Free Edgewater by Courtney Sheinmel Page B

wouldn’t even be able to do my toes, too.”
    I had a flash of a mean thought in my head:
Oh, the hardship of Lennox Sackler-Kandell, having to paint her own toenails.
    But then I felt bad for being begrudging. Hardship is all relative. “That’s annoying,” I said.
    â€œYeah. My next manicure better be on the house,” she said. “But the good news is, I ran into you. I just tried calling to see if you wanted to have brunch. I’ve been calling you for days, as a matter of fact.”
    â€œSorry about that. Cell-phone issues.”
    â€œSo, brunch?”
    I shook my head. “I don’t have any money on me.”
    â€œNo prob,” she said. “I do. I can add it to your tab.”
    I didn’t want to owe Lennox any more than I already did. Besides, I was too sweaty for the club and too mortified to appear at any of a half dozen places in town where Susannah and Brian previously might have left their waiter in the lurch when the check came. “I’m not that hungry, actually,” I said as my stomach turned over in hunger. I wondered what treats Lennox had in her purse right then. A candy bar? A power bar? “But I will take a lift.”
    â€œHop in.”
    I walked around to the other side and pulled open the passenger door.
    â€œWhere to?” Lennox asked.
    â€œLet’s just drive around for a bit, if you don’t mind. I’m not ready to go home yet.”
    â€œYour wish is my command.”
    â€œDid you tell the moms about my plane ticket?” I asked as Lennox pulled out onto Break Run.
    â€œYeah,” she said. “They’ll get the credit card statement, and I didn’t want them to open the envelope and just find out like that. But don’t worry—they were completely cool about it. They know there’s a cash-flow issue out of your control and you’re in a tough spot sometimes, and obviously they wouldn’t want you stranded in North Carolina until the funds cleared up. You’re practically another daughter to them.”
    â€œThanks, sis,” I said.
    â€œBesides, they know you’re good for the money.”
    Ah, there was the rub—the difference between
practically
being another daughter and
actually
being one. An actual Sackler-Kandell daughter would get to take a lot for granted, like having the money to get home from wherever it was she’d gone, and like not opening mail to find out her tuition hadn’t been paid. Like knowing she was, in fact, good for the money.
    â€œYou’re not mad, are you?” Lennox asked.
    â€œNo, no, of course not. I knew you had to tell them. I just wondered if you had yet, that’s all.”
    â€œBut there’s something you’re not saying,” she said. “I don’t mean to go all therapist on you, but we never did have that ice cream chat.”
    I turned away again, took a deep breath, and exhaled out the window into the wind.
    â€œI don’t think it’s healthy to keep too much inside for too long,” she said. She looked away from the road for an instant and put her free hand on my knee. “I’m serious about this. You can tell me anything.”
    â€œI know I can,” I said. “I’m just still processing everything.”
    â€œProcess with me,” Lennox said. “I’m a journalist, you know.”
    â€œWhat does that have to do with it?”
    â€œI’m good at information intake, that’s all.”
    â€œSoon,” I told her. “I promise.”
    â€œAll right,” Lennox said. “I’ll take a hint, even though I don’t want to. I have something really exciting to tell you anyway.”
    â€œOh, yeah?”
    â€œThe Copelands are back, and there’s a party at the Compound tonight. I got a Google Alert about it.”
    â€œYou have a Google Alert for a Copeland party?”
    â€œFor anything Copeland,” she told me. “So I can be