Ready or Not (22 page)

Hope looked around, honestly astonished at what she saw. This place was opulent in a way she hadn’t been prepared for. High ceilings, marble flooring, accessorized with what had to be antique furniture. “Are those actual marble columns?” she asked, pointing to the two round pillars on either side of the room.

“In fact, they are.”

Hope tried to imagine what it must have been like to grow up in a place like this and honestly had no clue how to even begin that fantasy. “And you grew up here? As a child?”

Mallory sipped her champagne, watching Hope in amusement. “I did. I know how odd that must seem. This place looks more like a train station than a New York City apartment. I get it.”

“It’s not odd. It’s you. I’m just trying to picture it. Where did you play?” she asked, remembering the forts she and Kara had constructed in their matchbox of a bedroom, or the basketball games in the streets she often watched until she was big enough to join in. But living in the city, in an apartment where half the place was breakable, didn’t exactly lend itself to that kind of free play.

“At the park occasionally. I also had a lot of lessons. Art, language, flute, so not a ton of downtime.”

Hope held up a hand. “Hold the phone. You play the flute?”

“I used to play the flute. Hello, Mrs. Masters,” Mallory said to an older woman passing their way. “But it’s a thing of the past.”

“I’ll need to hear a flute recital after this.”

Mallory shook her head, but the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “No. Not going to happen.”

“Can you play ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’?”

“We’re not having this conversation,” Mallory said, folding her arms.

“I’d like to request that one and possibly ‘She’ll Be Coming ’Round the Mountain.’ I’ll sing along. It’ll be magic.”

“You’re trouble.”

Hope raised a shoulder. “True. But I get the feeling you like trouble.”

“A recent occurrence apparently,” Mallory said in wide-eyed mystification. “Do you play anything?”

“I’m working on the strings of your heart,” she said dramatically.

Mallory covered her mouth. “That was possibly the worst come-on line in history.”

“Oh, I’ve got worse.”

“Please tell me that’s true.”

Hope gestured with her champagne glass to an older gentleman approaching an even older woman. “See that guy? He’s now saying to her, ‘are those your eyes or did diamonds just fall from the sky?’”

“That’s horrible. Truly bad.”

“But now she’s going home with him,” Hope explained. “It’s gonna be a hot night.”

Mallory covered her mouth to stifle the laughter. “We’re going to hell.”

“No, we’re not. But Mrs. Diamonds-For-Eyes over there is about to take a trip to heaven.” This pulled even more laughter as it turned out that stuffy parties actually had the potential to be a lot of fun.

“What’s this about heaven?” Hope turned as a slightly taller, slightly older version of Mallory approached.

“Chels!” Mallory said, pulling the other woman into a tight hug.

“Mallory Spencer in red. I love it,” the woman said.

Mallory scanned the room. “Where are my nieces and nephews?”

“Upstairs with a movie. I’m no fool. You can catch up with them this weekend. In the meantime, introduce me to your friend,” she said and turned expectantly to Hope.

“Hope, meet my sister, Chelsea. She picked out all of my clothes until I was eight.”

“When she refused to let anyone tell her what to do any longer.”

“Chelsea, meet Hope.”

“A pleasure,” Chelsea said, extending her hand. But her gaze lingered on Hope, as she seemed to try to make up her mind about something. “Did you two meet through friends?”

“Not entirely,” Hope said, glancing at Mallory.

“Business then,” Chelsea stated matter-of-factly.

Hope shook her head apologetically, and Mallory held up one finger. “Hope owns an establishment I’m rather fond of. I’m a patron of hers.”

“And what establishment is that?” Mallory’s mother said, rejoining the group. She turned to Chelsea in appreciation. “You’re getting more out of them than I did.”

Hope opened her mouth to answer, but Mallory beat her there. “Hope owns one of the hottest craft-cocktail bistros in New York.”

A craft-cocktail bistro sounded awesome. She should use that. “Mallory is being nice,” she said, leaning in. “I hope that description matches one day, but for now, the bar’s doing okay.”

Mallory’s mother smiled widely. “Another entrepreneur, like Mallory. Where did you go to school?”

“Oh,” Hope said. “I didn’t. I guess you could say I’m self-taught.”

