Friends and Lies by R.E. Whaley

Author:R.E. Whaley [Whaley, R.E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult Fiction
Publisher: Finch Books
Published: 2016-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Mom’s friend’s horse farm is accessed from a quiet country road, and a big gate opens to let us inside.

Patricia Thompson is one of my mom’s newer friends she’s made while I’ve been at college. Her home has pastel-colored furniture. I stare at a painting of an old sailboat in the ocean. It looks like something a pirate would have captained. Mom mentioned Patricia’s a nautical artist, and I figure she must have painted it.

Patricia’s shorter than Mom, so she’s about my height, with short blonde hair, and a red-lipped mouth set in such a way that it appears as though she’s always smiling. I compliment her on her tan.

Mom reaches for my hand and squeezes it as a little reminder for me to behave well. There’s silence between the three of us. Mom breaks it with, “I’m sorry we’re so early.”

Patricia’s gold bracelets clink as she waves her off. “There’s no need to worry about a thing. You and Katherine—Kat, isn’t it?”

I nod.

Patricia smiles. “You and Kat make yourselves comfortable. George will be out any minute to fix you girls a drink.”

A tall man wearing a servant’s uniform hovers in the threshold. He says in a French accent, “Yes, madam?” She must be very well off to have her own servant.

Patricia points to us, seated on her antique couch upholstered in creamy pink. “Please get these lovely ladies whatever they would like to drink,” she says, turning to smile at us. Or maybe she’s not smiling, I can’t really tell. But who cares? She’s asking him to make me a drink!

Patricia excuses herself for a moment and George strolls over. “Good afternoon, ladies.”

Mom nods politely, but I say, “Good afternoon, George.”

He smiles at me. “What would you care for, ladies?” George must be pushing thirty but his accent is charming.

I hear Mom say, “I’ll have a Martini.” She pushes her foot into mine. “Kat?”

“I’ll have, um, wine?”

Mom raises her eyebrows at me. “Nice try.” She looks at George. “She’ll have a lemonade.”

He bows gracefully before retreating.

“It’s too bad David couldn’t make it,” Mom says. “I can’t imagine what it must be like for you two. With both of you studying so much, you must hardly ever get to see each other.”

“We don’t study all the time. We find plenty of time for other things.”

She looks away for a moment. “Like what?”

I cross my arms and slump into the couch. “It’s not important.”

“He’s coming to the funeral tomorrow?”

“Sure. I mean, he came all the way down here. We…”

Mom pats my hand. “That’s good.”

How am I ever going to tell her the truth about that night if she won’t even let me finish what I have to say?

George returns and presents our drinks to us on a sparkling silver tray. Mom’s face lights up, and I can tell she’s proud she has a friend like Patricia.

Patricia isn’t alone when she comes back. There’s a tall guy a little older than me with her. I notice his sneakers first—black and lime green—paired with a dark suit without a tie.

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