by Cassie James
Pearl tsks. “I’m afraid that’s your burden to bear as a Lexington.”
She smiles at me with as much warmth as she can muster, but she’s done with this conversation. I can see it in her face that she’s not planning to discuss it any further. She’s caught me up on what everyone else knows, maybe those are all the answers she has. That’s what I want to believe, but deep down I think I already know that I’ll never get all the answers from her. That night I came home drunk, she chose the family mystery over me. She could have protected me from Ace but she made a choice. When it comes down to me or the Lexington treasure—it’s not me she’s going to choose.
“Sadie asked me to come over. I’ll be back later.” I don’t offer up more than that, because I’m not sure Pearl cares that much when I come or go as long as I do come back eventually. I mention Sadie specifically only because I’m testing my theory. Pearl might have a grudge against the Harrington name, but I’m looking for any hint that she thinks Sadie should be lumped in with those worried about my presence here.
Pearl crosses her arms. “You’re going to Harrington Estate?” She looks none too pleased by that. “Say hello to Celia for me.” The words are right, but the tone is wrong. One thing is for sure: she doesn’t want me to say hello to Celia because they’re friends. I don’t have the heart to tell her I don’t even know who Celia is.
I text Sadie to let her know I’m coming. She didn’t actually invite me, but I’m hoping she’ll be okay with it. After Smith mentioned her drinking last night, I want to check on her. I’m also starting to feel a little weird that I’ve never stepped even one foot into her house. In fact, the only house I’ve seen the inside of in Patience is my own. That doesn’t seem normal. I see Jax coming and going from the Harringtons’ place all the time. I also distinctly remember hearing Kathryn and Cece rambling about doing things at each other’s houses. They’re not quiet when they talk in front of me in History.
I walk back through the house instead of hiking all the way around the side yard. By the time I’m walking up the Harrington’s driveway, Sadie still hasn’t texted me back. I’m about to turn back and go back home when the front door opens and Smith glances back over his shoulder as he steps out.
“Hey.” He doesn’t look surprised to see me.
I wave—and quickly put my hand down because I feel stupid. “Hey. I texted Sadie about hanging out but she didn’t message me back. Is she around?” I honestly have no idea what she does in her free time when we’re not together. She’s always so cryptic about it when I try to ask.
He nods his head slowly. “She’s home, but she’s in the middle of something. She said she was almost done and told me to tell you that you can come in and wait if you want.” I consider saying no now that I’m here and the reality of walking into a strange mansion settles in. I don’t know how to act in someone else’s mansion. I don’t even know how to act in my own—and I’m mostly unsupervised and left alone there. “We don’t bite,” he reassures me, except he says it more like it’s something he absolutely would like to do.
“I could come back later.” I could always go home and call Jake instead of waiting around here for who knows how long. I’m kind of worried if I come in that Smith’s just going to abandon me in a room by myself and that I’m going to have to awkwardly sit on some stiff sofa not touching anything.
“Come on, scaredy-cat, it’s just a house.” He beckons me forward with his fingers, and before I realize what I’m doing my feet are propelling me towards him. When I get close, he grabs my hand, and even when I try to pull away he doesn’t let go. He grins. “It’s just a hand.” God, he’s really pushing it.
Still, I let him lead me into his house for the first time. The inside isn’t quite as scary as I imagined it. While the Lexington Estate is all about the traditional, this place is much more contemporary. Just another reason for Pearl to disapprove of them, I’m sure. The bright white walls of the entryway make the house look huge, but it’s the photo on the wall that really catches my eye. It’s the Harringtons, but like ten years younger. There’s no mistaking that blonde hair or the blue eyes. I assume it’s their parents in the picture with them. Their mother has the same blonde hair and blue eyes as her kids. Their father is blonde, too, but more of a dirty blonde.
“None of you are smiling.” I’ve never seen a family photo quite as grim as this one. They look miserable together, and they’re all standing so straight it looks more like a military photo than a personal one. There’s no physical contact. No spark in anyone’s eyes. It gets creepier and creepier the longer I look at it.
