The Devil in the Junior League by Linda Francis Lee

Author:Linda Francis Lee
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780312354978
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

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MANDI HUFF LIVED CLOSE TO MISTI, in a nice home in a nice neighborhood populated primarily by dual-income upwardly mobile types. The house was a two-story Mediterranean stucco with a terra-cotta tile roof and a nice-sized yard. A Suburban was parked in the circular drive lined with boxed green shrubbery.

Mandi herself answered the door looking very much like a Madame Alexander doll (so much for my hope that she’d be dressed in a little leopard spandex herself) with her brown hair curled under at the shoulders and held back with a brown velvet headband, her (1980s era) bangs making her look like she was twelve.

“Frede Ware,” our hostess said. “How good to see you.”

Her smile was a perfect quotient of kindness and welcome, but beneath the good manners, she gave my neighbor a once-over, raised a brow, then added, “And if it isn’t Nikki Grout.”

Hmmm.

“Please come in,” she said.

She led us into the living room where she had a tray of glasses already filled with sweet tea set out with a plate of cookies. I suspected she didn’t have a maid to serve us.

She chatted nonstop to me, about the last Boots and Belles Charity Ball, about the last General Meeting, about Wanda Mason’s new baby—all topics Nikki couldn’t contribute to. A good hostess always makes sure no guest is left out of the conversation.

Double hmmm.

I turned the chat toward the weather and other basic niceties. Nikki, always loud and talkative, couldn’t string two words together. She sat perfectly still, a smile frozen on her face, her ankles together and tucked as close to the sofa skirt as was possible, her hands clasped around her tea with such force that I could just make out the faint clink of ice trembling against the glass.

After ignoring Nikki for the first several minutes, Mandi suddenly turned to her overlooked guest, and said, “I’m guessing Frede brought you here because you want to join the League.”

Nikki was so surprised (not to mention flustered) that she jerked back, her tea sloshing over the rim of the glass, splashing on her clothes. But while St. John is tasteful, it isn’t particularly good at absorption, and the tea kept going, running down before anyone could do anything about it, spilling onto Mandi’s (very white) sofa, the brown stain looking like something that should have been left on a ranch.

“Fuck!”

Mandi froze and stared at Nikki who had slapped her hand over her mouth.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Nikki breathed.

But sorry wasn’t enough.

Before you could name the six flags that had flown over Texas, Nikki and I were on the front steps of the house, the door slammed firmly at our backs.

Nikki was frantic. “I’m sorry! So sorry! It’s just that you said no cussing, not even ‘freakin’,’ which as we both know is just a nice way of saying ‘fuck,’ and all I could do was think, No fucks! Then there it was.” She practically wilted under the wide blue sky that was already beginning to scorch.

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