The Guests on South Battery (Tradd Street #5)(67)
“I hope you’re not monopolizing our hostess,” she said, squeezing his arm in either affection or warning, I wasn’t sure.
“Not at all,” I said. “We were just discussing the merits of history and old houses and their places in our lives. Not to mention the costs associated with renovating a historic house. Trust me, I could write a book, but it would have to be shelved with the horror novels.” I’d said it as a joke, but neither one of them laughed.
“Melanie has agreed to help us with Adrienne’s case.”
Michael pulled away. “I thought you said you were consulting a psychic medium.” He looked at me suspiciously.
I sent Veronica a look of warning. “Actually, she consulted with my mother. I happened to be there at the time.”
“Yes, well, just for the record, I don’t believe in that mumbo jumbo. If you don’t mind, the less said about it in front of my daughter would be greatly appreciated.”
“You are certainly not alone in that assessment,” I said, thinking of my own father. “And I have no intention of dragging Lindsey into any sort of paranormal investigation my mother may be doing.”
Veronica frowned at me but didn’t say anything.
“Please tell me you don’t believe in that stuff, too?” he asked, his voice wavering with a tinge of belligerence.
“Let’s just say I prefer to keep an open mind.”
He shook his head. “Even if by coincidence something did turn up because of what a psychic medium said, that stuff’s not admissible in a court of law, right?”
“I’m not sure how it works in the legal system, but evidence is still evidence.”
“But there isn’t any,” he said through gritted teeth, and I stepped back, wondering when the conversation had gotten so out of hand.
Veronica must have thought the same thing, because she pulled on his arm. “I’m sure Melanie has heard more than enough of our issues, Michael. Let’s allow her to mingle with her other guests.”
I watched them walk away and saw Veronica shoot me a questioning glance over her shoulder.
I joined Jack in a group with Cooper and his parents. I was relieved that the conversation wasn’t about blood-alcohol levels or the importance of safe sex—not that Jack would be a role model for either topic—but on the much safer subject of golf. Apparently, both Cecily and Cal were avid golfers, as were their children. When Cal suggested I make up a foursome on Sunday, I saw the horror in Jack’s eyes. I had the coordination and athletic grace of a bear and had nearly permanently blinded and crippled Jack on our first—and only—visit to the driving range.
“I don’t play,” I said, hoping to end the conversation.
“Nola said that Jayne is a pretty good golfer,” Cooper interjected. “She apparently used to work for a golf pro and she taught Jayne how to play. Her employer said she was a natural and that if Jayne devoted herself to golf, she could be giving the other pros a run for their money.”
Cecily laughed and took a sip of her wine. “Well, now I’m intrigued. I’m not a bad golfer myself and would like to know how I measure up.” She faced me. “I’m sure the nanny gets days off. You wouldn’t mind her taking your spot, would you, Melanie?”
I thought my cheeks would crack from holding my frozen smile in place. “Wow, of course not—that sounds like so much fun! I’d be happy to watch the children so she could go golfing with my husband.”
Jack sent me an odd look.
“I meant my husband and friends. I mean, what’s wrong with that?” I was starting to sound like Jayne, so I took a sip from my own wineglass just so I couldn’t speak anymore.
Cooper looked at his watch. “Excuse us, but I think it’s time to head out.”
The girls ran upstairs to refresh their makeup and giggle, then returned to gather their evening bags and wraps. I surreptitiously checked Nola’s bag to make sure her father hadn’t sneaked in a small can of Mace, and handed it to her.
We ushered the young adults out onto the piazza and forced them all to stand in a group so I could get one picture that wasn’t a selfie. As they headed out to the street, where the limo waited, Nola hung back. Giving her a hug, I said, “You look beautiful. Have fun tonight.”
“I will. Just please tell Dad to chill out. He kept giving those looks to Cooper all night. I’m afraid he won’t even dance with me now. I mean, Dad should trust me. Especially because I have never given him a reason not to.”
I glanced back at Jack, who stood on the piazza at the railing and was nursing another Coke on the rocks. He was doing a great impression of a vulture hovering over an unlucky roadkill victim that wasn’t quite dead. “I will, and I know. Just please understand that you’re his daughter, and he’s being protective because he adores you. And I know Sarah appreciates you smoothing the way for her.” I squeezed her again and gave her a light peck on the cheek.
She smiled, then sent another uncertain look behind her. “You don’t think he’ll be waiting on the porch when we get back, do you?”
“Of course not,” I said, not completely sure how I’d keep him inside. Maybe I could slip Benadryl into his Coke and knock him out.
Cooper held out his arm to Nola and she took it, allowing him to escort her down the piazza steps into the garden. A cool breeze swept from around the fountain, gently moving her hair and dress, and bringing with it the scent of roses that were at least a month away from blooming.