Smith squeezes my hand so tight I wince. “Were you smiling in all your childhood pictures?” He sounds so accusatory about it, like it will be a personal affront to him if I looked happy as a kid.
“I don’t have any childhood photos.” I never thought I’d be willingly telling anyone this story, but here I am. “My parents—the ones that raised me, not the biological ones—they were high one time while our power was turned off in the middle of winter. They decided to burn everything they could get their hands on in our fireplace. Only, we didn’t have a fireplace, so they used our washing machine instead. I had to hand-wash all my clothes for six months before my friend Jake’s mom started letting me bring my clothes over to their house to wash. The only pictures of me are from when I was a baby, before my real parents…” I’m pretty sure I don’t need to finish that sentence.
I can feel Smith’s eyes on the side of my face but I keep my own eyes on their picture. I don’t want to see him pitying me. We’re still holding hands, though, and he gives mine another squeeze. It’s a nice gesture. I’m learning Smith is fully capable of making those when he wants to.
“Let’s go sit in the kitchen,” Smith suggests. “There’s no embarrassing family photos in there.” I get a good laugh out of that. I’ve never met anyone my age that wasn’t embarrassed by old childhood photos. I’m sure I’d be the same if I actually had any. As it is, the only pictures of me that I have access to are the few that Pearl has of me as a baby.
Smith leads me into their kitchen, laughing at me when I see the French doors leading to the back of the house and do a double-take. They’ve got the biggest pool I’ve ever seen, complete with it’s own waterfall and everything. It looks like something out of a magazine and I’m instantly jealous. Pearl’s place doesn’t have a pool, much to my disappointment. I pull away from Smith to get a closer look. He lets me take my hand back but still sticks close to me. We stand side-by-side as I admire the way the water sparkles in the early afternoon sunlight.
“It’s heated. Feel free to come swim anytime.” Smith gives me a long once-over. “You won’t hear me complaining about seeing you in a bikini.”
Way to make that weird. “I’ll be sure to wear a whole wetsuit if I ever decide to take you up on that offer.” He raises his eyebrows and grins like he’s imagining it. Damn him. I bump him with my shoulder, which comes off far more flirty than I meant for it to. That only makes his grin widen. I hate that I’m not more immune to him. He really knows how to turn up the charm when he wants to. Which seems to be happening more and more these days. I’ve been enjoying it more than I care to admit, but I do look at it now with a higher degree of suspicion. What are the chances he’s only trying to get close to me as a means of getting access to Hollis’ hidden fortune? The more I think about it, the more desperate I am to ask.
“What’s that look for?” Smith runs his index finger over the skin between eyebrows, smoothing out the wrinkling from my down-turned eyebrows. I’m so surprised by the gesture that the muscles in my face do relax a little.
“I’m just wondering if you’re only playing nice because you want something from me.” For a second, his grins goes downright naughty. Which is, uh, not what I meant. “Like an excuse to get close to Hollis’ secret.” I keep it purposely vague, curious to see how much he’ll give away himself.
Smith shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “
You know about that?” He doesn’t seem over-the-top surprised, but he doesn’t look happy about it either. I’m sure he realizes me finding out was inevitable. “You should stay out of it.” Well, that wasn’t the sort of answer I was looking for. I can’t help but think he sounds an awful lot like Pearl warning me to stay out of it, too.
“What if I don’t?” No one here has any shortage of money or other valuable material things. I understand the draw. It’s not about the treasure itself, it’s about being the one to say you found it. And now that I know about it, I feel the same draw to solve the mystery my grandfather bestowed upon this town.
“You’re playing with fire, Princess.” His lips, so full any other time, are pressed in a thin line. I’m not sure if it’s from worry or anger, but it’s obvious that he’s not pleased. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to say the wrong thing to the wrong person, and this new life you’ve been handed is going to come crumbling down around you.” He rubs the back of his neck—his nervous habit.
