“ALEXANDRIA? ALEXANDRIA?” MY name echoed through my tired mind, punctuated by raps upon my bedroom door.

I pulled myself from my bed, wrapped my robe around me, and made my way to the door. “Hello.” My voice sounded sleepy even to my own ears.

“I’m coming in.”

“Suzanna?” I asked, though I knew it was her voice on the other side of the locked door.

Last night, after my call to Deloris, Bryce insisted on returning me to my room, only after I relinquished my key. I tried to explain that I wouldn’t leave; I’d only wanted to make a call. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Thankfully, he had taken no for everything else.

Each time we were together, it was as if there was a power struggle going on within him: his desire to please Alton versus being the Bryce of my childhood. Since it was feasible that Alton would eventually learn I’d made the call to Deloris from his phone, Bryce could counter, saying he’d orchestrated my dialogue as well as confiscated my means for further escape. Giving him the key was a no brainer. When I’d explained that it was one I’d had hidden in my room for years, he didn’t seem to question. I didn’t mention there were numerous others waiting to take its place.

I turned back to the clock. It was nearly ten in the morning.

A new panic washed through me. Had Alton left for Montague Corporation? Had I lost my chance to contact Columbia?

I took a step back as the tumblers clicked and Suzanna unlocked the door. As the door opened, she instructed the same staff girl from last night to enter, pushing what I assumed to be my breakfast, or at least, a cart with an assortment of covered plates, a carafe, cups, and glasses.

Pulling my robe closed, I watched as Suzanna directed the girl where to place everything and then instructed her to leave. Once we were alone, Bryce’s mother turned toward me, her expression filled with artificial compassion.

“Alexandria, how are you?” Each word dripped with her saccharine-coated Southern drawl.

That was her lead in?

I forced my bitchiest smile. “I’m peachy. Thank you so much for asking. After all, you just unlocked my door to enter. Doesn’t that sound like fun to you?”

“Really…” She sat opposite the tray at a small table in my room and lifted the silver dome. “…dear, you should eat. I heard you had an eventful night.”

I lifted my brows. “It’s nice that Bryce discusses things with his mother. I’d like to do the same.”

“Look, the cook made you pancakes. You’ve always loved pancakes.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Not since I was seven.” I sat and reached for the carafe of coffee. Though there were two cups; I only poured mine. By the time I stirred in the cream, Suzanna huffed and poured her own cup.

Bitch, I’m not your maid. I didn’t say that. Instead, I offered the small pitcher. “Cream?”

Reaching for the pitcher, Suzanna said, “Darling, you really do have the ability to make this better. It’s up to you.”

“If it’s up to me, I want to see my mother and go back to New York.” It wasn’t what Jane had told me to say, but it was the truth.

“That’s not what I mean. I mean, you and me, we should be friends. Your father has requested that I plan your wedding for the Saturday before Christmas.” Her eyes lit up. “That’s Christmas Eve. Can you imagine how beautiful it will be? Now, think about it. We don’t have much time. Who do you want to stand up with you? Every girl imagines her dream wedding. Tell me about yours.”

After taking a sip of her coffee, she nodded knowingly. “Just because this is rushed, doesn’t mean we have to skimp. Your father wouldn’t hear of that. He wants the biggest, grandest wedding Savannah has seen in years… decades even. This is monumental—the Carmichaels, Fitzgeralds, and Montagues, all becoming one.”

I grimaced over the rim of my cup as she enthusiastically spoke. I had visions of the newscasters who were able to describe the destruction of a mass disaster with a smile on their faces.

Five thousand dead as a tsunami devastates… on a lighter note, the Miss America pageant will go on as planned.

“…really can be an epic event. I’ve started the guest list—”

“Excuse me,” I interrupted, reining in my sarcasm. “There’s no Fitzgerald in that equation.” I stood ready to say that I’d rather marry a Fitzgerald than a Carmichael, when an idea hit me. “Patrick.”

Suzanna stared. “What?”

“I want Patrick Richardson to stand with me.”

“Well, of course, he could be a groomsman.”

“I didn’t say that,” I corrected. “I want him to stand with me.” I shrugged. “I would probably have chosen Chelsea, but you can see where that may be a bit uncomfortable. I’m no longer close to any of my classmates from the academy and those at Stanford didn’t know about… well, this.” I motioned around the room. “I want Patrick.”

“Dear, we’d need to discuss that with your father. I know he isn’t pleased with the life choices Patrick has made.”

Infidelity or being gay? I’d go with Infidelity, since homosexuality wasn’t actually a choice. Then again, Infidelity was a secret, so apparently it was Patrick’s sexuality that Alton didn’t approve of.

I tilted my head. “I don’t want to know how you know what Alton thinks, but if you call him my father one more time, I’ll spill my coffee all over your lovely cream dress.”

“Alexandria! I’m trying to help you.”

I slammed my nearly empty cup onto the table. “Let’s get something straight. I don’t want to marry your son. I have never wanted to marry your son. I won’t marry your son, but I will play this damn game to get to my mother. Now how about you stop pretending to be my best friend and you start being Momma’s?”

She stood. “I-I’m simply aghast.”

As she fluttered around my room, with her hand near her throat, I sat back in my chair and laughed. It started as a simple giggle, but as the seconds passed the rumble grew to a resounding full-body laugh.

Finally, she cleared her throat. “You don’t seem to understand. This wedding is happening. Don’t you want a choice in choosing your wedding dress?”

“You’re right, I don’t understand. How about instead of giving me a choice in dresses, I get a choice in grooms?”

