Golden in Death(76)

“Not to screw up my entire life,” she said as Peabody came back. “I was doing a good job of it up until then.”

Peabody picked up the dog, sat, ruffled white fur.

“She likes you.”

“It’s mutual.”

“How were you screwing up your life?” Eve asked.

“Bad choices, bad behavior, illegals, drinking, doing whatever I could to make those less popular suffer. I just reveled in being mean, spiteful, disruptive, destructive. I had rich parents, friends who had rich parents, and we got away with—I was going to say murder. We didn’t actually kill anyone, but we hurt plenty. When Dr. Rufty took over, it was come to Jesus.”

“You resented it?”

“At the time? You bet I did. And my parents. I’d been able to get away with that metaphorical murder because they didn’t know. My grades stayed reasonable—better than, as I pressured smarter kids to do the work. They thought my boyfriend at the time was great. Because he knew how to play the game. We all did.”

“Headmaster Grange knew about your behavior?”

“Sure she did. And why should I have changed it when there were no consequences? Then she left, Dr. Rufty came in. And boy, there were consequences.”

“Such as?”

“Detention, suspension—no more grading on a curve that had anything to do with how much my parents donated. In any case, once he had a conference with my parents, the hammer came down. I could straighten up, stay out of trouble, or I could be shipped off to a pri vate girls’ school in England. I hurt them, my parents, when they were going through a hard time of their own. Maybe because they were. Anyway, the mask got ripped off, and they saw I’d been a liar and a cheat, a bully and a brat. I was basically under house arrest for the rest of the year.”

She stared into her glass. “God, I haven’t thought of all that for so long. It’s like another lifetime. I just don’t know how that lifetime has anything to do with Dr. Rufty’s husband.”

“Do you remember Jay Duran?”

“I don’t think so.”

“He taught language arts,” Peabody put in. “You had him in your junior and senior years.”

“Oh, Mr. Duran—I don’t think I ever knew his first name. Yes, I remember him, mostly because his were the only classes I actually liked.” She added a quick, self-deprecating smile. “Of course, I couldn’t let on I enjoyed them, got anything out of them, or I’d lose face. What happened?”

“His wife was murdered.”

Her eyes, direct on Eve’s, radiated distress, and bafflement. “I don’t understand. I just don’t understand. It’s awful, it’s terrible, but I don’t understand.”

“We’re pursuing a line of inquiry. Who do you know from the transition period—Grange to Rufty—who would have carried a grudge for those consequences you spoke of?”

“God, probably half the school. No, not that much,” she corrected. “But plenty. Not just students, but some of the teachers, too, and plenty of the parents, I think. He changed the status quo—do you know what I mean?”

“Yes.”

“We were used to having our way, and that stopped. A lot of the upperclassmen planned to go on to Ivy Leagues, and Rufty’s Rules— that’s what we called them—could have screwed with that. They probably did for some, I don’t know. Most of my group shattered—parents took their kids out, or did like mine and put the chains on.”

“Do you, or did you, keep in touch with that group?”

“From school?” Kendel let out a short laugh. “No. At first because I couldn’t. My parents took my ’link—can you imagine the horror of being a teenage girl without access to a ’link? It was hell. And they blocked communication from all my devices. Schoolwork only—which they checked. Constantly. I hated it, hated them. But I toed the line because they weren’t bluffing about that boarding school. I’ve never seen my father so angry, or my mother so horrified. Not before, not since.”

“After you got communication access again?”

“By then, I was done with it. I didn’t like school—I was never a great student—but I liked the peace. I liked not having to constantly think of something outrageous to do. I liked getting a decent grade on a project I’d actually done myself.”

Pausing, she studied her lemonade. “I owe my parents for that, and Dr. Rufty, and teachers like Mr. Duran. Second chances,” she said, looking back at Eve before she looked around her pretty yard.

“I’m here because of them. Do you know what I mean when a situation or a time can feel like the end of your world, then somehow becomes the making of it, and you?”

“Yeah.” Eve nodded. “I do. What did you do after you graduated?”

“I went off to college. I can’t say I shined there, but it was a clean slate. I promised my parents I’d give it two years, and I did. Then I came home, started doing what I realized I really wanted to do. Work with my mom on the business. I’m good at parties, at planning them, at figuring out what the client wants and needs. It meant that I didn’t look back on those years.”

Eve turned another angle. “Your fiancé has political ambitions, and his mother may run for president—that’s the rumor.”