Was Jolene Kirkland this narcissistic and annoying the first time I met her? If so, I didn’t remember it. She showed up two hours late to the pre-wedding brunch, and from the moment she sat down, she was loud and dismissive of everyone at the table.

“Thomas!” she said between deep swallows of the mimosa Jared had made for her. “I saw your article in The Architectural Digest. That little firm you started after quitting your job at Edgewater Associates has worked out for you, huh? Looks like all of that idealism you’ve been married to since college is beginning to pay off.”

I clenched my teeth at the purposeful mispronunciation of my name and said, “Yes, it is,” because that was the only thing I could say in response to that thinly-veiled insult. “I wasn’t aware that you knew anything about my firm or me for that matter.”

“Of course, I do! Shannon talked about you all the time. Whenever you would come up in conversation he’d always say, ‘that boy would go a lot further if he’d abandon all that that bright-eyed optimism’.”

Hm. My grandmother always said that we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but I think she would make an exception in this case because Shannon MacFarland was an asshole in life and apparently in death as well. Even worse, he was a specific kind of asshole, who ran for office campaigning on diverse issues, but still played into respectability politics in his everyday life. He’d often chided me about my ideas on slowing the gentrification of blighted areas, called them idealistic pipe dreams. I couldn’t help feeling smug about turning those idealistic pipe dreams into some of my favorite projects as a developer and architect for my own firm.

“Well, congratulations, Thomas. There’s something to be said ‘bout sticking to your core beliefs and shaping your life and work around them. That’s no easy feat for a man in this day and age. I applaud you for that.”

“Thanks… I guess,” I murmured. I glanced at the doorway Darcy had disappeared through. She’d been gone for a while now.

“Don’t worry about her,” Jolene said as if he’d read my mind. “You know she’s always tended toward the dramatic.”

I frowned and looked across the table to gauge Jared’s reaction. He rolled his eyes, as if to agree that her statement wasn’t remotely true, but didn’t defend his mother either.

Not cool.

Pushing my chair back, I stood slowly and smoothed my hand down the front of my shirt. “I’ve never known Darcy to be the dramatic type, but even still, I feel it’s within my duties as Concierge to the Mother of the Groom to see about my charge,” I said, giving a dramatic bow before leaving the table.