The smile on the mother’s face didn’t budge. Hope got it. Lack of schooling wasn’t exactly a badge of honor for an accomplished family like this, but she was proud of what she’d managed on her own and wasn’t planning to apologize. To anyone. She was doing okay.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Chelsea said, a bit too emphatically. “School is not the route for everyone. That’s for sure.”

“Where did you go?” Hope asked Chelsea.

“Yale.”

She nodded. “Impressive.”

“Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should check on my children and see which one is tied up. It varies. Mother, I think Mrs. Barksdale’s attempting to flag you down. Don’t you dare agree to anything for that charity of hers. You have no time as it is.”

Mallory’s mother raised her eyebrows and regarded them. “My eldest daughter can be bossy. Enjoy yourselves, girls. Have some shrimp.”

“Let’s do brunch this week,” Chelsea said to Mallory, and then they were gone. If the exchange had unnerved Mallory, she sure didn’t show it. Cool as a cucumber over there.

“Thirty more minutes and we can sneak out,” Mallory said apologetically to Hope.

“We don’t have to do that. We can stay as long as you’d like.”

“What if I want us to sneak out?” And that’s when Hope understood that Mallory had other plans for them, and that meant thirty minutes couldn’t come fast enough.

“Other plans work for me too,” she said, quietly.

The sound of a spoon against a glass rang out across the room. “If I could be so bold as to have everyone’s attention,” Mallory’s father said from the top of the entryway steps. The room fell silent and all eyes turned to Mr. Spencer. “You’re here tonight for one very special reason, and that is to help me celebrate thirty-seven wonderful years with my wife, Marjorie. Thirty-eight years ago, I got down on my knee and asked the love of my life to be my bride. She made me the happiest man alive and said yes. Six children later, and I have never been more in love with you, my dear. I’m still the happiest man alive.” He raised his glass and the rest of the party followed suit. “You’re the reason for my smile tonight. Happy anniversary. To many more, my love.”

The toast was met with spirited applause, and Hope was surprised to see tears in Mallory’s eyes.

“I’m not a crier,” she told Hope. “I’m not. It’s just, he doesn’t get sentimental all that often, so when he does I just get a little—”

“It’s sweet,” Hope said and brushed a tear from Mallory’s cheek. “That was a fantastic speech. Your parents love each other very much.”

“Yeah,” Mallory said, smiling. “Sometimes I forget that in the midst of their extra-shiny veneer, but it’s real between them. Makes me wonder if I’ll ever have anything close to that.”

“Never say never,” Hope said sincerely.

“Mayday,” Mallory said, her eyes wide. “Brother number two is on his way over.”

“Number two?”

“Troy. But I prefer to number them.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Mallory,” the tall, dark, and handsome brother said.

Was everyone in this family good-looking? Screened first for genetic superiority? This guy looked like Prince Charming incarnate.

“Troy.”

“We haven’t seen you at the club.”

Mallory nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been working. Plus, I’m not really a fan of the club.”

He smirked. “You’re saying you don’t work out anymore?”

Wow, the guy made it sound like a cardinal sin.

“I do. I just choose to use a gym closer to where I live.”

“Suit yourself.” And with that, he was gone. No hello to Hope. No show of warmth to his sister. Not even a “see you later.” It had been a really odd exchange. Mallory, while put together and quite formal at first, seemed to come with a depth of character. But it was easy to see how growing up in a world of privilege could have the opposite effect. It just went to show Hope that it didn’t matter if you were raised rich or poor, you could still have total assholes in your family.

“I apologize for him,” Mallory said. “He probably had to go check his stock portfolio or something equally obnoxious.” She held up a sweeping hand in presentation. “So now you’ve met my brothers.”

“Well, just Troy.”

Mallory shook her head. “If you’ve met one, you’ve met them all. They’re the same person at varying heights. It’s kind of impressive if it didn’t also suck times three.”

Hope laughed. “That’s kind of severe.”

“You’d think, but no. I try to minimize interaction with them and stick to my sisters instead.”

Despite Troy being Troy, Mallory was enjoying herself more than she thought possible at a rubbing-elbows gathering. The difference turned out to be the company. It was fun to have someone to navigate the party with, trade whispers here and there.

