That was the moment I stopped planning a birthday party.
I started planning an accounting lesson.
PART 4
That afternoon, I drove to Rosalind’s house in San Diego.
She lived in a large Spanish-style home with cream stucco and a tiled roof.
Brandon’s parents had lived there for nearly twenty years.
Rosalind liked appearances.
Everything had to look expensive.
Even when it was not.
Her living room had white furniture nobody was allowed to sit on casually.
Her guest towels were decorative.
Her dining room was used only when important people came over.
And nearly everyone Rosalind wanted to impress was somehow important.
She opened the door wearing silk pajamas and gold earrings.
“You’re late.”
I checked the time.
I was three minutes early.
“I said two.”
“It’s one fifty-seven.”
She ignored that.
Heather was in the living room on a video call.
She held up two dresses.
“Mom, lavender or champagne?”
“Lavender.”
“Champagne washes you out.”
Heather nodded.
Then she noticed me.
“Oh.”
“Hi.”
She looked at my plain black trousers.
Then at my blouse.
“Are you wearing that Saturday?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Rosalind walked toward the kitchen.
“There will be thirty people.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t want buffet food sitting in aluminum trays.”
“Okay.”
“The district attorney’s wife notices everything.”
I did not know why the district attorney’s wife was supposed to care about meat presentation.
But I nodded.
Rosalind continued.
“The Duponts are coming.”
“I saw that.”
“Did Brandon explain who they are?”
“No.”
“Old family friends.”
“Very established.”
“Very tasteful.”
She looked me over.
“Dress properly.”
“They’re going to think Brandon doesn’t even give you enough money to buy clothes.”
Heather laughed softly from the couch.
I looked at Rosalind.
Then I smiled.
“Wouldn’t want that.”
She missed the meaning completely.
Before I left, she handed me another sheet.
This one contained a seating arrangement.
Some names had stars beside them.
Others had circles.
I asked.
