16. Birdie

Confession: I hate cats.

"Hi, Anthea," I said, leaving Mom and Pam talking, and went to meet her where she stood by the pool. She looked absolutely adorable in a strapless white sundress that clung to her growing stomach. Her hair had clearly benefited from the pregnancy, as it fell in thick and lustrous auburn waves.

When I reached her, I gave her a hug. "You look beautiful."

She rolled her eyes. "Your mother told you to say that, didn't she?"

"Like she told you to call me Beatrice?" I quipped.

She winked. "I had to tease you a little bit, sister."

I shook my head. Anthea had a sharp wit about her that made me both like her and fear her a little bit. "How's the pregnancy going?"

"Terrible. Morning sickness every hour of the day. Swollen ankles. And all I want is a freaking vodka shot. Why did your mother think this cocktail party would be a good idea?"

"Hey, I'm not claiming her," I said. "Look at Doug."

She frowned. "I heard about Dax and your apartment. I'm so sorry. Are you sure you don't want to come stay with us?"

Fucking Mrs. Cronckle.

"It would be weird," I said. "And besides, you're about to have a new baby. You hardly need me in your way while you're preparing."

As though instinctively, she put her arms over her growing stomach. "You're using the baby as a cover. You just don't want to see your mom more than you have to."

"That too." I laughed. Right now, I really could have used that rum and Coke, but I looked toward the bar and saw Dad deep in conversation with one of his business associates. It would be hours before I got my drink—if he even remembered.

"You know," Anthea said, "Doug still loves you, even though you two went different directions."

I sighed. "I know." But he resented me too. While I went to college and shirked what our parents saw as a family obligation, Doug was being trained to take over my father's insurance company.

He didn't need to say it out loud for me to know he felt like I'd gotten a life of freedom while he was chained with golden handcuffs. He just didn't know that he could take them off. But I couldn't talk with his wife about that. "Let's talk about someone else."

"Someone?" Anthea asked.

Under her investigator-lamp gaze, my cheeks felt hot. "I meant something," I said quickly, shifting my gaze toward the pristine pool.

"Who's the guy?"

I would have said no one, if I weren't already smiling. I reached up and scratched my neck. "It's nothing, really. I met this guy, but I was a complete spaz and can't show my face in public ever again."

Now she was interested. "Who is it? Maybe I know him."

"Probably." I shrugged. "You know everyone."

"So..."

I narrowed my eyes but couldn't keep up the gaze for long without smiling. "Okay, promise if I tell you his name, you won't get involved?"

She crossed her finger over her chest. "Who?"

"Cohen Bardot? He owns that club on Watercrest."

Her mouth fell open. "Seriously? He is so hot."

My brother came up behind Anthea and wrapped his arms around her. "Who's hot?"

"No one," I said before Anthea could tell him. I gave her a look, asking her to keep it a secret.

"Some actor," she said. "How are you, babe?"

"Good. Need another mocktail?"

Anthea rolled her eyes toward the sky. "That's exactly what I need. Another Shirley Temple to make this heartburn even worse."

Doug cringed, and sensing the danger zone, changed the subject to me. "Sorry about Dax, sis." In the same breath, he added, "You know this guy just started at the firm that Mom wants to introduce you to. Maybe you two will hit it off?"

I frowned. "I think I'm swearing off men forever."

"In that case, perhaps the new CFO. She's pretty hot."

Anthea elbowed him in the gut.

Doug recoiled, rubbing his middle. "Well, maybe it's too late for the CFO. Look who Mom's bringing this way."

I looked over my shoulder to see Mom walking toward me with a stiff in a suit, and I turned back to beg Doug and Anthea to hide me.

Of course they were walking the other direction.

"Beatrice!" Mom said. "I'm happy I found you. I wanted to introduce you to Walter Walters."

Keep your face straight, Birdie. Keep your face straight.

"Hi there," he said, extending his hand.

His sweaty hand, I discovered as I shook it. He extended a rum and Coke, and I glared toward the bar at Dad. So he was in on the setup too. Now I knew why Mother was so adamant I come to the party.

Mom smiled between the two of us like we were the Sistine chapel and she was Michelangelo. "I'll let you two get to know each other."

She walked away, and I took a long drink of the rum and Coke. Strong, just like I needed.

Walter cleared his throat. "So, you teach?"

"I'm a guidance counselor."

"Oh."

I closed my eyes. Maybe if I couldn't see this awkward encounter it would cease to exist. But when I opened my eyes, there he was, thinning hairline and all. How old was he? Forty?

But then I remembered someone else who was older and realized age didn't matter at all. No, it was just Walter. We were a minute in and had about as much chemistry as water and oil.

"You work with my dad," I said.

"I'm an executive account director."

"Oh. Nice." I only knew what that meant from many boring family dinners. It was a position Dad gave people to test them before moving up to a higher position. They must really want me to marry this guy if he was doing that well in the company.

"What do you do for fun, Beatrice?"

"Actually, it's Birdie," I said. "I like to bird watch. Go to the beach."

He shuddered. "I hate sand. It gets everywhere."

"And I'm assuming you don't like birds either."

"Birds?" he said. "Have you ever seen the movie?"

I rolled my eyes so hard I could see my brain. I hated that movie. Gave birds a bad name. "And I'm assuming you like cats?"

"In fact, I am more of a cat person." He smiled like he'd passed some sort of a test. He couldn't have been more wrong.

"You know house cats have more than halved the bird population?"

"No, I—"

"Sorry, Walter, I'm not feeling well." I lifted my glass. "Thanks for the drink," I said and walked away, hoping the driver was ready to take me away from this place that never felt like home.