After a good thirty minutes of small talk, introducing Hope to her parents’ friends and proclaiming the greatness of the party overall, Mallory felt she’d put in her time and could probably now sneak away without recrimination.

She turned to Hope. “Let me get my coat. Then you and I are headed to a real dinner.”

“Cheeseburgers?”

Mallory laughed. “I could do cheeseburgers.”

“And an old-fashioned.”

“That’s specific. I’m guessing you know a place?”

Hope passed her a look. “Of course I do. I know the best place.”

“Give me five minutes to impersonate a ninja and I’m yours.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Easy, tiger,” Mallory said, placing a hand on Hope’s arm, a touch that sent electricity moving all the way up her body. She steadied herself as the chemistry she had with Hope was beyond even sizzle variety. Shaking herself out of the Hope-induced haze she’d become overly familiar with, she set out on her coat mission. As Hope had not come with a coat herself, the mission was rather simplistic.

However, Mallory had details to tend to. She had learned that when sneaking out of a formal gathering early, it was best not to announce one’s sneaking. Surreptitious was the way to go. She also knew that the best way to bypass the formal coat-retrieval process, which called massive attention to the intended sneaking, was to secure one’s own coat from the coatroom via the connecting door to her father’s study. Ninja indeed, Mallory thought. She then proceeded to make it safely, and undetected, into the oak-adorned office her father used on days he prepared cases from home. She could pick up faint traces of tobacco from the pipe he smoked when he was feeling extra thoughtful. In fact, that sweet aroma took her right back to childhood. She flipped on the light and moved quickly through the space when—holy hell. There against the bookshelves stood her father and Janice, the receptionist from his office, sucking face. What’s worse, the buttons of her blouse were undone and his hand was snaked up the front of her shirt. Mallory closed her eyes to erase the image, but it hadn’t worked, because upon opening them, there they were.

“I apologize,” Mallory said calmly, holding up a cautionary hand. “I thought this room was empty.”

Her father and Janice stared at her, caught and clearly unprepared with any sort of explanation, but really what could they say? She retreated from the study, but at her own pace, as she tried to process what the image actually meant. Her father was screwing his secretary. That’s what that meant, right? And not only that, but he was doing so in their home, not a half hour after delivering a speech about how much he loved his wife. Mallory wasn’t sure, but that seemed unthinkably low. She had a knot in the center of her chest, and strangely, she felt thirsty, like there was sandpaper lining her throat.
Better to get out of here first. Find Hope. Leave the damn coat.

But, on second thought, no.

She’d done nothing wrong and was not sacrificing her favorite black trench with the soft pockets in the midst of a rainstorm because her entire perception of her young life had been shattered with one flick of a light switch at the wrong moment. Correction, the
right moment
, because that flick had illuminated more than just the room.

“Henry, my coat, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, Ms. Spencer.” And then quieter, “Is everything all right? You look a little pale.”

She shrugged, swallowing the truth and feeling heavier for it. “I’m fine, Henry, but thank you.” But she didn’t feel fine. Her face felt hot, her mind raced, and she wondered absently about what else in her life was a sham. The world felt wildly unsteady, and she placed a hand against the wall.

“Mallory, are you okay?” Hope asked, moving toward her. She nodded and presented her game-face smile, the one she used for killer client presentations. She could present remarkable calm when called upon.

“Just waiting on my coat and we’ll be on our way.”

“Ninja skills failed?”

“Something like that,” she said with a serenity she did not feel.

“Hey, I think we’re about to face some rain,” Hope said, glancing out the picture window on the back wall. Angry raindrops pelted the glass, and an ominous clap of thunder shook the room, causing guests to murmur. It was so ridiculously appropriate to the way she felt right now that Mallory almost laughed.

But she was contending with another sound, the ticking clock in the back of her head, as it was only a matter of time before her father resurfaced and either A, played debonair party host and pretended none of it ever happened or B, wanted to talk to her about what she’d just witnessed. Oh, and wouldn’t you know it, there he was. Her coat hadn’t been fast enough. Seriously, where was Henry? Her gaze moved to her father as he closed the door to the study, a bright smile on his face as he shook hands with the first guest he came to. Option A it was!
How exciting!
She felt a little sick.