“That sounds like a threat.” My mouth feels so dry I almost can’t get the words out.
Smith shakes his head. “I’m not threatening you.” His expression softens just slightly, not enough for me to let my guard down. “But there are plenty of people who will. We’re the third generation to be caught up in Old Man Lexington’s game. This is bigger than you could possibly understand, and that should be reason enough for you to stay out of it before you end up hurt.” I cross my arms over my chest. I’m not sure how he can expect me to heed his warning when it’s coming from someone clearly with their own agenda. Sadie might not be interested in my family treasure, but Smith sure as hell is. He shakes his head at me like I’m being an unruly child. “I’ve got to go. Sadie should be down soon.”
I open my mouth to protest but he’s too quick. I can feel my heart sink as I take in the quiet of the now empty room. What are the chances Smith doesn’t tell anyone that I know? I’d guess slim to none, considering how fast he raced out of here. I can only hope that doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.
“Juliet, what a surprise.” Mother Harrington steps into the room. “Were we expecting you?” She straightens the sleeves on her blouse, clearly disinterested in me despite her show of manners. Now that I’m seeing her up close in real life, I remember meeting her briefly at my welcome party. I don’t remember getting her name then, but I’m guessing she’s Celia.
“Smith invited me in. I’m just waiting for Sadie.” She doesn’t even look at me as I explain. She offers a tight smile and looks down at the fancy watch she’s wearing.
“I’m sure she’ll be down soon. Can I offer you anything to drink? Our housekeeper usually attends to guests but I’m afraid she’s out at the moment.” Celia finally looks at me, but only to offer up an inconvenienced look at the thought that she might have to get me something to drink all by herself. Oh, how scandalous. It’s tempting to ask for something just to see her have to lower herself to the standards of us normal people.
I probably shouldn’t push my luck. “I’m fine, thank you,” I say instead. I can’t believe this is really their mom. Sadie and Smith are both relatively normal rich kids; I would never have guessed their mom would come off so pretentious. She’s stiff and wearing what has to be a small fortune in jewelry, so I feel like I know everything I need to know about her already. “Pearl told me to tell you hello, by the way.”
Celia scoffs, then catches herself. “Yes, I’m sure she did. Tell her hello for me.” I might be imagining it, but I think Celia rolls her eyes as she turns away. She glides across the room to a cabinet built into the wall, and I watch silently as she takes a bottle of vodka and a full-sized glass out and pours herself a tall drink. “I’ll remind Sadie that you’re waiting,” she tells me as she walks out, leaving me alone again in the kitchen. I nearly gag as I picture her drinking a glass that tall of pure vodka by itself. If Sadie really is an alcoholic like Kathryn and Cece said, then it’s clear she comes by it honestly.
I can’t help feeling sorry for Sadie and Smith. I know what it’s like growing up with addict parents, and if I had to guess, now that I’ve met Celia I think they do, too. It’s no wonder I get along so well with Sadie. We’re like two sides of the same coin—only her side is super rich and mine was hella poor. But otherwise, yeah, totally the same. An addict is still an addict no matter how many diamonds she dresses herself in.
A few minutes later, Sadie finally makes her appearance. She smiles when she sees me, but I don’t miss how puffy her eyes are, like she’s been crying. I don’t know what she was doing while I was waiting, but it doesn’t seem like she was very happy doing it. “I’m so glad you’re here! I felt so bad that I couldn’t ride with Smith to pick you up. He said Brent’s dad walked you out. Was he hitting on you? I think he’s a total DILF, but I’m sure it was super weird right? He does have a great yacht.” Sadie’s talking a mile a minute and I catch myself looking for signs that she’s on something harder than alcohol. “Sorry, I’m always a little—” she waves her hands around— “whatever when the therapist comes. The lady’s a total emotional drill sergeant, but my parents insist on it. Anyway, what’s up with you?”
