Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
The glance feels like an evaluation, but I must pass muster because he looks away without commenting.
Tor drops onto the loveseat and spreads out, draping an arm over the back so that when I take my seat next to him, his arm is already around me.
Myra smiles back at her husband. The glint in her eye makes me think she must really love him. “Honey, isn’t her dress pretty?”
“Yes,” he murmurs, though he manages to sound unimpressed while agreeing with his wife’s compliment. His gaze finds me again, and he says with a certain flatness, “Lovely.”
Myra ignores the trace of sarcasm if she hears it, nodding and looking over at us as if he gave a rave review.
I realize immediately that she’s trying too hard. Tor must have told her to be nice to me. He said he would, but from my own experience with my mother, I never expected she’d listen so well.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Myra says. “We have a delicious meal being prepared. We’ll head to the dining room in just a minute. Would anyone like a pre-dinner drink?”
My eyebrows rise as she goes to a sideboard and fetches a crystal glass like the one her husband is already holding, then fills it with ice.
Apparently, Stepford night is tonight in the Walters household.
Clearing my throat, I finally say, “I’m okay, thank you.”
As soon as the words are out, I realize I’m parched, but surely, there will be water at the dinner table. Myra fixes a drink anyway, then brings it over to Tor. He didn’t say he wanted anything, but I guess she knows what he likes. He is her son, after all.
“Thanks,” Tor says, then takes a sip.
Maybe he can feel my thirst—or the heat from my body—because as soon as he takes a sip, he passes the glass to me.
“Thank you,” I whisper, then take a tiny sip.
I’m unprepared for the bite of alcohol and nearly choke as it burns down my throat, then I regret everything because now they’re all looking at me.
“Sorry,” I say awkwardly, passing the cup back to Tor. “I thought it was water.”
“I can’t handle that stuff either,” Myra says congenially. “It’s much too strong.”
I never thought so when we were in court together, but looking at her in this setting, in that dress, with that lipstick and that hairstyle, I realize Myra reminds me of Snow White.
As soon as that clicks, her happy hostess act feels a little less forced.
She might be a Disney princess, but she must have been drugged and kidnapped by the crafty villain of her story, because Carson Walters is most assuredly not a prince.
She looks at him like he is one, though.
Tor’s words about his dad being her full-time job resurface, and even though I’ve only seen them in this setting for a few minutes, I think I finally get what he meant. I had no frame of reference for it. I’ve never seen real people living in roles like these, but I do feel a little like this house exists in a different world from the one that starts at the other end of Evergreen Lane.
CHAPTER 35
CASSIE
Myra carries the conversation without much help for a few minutes, then she says it’s time for dinner. Carson leads the way with her right on his heels, absently catching his hand as they walk, the same way Tor catches mine.
Tessa follows, staying closer to us. She glances between us, maybe faintly curious, but she doesn’t say anything as we all walk to the formal dining room. It’s like a funeral procession, and frankly, just as joyful.
Myra’s pleasant smile falters when we enter the dining room, and her gaze lands on the table.
The table has seats for six, but only five places have been set. My stomach sinks when I look at the empty chair, highlighting Tim’s absence.
Carson moves past it and takes his seat at the head of the table. Myra sits to her husband’s left, right next to her daughter, and I sit across from Tessa with Tor next to me.
“Tor tells me you had a lovely time in New York,” Myra says, glancing at me across the table as Paula comes around, filling clear glasses with ice water.
“Oh yes,” I say, offering a tentative smile. “It was amazing.”
“What did you do?” she asks, opening a white linen napkin and laying it across her lap.
“We did some shopping—lots of shopping—and saw a Broadway show. The Great Gatsby. We loved it,” I say, glancing over at Tor, who nods his agreement.
“Oh, we haven’t seen that one,” she says, looking at her husband. “We’ll have to go soon.”
“I saw Six in London,” Tessa announces. “I went with a few girlfriends. Definitely worth seeing.”
“Tessa is studying in Paris,” Myra tells me, “but travel in Europe is so different. They pop over to London whenever they want. Have you been?”