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The beauty of the sunlight filtering through the oaks lining Leslie’s street offered a moment of distraction as she drove through her upper-middle-class neighborhood. Nestled in a quiet part of St. Benedict known as The Elms, her house wasn’t far from the entrance to the lands owned by the Devereaux Estate.
Leslie pulled up to the three-car garage. She cringed when she looked at the clock on the dash.
Late again.
She grabbed her book bag and headed toward the back door, hoping her mom wouldn’t be downstairs.
“You were supposed to be home ten minutes ago, Leslie Elise,” Shelley shouted from the kitchen.
Leslie sighed and shut the garage door. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Her mom rounded the corner, her honey-blonde hair back in a clasp.
No doubt about it. Shelley Moore could intimidate Satan himself if she wanted to.
Her mother’s blue eyes sparkled with irritation. “You were at that boy’s again, weren’t you?”
Leslie scowled. “His name is Derek, Mom. Not that boy. I hate when you call him that.”
“And I hate when he makes you late for dinner.” Shelley pointed a spatula at her daughter, her lips nothing but a thin, angry line.
Leslie followed her mother into the kitchen. She crossed the threshold, her tennis shoes squeaking on the brick floor. She hiked her bag onto the counter with a heavy thump.
“I was only ten minutes late. It’s not a big deal.”
“We have rules for a reason.” Her mother wielded the spatula again, pointing it at Leslie like a sword. “And you know better. Books on the floor, not the counter.”
Leslie deposited her bag next to the breakfast bar. “Where’s Dawn?”
“Not home from cheerleading practice yet.” Shelley carried a bowl of vegetables to the table in the open dining room.
Leslie gritted her teeth. “Is Beau bringing her home?”
“Of course. You know he always brings her home after practice.”
Great. The princess gets to be driven home by her asshole boyfriend and I get crap for spending ten extra minutes with mine.
A few choice curse words slipped from Leslie’s lips.
“What was that, young lady?”
“Nothing. Dad home yet?”
Shelley pointed her spatula to the family room next to the kitchen. “In his office. Go tell him it’s time for dinner.”
Leslie hurried through the family room toward her father’s office. She knocked and gingerly pushed the door open.
Soft overhead lights stretched across a paper-strewn desk. His head bowed in concentration, John Moore’s slight frown told her he wasn’t happy with what he read. A stack of manila folders lay neatly on the corner of his mahogany desk, each representing a case.
Leslie leaned against the doorframe and smiled. The only attorney in St. Benedict, she couldn’t remember a time when he had not been working on a case.
“Hey, Dad.”
John glanced up from the file, his glasses slightly askew.
“What are you working on?”
He ran his hand through his thinning hair and leaned back, resting his head against the leather seat. “I’m finishing up one of the contracts for the brewery.”
Lately, he’d been working a lot for Gage Devereaux’s company. Benedict Brewery was on the verge of breaking nationally, which meant a lot of late nights for her dad.
“How was school? Did you have a good day, Leelee?”
She smiled at the nickname. All her life she’d been Leelee to him, never Leslie. “School was good.” She slouched her shoulders. “Well, not good. Beau hit Derek.”
John set his glasses on his desk. “Why? Is he okay?”
“He claims it was an accident, but Derek’s got a bruise on his cheek.” She rested her hip on the corner of the desk. “Daddy, can you sue Beau or something on Derek’s behalf? Emotional cruelty or perhaps assault?”
John folded his hands on his desk, a deep crease spreading across his brow. “You know the law. Derek has to file charges, or at least seek compensation. Were any charges filed?”
She shook her head. “No. Ms. Greenbriar took Beau to the office, but I doubt she will do anything to him.”
He sighed. “And I doubt Carol Foster would pursue any legal fight with the Devereaux family.”
Leslie perked up, intrigued. “Why? Because she dated Beau’s father in high school?”
John narrowed his gaze, appearing somewhat menacing. “Where did you hear that?”
“Mrs. Foster told me a little about it. I got the impression Mr. Devereaux meant something to her.”
John picked up his glasses, redirecting his focus to his paperwork. “They were very close in high school. I remember seeing them holding hands everywhere they went, but everyone knew the Devereauxs never liked Carol.”
She scooted up on his desk, hoping to distract him. “Why not?”
John hesitated, staring into his daughter’s eyes. “Her father was the brewery foreman at the time, and they were uncomfortable with their son dating the daughter of an employee. I’m sure they discouraged the relationship.”
A whole new perspective on the Devereaux family popped into Leslie’s head. She’d always thought of them as stuck up and pretentious, sort of like her mother, but had never considered them cruel.
Concern for Dawn weighed on her. “Do you think they will do that with Dawn? I mean, you work for the brewery like Mrs. Foster’s father.”
He chuckled, and his brown eyes lit up. “No, sweetie. Things are different now.”
“Are they? Mom wants me to stay away from Derek because she’s a snob and doesn’t think he’s good enough for me.”