I have to take a deep breath, winded just from listening to her. “I just wanted to hangout but if you’re busy, I can go.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, mi casa is your casa. Let’s go up to my room.” Sadie loops her arm in mine to take me upstairs. She doesn’t show me the rest of the house which is fine, but I can’t help but wonder if she knows her mom’s around here somewhere probably half-drunk already. We end up hanging out for hours, and to my great relief Sadie never takes a single drink.
Chapter 14
Having a theory about why I’m being treated like crap doesn’t do anything to keep it from continuing to happen. The rest of September passes in a blur of snide comments and me avoiding the assholes as much as I can. October comes and goes, too. Every day Jake texts me asking if things have gotten better, and every day my answer is the same. Things don’t get better—but they also don’t get worse. Now that I know the likely root of the problem, it’s easier to let more of the bullshit roll off my back.
The only asshole that seems to pop up more the more I try to ignore him is Smith. Pearl made good on her offer to buy me a car, buying me an SUV that’s still expensive but lacks that flashy quality that always makes me cringe when I see my classmates’ cars. Teenage drivers don’t need cars with a price tag the size of a down payment on a house. Seriously, I watch some of my classmates go through cars faster than I go through a box of tampons. Once I started driving myself to school, Sadie started riding with me instead of Smith. He didn’t complain, but he did start showing up at my locker every chance he got. Some days it’s fine, but more often than not he still finds some way to remind me what an asshole he’s been since I met him. I just start to become desensitized to that like everything else.
I have no choice but to accept the fact that I start to fit in. The people who were assholes might stay assholes, but the impartial people slowly start to warm up to me. I wouldn’t call any of them friends, but I stop feeling like the poor kid with the plague.
It’s a Friday when I have to meet with Jax yet again about our history project, so Sadie skips out on riding to school together. We’ve made barely any progress on our project, but we’ve finally at least settled on a topic. The Civil War. It’s basically the most obvious choice there is, but no one else had signed up for it so I guess being too obvious worked to our advantage. We’re about halfway through the semester, and we’ve spent so much time arguing that we’re way behind compared to the other groups.
When I walk into the school building, the first person I see is Dr. Peterson. He perks up when he sees me come in. It looked like he was headed for the main office, but he changes direction to intercept me. I somehow manage to hold back my groan. Ever since my chat with Brock Forrester, I’ve had my suspicions about Peterson. Too many of his questions seem geared towards getti
ng me to talk about Lexington Estate. That, plus Jax’s warning, I don’t trust the man at all and I’ve been doing a pretty good job of avoiding him.
“Miss Lexington, you’re here early.” He steps in front of me, forcing me to come to a dead stop in the middle of the hallway. I was already running behind and now he’s going to make me late. “Why don’t we step into my office for a few minutes. I’d like to check in with you again.”
My eyes dart to the clock on the wall next to us. I don’t actually need to see the time to know I need to get moving, but I’m hoping it will help sell Peterson on leaving me alone. “I’m actually here to work on a project. And everything’s good, really, I don’t really have anything to talk about.” I know for a fact I don’t imagine the disappointment on his face when I tell him that. He nods slowly, like he’s trying to buy himself time to come up with some other way to trap me. “See you around!” I force out cheerfully as I dodge around him before he can come up with something.
I find my way to the row of study suites that line the hallway outside the library. Students have to reserve them, and Jax told me to meet him in the one at the end of the hall. I take a deep breath before I turn the handle, preparing myself for whatever battle is about to ensue. Jax and I are like oil and water together.
“Sorry I’m late, Peterson tried to stop me on my way in.” Jax and Patrick both turn to look at me. “Oh, hi.” I didn’t expect Patrick to be here. He usually steers clear of me, outside of lunchtime when it’s unavoidable since we sit with the same group. Even then, he usually sits at the opposite side of the table and avoids joining in any conversation that involves me. On the rare occasion he does, it’s usually to find some underhanded way to insult me. It’s like he never gets tired of that. I’ve been taking the high road and trying to kill him with kindness. I mean, it doesn’t seem to be working, but I keep trying.