She squared her shoulders. “Alexandria, I came here this morning to help you.”

Standing to meet her, I asked, “Why don’t you tell me about my mother? Better yet, since you have the key to my freedom, why don’t you take me to my mother? Let me see her condition for myself.”

Her tongue darted to her lips and she nodded. “I-I think we should concentrate on where we can do the most good, where we can make the most progress. As it is, we have less than two months before you and Bryce say your vows. There are showers that need to be planned, registries that need to be completed, and a honeymoon planned. You’ll be pleased to know I’ve secured the Presbyterian Church…”

I narrowed my gaze. “Are you serious?” The Presbyterian Church was one of the oldest, most historic churches in Savannah. It didn’t seem possible that she could reserve that on such short notice, especially on Christmas Eve. The donation must have been enough to cover my law school for the full three years, including my housing. Well, at least now I knew where my trust fund went.

Setting her coffee cup on the table, Suzanna brushed the imaginary lint from the skirt of her dress. “Alexandria, your father…” She emphasized the words, daring me to reach for my coffee. “…expects you in his office at noon. The photographer was due here at two for your engagement pictures, but it seems as though that needs to be postponed.” She took a step closer and lifted a brow. “Perhaps you and Bryce could manage to keep marks limited to places covered by clothing, at least for the near future.”

“I was fucking fighting him—”

Her palm neared my cheek, but just as quickly I leaned away, saving myself from another slap and seized her wrist. Clenching my teeth, I squeezed. “Don’t think that you ever can strike me.”

She pulled her wrist away, rubbing the area I’d just held. “You may have been off gallivanting around the world and your mother may have coddled you, but, Miss Collins, you’re back in Savannah and proper ladies don’t say fuck. From this time forward, that word will be stricken from your vocabulary either willingly or by force. The choice is yours.”

“Do you even give a fuck about my mother?” I opened my eyes in question as well as disobedience.

“Laide is my best friend. Of course I care. Don’t you understand, Alexandria? I’m here with you, putting up with your insolent behavior for her. Do you think Alton would do this? The answer is no. He would not and will not put up with your disrespectful conduct. I’m here to help you and help Laide. I guess the question is… Do you give a fuck what happens to her?”

It was Alton’s question, restated.

Suzanna turned on her heels and walked toward the door. With her hand on the crystal handle, she added, “I’ll leave your door unlocked. Shower, dress, and be in your father’s office before noon. If your answer to my last question is yes, then don’t be a second late.”

I wanted her gone. I also didn’t want to obey anything she, Bryce, or Alton said, but I was trapped. “Suzanna?”

“Yes?”

“He said I could call Columbia. Is he here? I could go down and call my faculty advisor now. I’ve already missed a class yesterday afternoon and another this morning.”

She eyed me up and down. “A proper lady doesn’t walk around Montague Manor in a bathrobe.”

After twisting the knob, she opened the door and just as quickly disappeared as the door closed.

 

 

I TURNED THE key from my side of my door and returned it to my jewelry box. I couldn’t make myself go into the bathroom and shower knowing the door could be opened. I had visions of emerging from the bathroom to someone—anyone—in my room. I doubted it would be Alton, but then again, anything was possible. In my opinion, Bryce and Suzanna were equally unacceptable visitors.

Before my shower, I’d moved the cart with my breakfast back into the hallway. The key was a risk, a way to alert others that I had another. I’d hoped that placing the cart in the hallway would stop the young girl from trying to enter my room.

As I looked for clothes, I realized that it didn’t matter that the things I’d packed in New York were with Deloris and Nox. My closet was full. There were both clothes that I’d left in Savannah as well as new ones. Even the bathroom cabinets were filled with my choice of cosmetics. I remembered that Jane had unpacked for me during my last visit, but with each new discovery, I feared there was another explanation, someone else who helped to plan for my return.

No one else would have known my preferences so exactly except the person who’d shared my life and my apartment for the last four years. Everything was correct, all the way down to the brand names and colors of eye shadow. I didn’t want to think that Chelsea purposely sent me the text message to lure me back to Savannah. I rationalized that even if she had, given my mother’s condition, I was glad I was back.

Besides, if Chelsea hadn’t contacted me, would anyone have even told me about my momma?

As I prepared for my command performance in Alton’s office, it occurred to me that although my closet and cosmetics were satisfactory, I didn’t have everything that I needed. I needed my backpack, school supplies, and birth control medication.

The absence of my medicine gave me another idea. Perhaps it was as farfetched as having Patrick in my wedding—that would never happen—but it was worth a try. I needed my birth control medicine. If Alton wouldn’t let me have my things from New York, there was only one alternative: I would need to see Dr. Beck—alone.

Taking one last look in the mirror, I shrugged. The simple dress and flat shoes were a compromise. I’d have preferred jeans and a light sweater, but I was playing his game. If I were sequestered to the manor, my attire wouldn’t matter. My goal was to get to Magnolia Woods. For that, I needed to look my part.

With a deep breath, I made my way toward Alton’s office. It was the same path I’d taken during the middle of the night, minus the check of neighboring rooms. Though the passages were brighter during the day, the Montague Manor shadows never fully evaporated. They lurked within the dim and less-traveled passageways.

I fought to breathe as blood drained from my cheeks. It was 11:50 as I lifted my hand to knock on the office door. I had always despised this room, and here I was, entering it for the third time in the last twenty-four hours.

I may have thought it before, but the dog-and-pony show was now in full swing.