“I heard that.” Shelley barged into the room. “And just because I don’t like your boyfriend, young lady, does not make me a snob.”
Leslie stuck out her chin. “Then what other justification do you have for the demeaning remarks directed at my boyfriend, Mother?”
Shelley angrily squinted at her husband. “You see what your influence has done? Now she’s even talking like a lawyer.”
John held up his hands. “Don’t drag me in the middle of this. It’s your argument, not mine.”
Shelley folded her arms, smirking exactly like Dawn. “After raising twin girls, I think I’m better at winning arguments than you’ll ever be.”
John scanned the paperwork on his desk. “I have no doubts about that.”
“Ah, hello!” Leslie stood and waved her hand, angrily redirecting her parents’ focus to her. “I still have a question awaiting an answer.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Shelley turned for the office door. “Dinner is ready,” she announced before heading out of the room.
“Why does she always do that?” Frustrated, Leslie folded her arms and plopped down on the corner of his desk. “I ask a question, and she totally ignores me. But Little Miss Perfect can ask a question about the weather in Cleveland and Mom will give her a three-page report, complete with pie charts and a website.”
“Leelee.” His voice softened as he rose from his chair. “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating?”
“No, I’m not. She hates Derek just because he’s not all rich and popular like Beau. But she won’t even get to know him. She never lets him come over, or even bothers to talk to his mom. And whenever I want to go out with him on a date, I have to give her an itinerary, ten personal contacts, and a freakin’ urine sample.”
John chuckled. “Your mother has her faults, but she isn’t that bad.”
“Then why does Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes get to go everywhere with Beau while I get to face an interrogation just to go out for pizza with Derek?”
He stood from his chair. “Because your mother knows Beau. Knows his family, and she feels comfortable with him.” He held up his hands before she could shout a reply. “He’s known as an upstanding kid.”
Her hopes of ever getting her mother’s approval for Derek sank like a stone in a shallow pond. “And what about Derek? What do I do to make her see what a good guy he is?”
“I’m sure she will come around. You know how resistant she is to change, just like your sister.” He patted her shoulder. “Give her some time.”
Leslie pouted, doubting her mother would warm up to Derek. “Didn’t you ever want to spend time with your girlfriend in high school? I’m not talking about having sex, Dad, just hanging out.”
John rubbed his forehead. “Leelee, please. You’re going to give me a heart attack. The idea of either you or your sister—”
“Hey, Daddy.” Dawn bounded into the room. “I can’t wait to tell you what happened to me at school today.”
“Aaaaand I’m outta here.” Leslie stood and headed for the door.
Dawn frowned at her sister. “What’s up your butt?”
Leslie spun around. They looked so alike yet were so different on the inside. While they had been inseparable when they were little, somewhere along the way they had grown apart. Now she didn’t even know Dawn anymore. Beau had driven a wedge between them as wide as the Grand Canyon. Why bother telling her what Beau had done? She wouldn’t believe her.
“Nothing’s up my butt.”
Dawn rocked her hip to the side, frowning just like their mother. “Is this about Beau and Derek going at it today? Just so you know, my boyfriend told me what happened. You were flirting with him in the hall. Derek got jealous and then accidentally walked into Beau’s elbow.”
Leslie’s fury heated her cheeks. “You little toad! Why in the hell would I want a scumbag like Beau when I have Derek?”
“Girls,” John edged in.
“You’re kidding, right? Beau is so much more than the loser you’re dating.”
John’s voice rose higher. “Girls!”
“Derek’s not a loser!” Leslie got right in Dawn’s face. “He’s got a better GPA than your Neanderthal and will make something of himself one day.”
“What’s going on in here?” Shelley burst through the door.
Dawn pointed at Leslie. “She called my boyfriend a Neander ... something.”
Leslie crossed her arms. “Neanderthal, you idiot.”
Shelley rushed between the two girls. “Enough. There will be no name calling in this house. Between each other or of Beau Devereaux.”
Leslie scoffed. “And what about Derek? I can’t call Beau names, but she can make fun of my boyfriend? That’s not fair.”
“She has a point, hon.” John eyed his wife.
“You’re not helping,” Shelley grumbled, and then shifted her focus to Leslie. “I think you could learn from your sister’s example. Dawn has a future with Beau. What do you have with that ... that boy?”
Gutted, Leslie trudged toward the door. Her mother just didn’t get it. She stopped halfway across the hardwood floor and glanced back at her mother.
“You’re unbelievable.”
She sniffled as she crossed the room.
Would it even matter to her mom if she knew all the horrid things Beau had said to her? The torment she’d suffered for months? If she said anything, her mother would twist it around and she would end up shouldering the blame. Leslie couldn’t stomach that. So, she would keep her mouth shut, no matter how much it ate at her.
“What about dinner?” Shelley’s voice echoed behind Leslie.
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
She ran up the steps, anxious for the sanctuary of her bedroom.
