t you the charmer?” she gushes. “Hold on to this one, Abby. You don’t know when another man will come along who feels the same way.”
“There won’t be any other men in her life.” Dane says it like a matter of cold, hard fact. “Excuse us.”
His hand settles at the small of my back, and he steers me away from the awful scene. I lean into him, unashamed that I’m seeking his support in the wake of the painfully polite altercation.
Abigail is perfect just as she is.
The memory of his fervent declaration warms my heart, chasing away some of the chill that frosts my skin despite the warm day.